The test
609 Words
Kaito was never one to trust easily.
Especially not someone claiming to be family.
Especially not her.
She had arrived out of nowhere, wrapped in foreign accent and fake fragility, stumbling into their world like a misplaced doll.
Blind. Delicate. Suspiciously perfect.
He didn’t buy it.
And if Lena Takahashi thought she could fool him—
She was about to learn the hard way.
---
It began the very next morning.
He found her alone in the greenhouse behind the estate, where bright sunlight pierced through the glass panels and wild orchids curled toward the ceiling like reaching hands.
She was sitting on the floor, legs crossed, fingers gently brushing petals.
“You’re up early,” he said from the doorway.
She stiffened. Then gave a small smile. “I always wake with the sun.”
“Can you see it?” he asked casually.
She turned her head slowly toward his voice. “No,” she whispered. “But I can feel its warmth.”
Kaito’s first test. Passed.
---
Later that afternoon, he left his shoes in the hallway.
Purposely.
He watched from the shadows as she walked toward them with her cane, bare feet padding softly over the polished wood floor.
She’ll avoid them. She’ll see them.
But her foot hit the first shoe squarely, sending it skidding.
She stumbled slightly, confused, then gently nudged the cane to find out what she'd hit.
Then bent, picked it up, and set it aside.
Kaito’s second test. Passed.
He narrowed his eyes.
Maybe she really couldn’t see.
Or maybe… she was just that good.
---
Dinner came.
He swapped the position of the utensils on her table.
She picked up the fork instead of the spoon, but didn’t flinch. She ate her soup with it, calm and composed.
When the butler asked if she needed help, she smiled gently and said, “I’m used to adapting.”
Kaito’s third test. Passed.
---
He pushed harder.
The next day, he spilled oil across the marble near the staircase. A trap.
She stepped down, her foot nearly slipping—but at the last second, her cane tapped the slick, and she paused.
Sniffed.
“…There’s something on the floor,” she said quietly.
“What kind of something?” he asked from behind her.
“It smells like cleaning fluid. Maybe… oil?”
She stepped backward, slowly. Carefully.
Kaito’s fourth test. Passed.
Now he was watching her with something sharper than suspicion.
It was interest.
---
Then came the final test.
He took her to his music room—an empty, cold space with a glossy black piano.
He sat on the bench and played a simple melody. Calm, eerie.
“Do you like music?” he asked.
“I do,” she said, standing near the doorway.
“Describe what you hear.”
She tilted her head as if listening deeply.
“The keys sound clean. Minor. You’re not using the pedal—so it’s a little cold… like something unfinished. But there’s emotion in it. Pain.”
His fingers stilled on the keys.
Lena smiled faintly. “Your left hand presses harder. Like it’s angry.”
Kaito looked at her for a long time.
Then slowly nodded.
Kaito’s final test.
Passed.
---
That night, in his dark room filled with sealed documents and forgotten weapons, Kaito stared at the old picture he’d hidden for years.
It was a woman with sea-glass eyes and auburn hair…
Holding a baby girl swaddled in white.
“…You’re good,” he muttered, tossing the picture aside.
He didn’t trust her yet.
But maybe…
Just maybe...
She was who she claimed to be.
- Writer
