If I were to describe the feeling in my chest when I stood in front of Itra’s door, I wouldn’t be able to capture its whole essence. My senses were heightened to a point where I could feel my sweat on my skin.

As I stared at the closed door, I slowly lifted my hand up to ring the doorbell. Of course, my mind decided that would be the perfect time to start stressing out. Did I smell all right? Maybe these clothes weren’t so great after all? What if I sound awkward in there? And my head went on and on with this, before the door opened.

I could have sworn that I didn’t ring the doorbell, but the sight of the wooden door gave way to the image of Itra holding the door ajar. She recoiled at the unexpected sight of me, and a few eyes were on her. Judging by the slight silence, I assumed that she just left a conversation.

“Uh, hi,” I waved with my hand that had originally been aiming at the doorbell, “nice to see you.”

“Excuse me, but,” she looked me over, “who are you?”

“H-huh?” I tilted my head, “It’s me, Illate.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know you,” I received a reply from a snotty voice, which certainly did not belong to the Itra I knew.

“Wait, who’s at the door?” I heard the true voice of Itra from within the house, out of sight, but I could definitely pin that as Itra’s.

I stayed silent, as I thought over my situation. Could it be that Itra swapped bodies with someone? No, I could come up with a much simpler solution to this. Now that I took a better look at the person at the door, I noticed that she stood shorter than me.

Even though the elevation from the house floor and the porch should have made up for the tiny difference between Itra’s height difference between us. Usually, the top of Itra’s head would stop at eye level for me, but the person at the door stood just over my chin, even with the elevated surface.

Finally, the true image of Itra gently moved the false one to the side to get a good look at me. Her brows were initially furrowed, but she relaxed when she caught sight of me. Tiny Itra didn’t relax though, she shook her head to look from Itra to me repeatedly.

“Illate,” Itra greeted, “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I’m glad I could make it too,” I replied, “I’m, uh, not late, am I?”

“Oh no, you don’t need to worry about that,” Itra reassured, “just come on in for now.”

“Itra, who’s this?” asked the tiny version of Itra in her nasal voice, as I made my way inside to shake off my shoes, “How come you’re bringing him into the house?”

“He’s my friend,” Itra told her small clone, “from school.”

“I didn’t know you had friends!” the childish Itra quipped, causing the real Itra to double over.

“That’s ridiculous,” I defended Itra, “of course she’d have friends.”

“Really? But aren’t you her only friend?” the haughtier version of Itra retorted, further disabling Itra, in some kind of self-loathing laughter.

“No, that’s not true,” I said, “she’s got all kinds of friends, like…”

Not having any names to share, I turned to Itra, but she continued hunching over in a fake pain. Did she really not have any names to share? Maybe she was too busy being amused, so I decided to pull names that I already knew.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Like, um, Harry Ballman!” I pulled out the name of my closest friend, “Yeah, he’s a great guy.”

Suddenly though, the miniature Itra began snickering, whilst holding her belly. I did not get the reaction I expected. Then again, she didn’t seem like the type to go from a haughty attitude to an impressed one.

“Ksh-ksh,” she sounded, “ksh-hahaha!”

“W-what?” I shrank, “What’s so funny?”

“T-that name!” she cried in laughter, “H-Harry Ballsman!”

“Huh? What’s with the extra s?” I questioned, “How’s that so funny?”

Ignoring my questions, Itra’s clone began giggling and running around the house. I didn’t get what went on in that fake Itra’s head, but I think she was enjoying herself. That on its own is a good thing.

“I-I’m sorry about Reti,” apologized the real Itra, “she can be very bothersome at times.”

“At least she’s having fun,” I commented, “So Reti’s her name, huh?”

“That’s right, she’s my cousin,” Itra confirmed, “she’s always been attached to me, and even styled her hair like mine…”

Itra twirled a few strands of her short, brown hair, when she brought up how Reti copied her hairstyle. If you asked me though, Itra didn’t exactly have a set style. Not that I knew a thing about hair and its styles, of course. It’s just that Itra’s hair just looked messy to me. She probably lightly combed it though, since it still flowed towards the base of her neck, in a way.

“She does look a lot like you,” I remarked, “her copying the way you keep your hair must have made it harder to discern between each other.”

“Maybe,” Itra mumbled, “anyways, come on in, you’ve been standing in the entryway for a while now.”

“R-right, let’s go in then,” I responded, “where will you bring me?”

“Well, I think I’ll show you to my brother first, he’s been wanting to meet you,” Itra decided, “he took a lot of interest in you, whenever I talked about my days at school…”

An instinct inside of me told me I should run. There was nowhere to go, though, and Itra had me in her sights. If I upped and ran away, she might get concerned about me. Why would I even run anyway? What’s there to be afraid of?

Itra introduced me to her brother. He stood three heads taller than me, and observed me with squinted eyes. Similarly to my sister, he looked old, but only fresh out of college. Still, he had the air of an adult, and also the muscles that usually came along with an athlete.

“Hmph, you don’t look like much,” the guy commented with his arms folded, “you’re the guy Itra’s been hanging out with?”

“Th-that’s right,” I nodded, “I think…we’re talking about the boy she’s been tutoring every day, right?”

“Hah, you’re the one all right,” Itra’s brother chuckled, “you’re just as meek and wimpy as I expected.”

“Arti! Don’t talk to him like that!” Itra scolded, “He’s not wimpy!”

“You sure? He looks wimpy to me,” he glanced at me, “I doubt he’d be able to protect you from any bullies.”

“I’m sure he would step up if I’m in trouble,” Itra argued, “right, Illate?”

“W-well…” I pondered the idea, “I would certainly want to, but…I don’t think I’d be able to do anything…”

“Hah! See? Wimpy,” Arti used my reaction as proof for his argument, “don’t worry, kid, you can leave the protection to me.”

“Yes, sir,” I aimed my gaze to the floor, not maintaining eye contact.

Oddly, the living room didn’t have anyone other than Arti inside. All the chattering in the house came from the kitchen, just a few feet away from us. I think Reti ran into the dining room, but I didn’t get a clear view of it from the entrance.

The couches were all upright, except for the one Arti sat in, which extended its bottom into some sort of legrest. He had the remote right next to him, but the television didn’t have anything on. Maybe he’d just turned it off, to focus more of his attention on Itra and I.

My head shot up, when I noticed Arti’s feet step just in front of mine, as he studied my face. This caused my heart rate to speed up a bit, but it slowly settled down.

“I got it,” he snapped, “I’ll train you.”

“Huh?” I shrank, “train me?”

“That’s right,” Arti confirmed, “just like Itra trains your brain, I’ll train your muscles.”

“Um, Arti,” Itra tried to rein her brother in, but he just kept going.

“Heh! Yeah! This could work!” Arti grabbed a slip of paper and scribbled a few digits on it, “Anytime you feel like you’re in need of some muscle training, call me. I’ll help you.”

“R-right,” I nodded, not knowing what to do, “will do.”

Before Arti could get another word in, a call from the kitchen sounded, “It’s time to eat! Everyone get into the kitchen!”