Far away from the cities which oppress the soul of those who dare to look up at the melding of human ingenuity, concrete and steel, in the middle of a beautiful meadow stood two small girls. Around them were flowers of all colours, mesmerising, pure green grass, above them was the blindingly grey sky filled with the reflections of those indifferent structures, and between them was a man coated in golden armour, both of his hands raised in front of the girls' faces. The young girls were clearly twins as both of them wore the same clothes, had the same, sapphire blue irises and even had their long, raven black hair tied into a ponytail the same way. However, today was not one of the days were they had to show their similarity, as it was one of his exercises again.
The man in golden armour, the teacher of the young twins told them that this would be one of the more important lessons. The two young girls, while looking exactly the same, were not the same person and regardless of the fact that they shared most of their experiences, thought in a different way, if ever so slightly. He intended this sparring session to show him the differences of the twins so that he may expand on their strengths and weaknesses, however, what he got was not quite what he imagined.
As soon as the man in golden armour stepped out of the twins' line of sight, the young girls did not budge a single millimetre. They looked like they were waiting for the other to make a move, to make a mistake, but the man knew that they were not taught enough to do something like that. However, the tension was soon broken as the slightly younger sister made a precise uppercut, but the slightly older one evaded it just as precisely. Blow after blow was traded between the sisters, yet none of them hit, and they used the same combination of moves without even the slightest difference.
The man knew that this was impossible, because the twins were clearly not masters, yet now they behaved as if they had been practicing the martial art for a long time. He could not believe that these two were the same ones whom he just started instructing a few weeks ago, and as his mind followed strike after strike, he declared that this scene had to be impossible. Yet there it was, in front of his eyes, and even as the younger sisters grew more and more tired, they failed to hit each other, still evading every attack so precisely that even he would be proud of. However, as the fight grew longer, the man noticed something else: the sisters never even tried to use attacks that would involve grabbing the opponent, even if they were obvious counters to the moves used on them, they would just simply evade the blow.
After the man noticed that, the battle slowed down for a few seconds, each sister eyeing the other as she rested, looking for openings yet again, in a way that left the man speechless. This time, it was the slightly older sister who broke the standstill, and it was then that the man realised the truth. What he mistook for a fight was actually a coordinated show, a theatre piece, a stage play, anything except what he actually tried to set up. But the twins had no way of knowing that he would set them up for this. When and where did they speak to each other about this, and more importantly, when did they have the time to practice this elaborate piece of art?
As blow after blow was traded, the man realised the futility of his thoughts and clapped his hands, thus ending the fight. He would have to give some more precise instructions to these two and reprimand them for practicing when he was not looking, ignoring the warning bells in his head that told him there was something wrong with the twins.
