#zntweek

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Un. Nine moves out temporarily because of an opportunity in the city and Five moves in. It’s been a long time since either Nine or Twelve have seen her; she was in America for a long time for work, and now she was returning back to Japan and needed a place to stay before she found her own place. Considering that they had an unused guest room, their own apartment seemed the easiest solution, and well…they’d get used to her presence eventually.

The Five that Twelve remembers from their childhood was sarcastic and haughty with an insatiable rivalry against Nine. She spoke in purple crystals and had a glare that even the adults didn’t dare cross.

When he opens the door on the day she’s meant to move in, Twelve finds that she might very well be the same, if not ten times more difficult to handle—and without Nine here to temper her, he’s not entirely sure the apartment will be the same when Nine returns.

Deux. Five is silent for a week. Not because she feels awkward (like Twelve does), but because she has nothing of importance to say to him. He’s not sure if he should feel grateful or not—if Nine was here he knows that she would immediately challenge him to a game of chess to see how much he’s improved.

So they keep to themselves and do their work—oftentimes, it’s really like living in the apartment alone, with the exception of seeing someone else around.

It changes when Twelve topples a stack of games when he goes into the closet searching for an extension cord—chess and shogi pieces clatter all over the floor, go stones are sent rolling and hanafuda cards flutter to the ground.

Five comes out of her room to see what the noise is, irritation written all over her face, but her eyes glimmer when she sees what is on the floor.

Twelve goes to apologize but she grins, bared teeth promising ruin, and her first words to him are “let’s play.”

Trois. He loses, over and over and over, but Five isn’t entirely perturbed by it; she keeps challenging him, and because he can’t help but want to win at least once, he accepts each time.

“I win,” she says calmly, leaning back in her seat and staring at him when she reaches for her glass of water.

“Of course,” he replies, a little more disgustedly this time as he studies the board to try and figure out what he should have done better, “Why do you always keep asking me to play when we both know I’m going to lose?”

 “…When we were children,” she begins slowly, “Nine had to leave our game unfinished, and I was furious—but then you took over his game, and you beat me. I wanted to know how you would fare alone.”

She has a good memory, Twelve thinks, because he doesn’t remember such a time—but her words sounds a little bit like a challenge, just a little bit like she wants to consider him a rival too, and so he resets the chess board and asks her for another round.

Quatre. Five is bossy, now that they’ve gotten used to each other a little more. She demands things to be put exactly where they were before, is extremely particular about eating at routine times, and what they eat. Twelve eats whatever, Five eats healthy, and when he asks if that’s how she keeps her figure, she glares at him for some reason.

They eventually fall into the routine of eating together, since it’s more economical to make once batch of something than two things that require different ingredients. Five’s food is mainly full of green things with lightly seasoned meats, while Twelve’s food is the exact opposite, but they make it work.

Eventually they learn how to compromise so Five isn’t gagging on the amount of spices he puts in his food, and Twelve isn’t complaining about the blandness of hers.

Cinq.  “Lisa called,” Five says, and Twelve splutters.

“You picked up my phone?!”

“No,” she replies, flipping the channel on the TV, “It was ringing when you were in the shower, and you have caller ID.”

Twelve breathes a small sigh of relief that she doesn’t miss, and her lips stretch into a mischievous grin.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” he glares, and she laughs.

She really doesn’t say a word, just turns back to her show with a maddeningly superior air.

Six. When Five gets particularly stressed out because of work, Twelve has learned that he needs to stay out of her way. She’s a perfectionist and turns real nasty when something isn’t going right; she takes his supplies and uses them all up or even breaks his pens in her anger. He’d argued with her when she was in one of her moods once, and though he was one of the very few that could resist her cold glares, he could tell that she was this close to raking her violet nails down his face if he pushed any further, and so he let it go.

So he’s learned that as long as they had an endless supply of coffee and the macarons from that specialty store down the street she gets insane discounts from, Five will keep her raging at a minimum. And Twelve lets her take his office supplies, because whenever she’s done with her deadline, he’ll find replacements in all his preferred brands to make up for what she’s depleted. Surprisingly too, she knows what supplies are his favorites, and leaves those untouched—and in the end, they’re both learning, he supposes.

Sept. She goes into Nine’s room without permission to find a stapler and doesn’t find one, but notices something that is on his table.

“Nine still has the wristband from when we were children,” she says when she exits, before Twelve can tell her not to do that again—Nine is very particular about his things, but he realizes that considering Five is too, there’s probably not a trace that she was in there.

“Well, he doesn’t wear it that often because it’s not a professional accessory to wear to work,” he counters, but Five continues as if he hadn’t spoken.

“Do you still have that belt?”

He debates lying, wondering if Five thinks them childish and is about to say something snarky about it—but he nods in the end; it’s in his closet, and he is still able to wear it.

Five smiles, though she turns it more into a smirk; Twelve opens his mouth to say something sarcastic, but she holds up her hand so that he can see the familiar ring from their childhood on her pinky finger—and well, it looks like some things never change.

Huit.  Five shuts herself up in her room for two days, and when she finally sticks her head out, she looks terrible. Usually the girl is all impeccable makeup and dressed to kill, but now she looks as if she’s been sick—though she still looks dressed like she’s ready for a red-carpet ceremony.

“Twelve,” she says, her voice lacking its usual bite, “Take this, and go get me some feminine products.”

He doesn’t even have time to say what before she retreats back inside and shuts her door.

Twelve isn’t embarrassed, but he sure as heck doesn’t know what to get; Five didn’t respond when he knocked on her door again, and so he makes the trip and returns with the things with wings (because wings are good, right?) and waits for the situation to pass.

When she recovers, she says nothing, but he finds a carton of his favorite ice cream in the freezer later.

Neuf. “I’m going on a date,” Twelve says nervously, and Five lowers the book that she’s reading and raises an eyebrow.

He doesn’t say anything else, but she scrutinizes him for a while before she gets up from the couch and stalks into his room. He doesn’t even protest, and follows her as she looks at all the clothes that are spread on his bed.

“Wear this,” she says, holding up an orange shirt and a pair of cargo shorts, “Those shorts look like tacky.”

Twelve changes, and does feel a little more confident in the clothes that Five has picked out; she’s always had an eye for these kinds of things, and he’s mildly relieved that she decided to help him in the first place.

“Don’t stay out and play all night,” she coos from the doorway as he’s about to leave, and he sticks his tongue out at her before shutting the door behind him.

Dix. “Say,” Twelve begins, as he moves his chess piece, “Why were you always so obsessed with Nine, anyway?”

She wrinkles her nose at his choice of words, but says, “Because we were the same, and he was interesting.”

“How so?”

“Let’s put it this way, we are very heavily mind people while you’re very heavily a heart person; at that place, Nine was the only one who could keep up with me.”

“Then how are you not getting irritated I’m your opponent?”

She stares at him and looks faintly amused when she says, “Mind and mind go up against each other, while heart and mind go hand in hand.”

Onze. Twelve and Nine still text each other fairly frequently to let the other know of their respective situations—friendship isn’t determined by distance, after all. When Twelve scrolls back to his older messages, which were more frequent back when Five was more antisocial, he notices that his tone is a little more critical, and he sounds a bit at a loss of how to treat her. It’s become a lot easier living with her these past months, he realizes, and he thinks about what she said about heart and mind going hand in hand. Though her personality is more fiery and volatile than Nine’s, they balance each other in a similar way.

You’ve become friends, huh? Nine sends, and Twelve reads it over a few times before he smiles.

Yeah, I guess we have, He replies.

Douze. “Nine’s coming back in a month,” he says while he’s doing the dishes, and Five just eats another spoonful of yogurt without any of the perked up reactions Twelve thought she might have.

“I’ve been looking forward to playing a chess game with him,” she hums as she flips the page to the magazine she’s reading.

“Are you ever bitter about losing?” Twelve asks, the thought suddenly coming to mind as he dries a plate; Twelve has won a handful of games against her, and Five has neither been superior about her wins or angry about her losses, treating either with an interesting amount of nonchalance.

“It’s not so much about winning or losing,” Five says, scraping the bottom of the container for the bits of fruit, “It’s about the strategy, the thought and skill being used when one is playing the game.” She gets up to dispose of her empty container and hand him the spoon to wash, continuing to say, “It’s why playing against you is just as interesting, if in a different way than it is while playing Nine.”

Twelve takes her spoon with a raised eyebrow and feels just a little bit flattered.

Treize. He remembers that it’s her birthday in two days, and is at a loss about what to get her—because he should get her something, they’re friendly enough for that kind of thing, right?—and pores over options for a few hours. He shouldn’t buy clothes, she has a far better eye, jewelry is out for the same reason—and in the end gives up and decides to go with something simple: a set of nail polish that is arranged from darkest to lightest in shades of purple, and presents it to her without fanfare.

“What’s this?” she says, turning the boxed set over in her hands, scrutinizing it like it’s a prank.

“It’s for your birthday,” he says, surprised, “Did I remember wrong?”

Five looks at him, startled, and is silent for a moment, her expression thoughtful as if she’s trying to think back so that she can confirm or deny his words.

He’s not wrong, in the end, though it takes her a while to remember, and Twelve wonders about what kind of life she was living before if she so nearly forgot her own birthday.

Quatorze. Nine comes home and things feel complete.

Five still lives up to her reputation of being competitive with Nine, but her challenges seem less aggressive than they did in childhood, less menacing. She’s also able to drag Nine away from his work to eat (or shower), something that Twelve is thankful for her doing.

She and Nine bicker about the correct placements of things and Nine gets flustered when Five walks around hardly dressed—something that Twelve has accepted and used to over the months. He laughs at his best friend’s expressions and watches as he argues with the girl.

Nine loses the battle, and slowly learns that Five is good at winning more than just board games.

Quinze. “You’ve gotten better,” Nine says, as he and Twelve play a round of chess while the lady of the house is out running some errands.

“Well, you don’t play with Five and not,” Twelve replies, furrowing his eyebrows as he contemplates his next move.

“I was afraid I’d come back to the apartment and everything would be destroyed,” Nine says vaguely, “Five can be difficult to handle.”

“I was too,” Twelve admits, and moves his piece. “But she doesn’t bite…much…as long as you know how to read her moods.”

“She needs more friends,” Nine says, “And you’re good at that kind of thing.”

Twelve raises an eyebrow, but Nine just shrugs and smiles.

Seize. Work gets busy, and though they live in the same apartment, none of them really have time to speak to each other for about two weeks as they deal with respective problems.

When things calm down, they all decide to go out together for the first time in a while, but they can’t figure out what to do, and end up staying home. They eat the little cartons of ice cream in the freezer—strawberry for Five, coffee for Nine, and rocky road for Twelve—and watch bad reality TV on the couch. They fall asleep on the couch and wake up tangled together, like kittens in a basket.

Nine is embarrassed, Five is indifferent, and Twelve is still asleep.

The remarkable thing is how comfortable they’ve all become with each other.

Dix-Sept. A year and a number of months pass before Twelve realizes that Five was never originally supposed to stay permanently; the setup was technically only until she got her own place.

He asks the girl in question about it hesitantly one day, because the idea of Five leaving them is—odd, too odd to think about, when she’s become one third of their balanced dynamic.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks, eyebrow raised—though there’s also something just a little bit defensive in her eyes, and he wonders if she might actually feel a bit hurt.

“No,” Twelve says, “That’s why I’m asking.”

“I’m not,” she confirms, turning back to her work, “I’ve gotten too used to being here.”