ray

Rey Fukuda scrolled through the comments under his latest post—another striking cosplay, where he, as a dark antihero, was frozen in a perfectly executed pose: chin slightly raised, a cold gaze, the ghost of a half-smile. He did it almost automatically: a couple of likes, a few answers to questions, a stream of "you're the best," "I want that costume," "when's the new video?"

And suddenly one comment made him freeze.

A photo was attached. It was of a girl, and there was something strangely familiar about the frame. She stood with the same defiant demeanor as he did: her head held high, as if the whole world should look up to her. The pathos was almost comical, yet at the same time, impeccable.

Rey peered closer. The shape of his face… the same defined cheekbones, the same slightly pointed chin. His eyes… he blinked, as if trying to break a spell. The color was identical—dark brown with a barely noticeable amber rim around the pupil, the one photographers always loved to catch on him. Even the angle of his head, even the slight shadow above his brow—it all seemed copied from him.

"You and I are clearly from the same universe 😄," was written under the photo.

Rey grinned, his fingers automatically reaching for the keyboard.

"Either we have the same stylist, or it's magic. Do you even realize how similar we are? I feel like an anime character who suddenly found his lost twin."