"Hey, dad, what's that?"

Yuma Kuga barely managed to see over his father's desk, standing on his toes as tiny fingers grasped at the edge. He eyed the shiny object on its surface curiously, turning to the man working on said object for an explanation.

"A friend," the father, Yugo Kuga, replied without taking his eyes off the rounded shape. He did take a second to pat the top of Yuma's head, while the child looked up in confusion.

"A friend?" Yuma echoed, grumbling at his dad's indecipherable answer - by this point, he was used to them. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Eh?" Yugo turned his head, wearing a friendly expression. "He's your friend. Or, will be, when I get him up and running. This one's being stubborn."

"You're so weird," Yuma muttered, although despite his attempts to sound cooler than he was, he was fascinated with the robot-looking thing his dad was working with, whatever it might have been. Yuma was five years old at the time, and ever since his early years he had constantly begged his father to teach him how to build the machines and such he almost always saw Yugo tinkering with. At first Yugo had refused, believing the majority of his work not to be safe for a five year-old, (which it really wasn't) until Yuma burned his hand trying to teach himself and Yugo decided it would be better to show him the basics, rather than leave the curious child thinking he could figure it out through trial and error.

Yuma stared on, truly understanding only a small bit of what Yugo was doing, but at least in his mind he seemed to think otherwise. "What's it for?"

"You, mostly."

"Me?"

"Mm."

"Why?"

Yugo laughed. "For one thing, don't you get bored with just me around? And on top of that we could always use another hand around here, but it'll be nice to give you a companion."

Yuma furrowed his brows, almost pouting. "I don't need another companion, dad, you're already here."

"Is that so?" Yugo ruffled his son's dark hair, moving from the unfinished project as he lifted Yuma to his lap. "Come on, it'll be nice to have another voice of reason. Not to mention, I won't always be around, s-"

"Nah, you'll always be around." Yuma murmured in protest, looking up at his father with round, cherry eyes as he tried to convince himself his brain wasn't sleepy. "Right?"

Yugo paused, not entirely sure what would be a correct response to the bright-faced boy clutching his sleeve - he was ignorant, but perhaps that was a good thing for now.

"Sure, kiddo."

Five years came and went, quicker than Yugo had hoped. Yuma grew quickly, becoming quite handy in Yugo's field, enough to the point where he was allowed to create his own miniature devices by the age of nine. He was ten now, and quite a handful, but that was among the reasons Replica was there.

It had also been five years since Yugo built Replica, an autonomous robotic guardian to look after Yuma. He was happy to see his son forming a relationship with said guardian, and at this point Yugo wasn't entirely sure how he would manage without the familiar presence of the 'glorified rice cooker', as he had once described him to Yuma while trying to explain the design inspiration.

Meanwhile, science was moving forward in leaps in bounds, with the discovery of extraterrestrial life forms that peaked Yugo's interest. He began to gear his research in that direction, being careful to keep Yuma in the dark for most of it in fear of discovering anything that was 'less optimistic' compared to what the media would release.

And unfortunately for the both of them, he did.

Another year, and following a series of events an official declaration of war against Earth had been made, by the same humanoids people had been so overjoyed to discover. There was no use in shielding an eleven year-old Yuma from that fact, but the least Yugo could do was promise him that he would be safe. Yugo didn't like to lie, so he avoided saying anything about his own future, not welcoming questions the man knew he couldn't answer.

He could hear Yuma from the other room, playing a board game of some sort with Replica. Yugo sighed, out of both happiness and rivaling sadness, and an awareness at the coming danger Japan would face. It was difficult to predict when it would peak, and Yugo could only wish he would be granted enough time, but regardless of the cost he was determined to save his son.

Four more years, Yuma had turned fifteen and the entire world was on the losing side of the war. At fifteen he could grasp the situation more realistically, and on several occasions had mentioned applying for the military to follow in his father's footsteps. Before the war, Yugo had been an unofficial advisor for a friend already ranked in it, and due to his skills was then scouted, giving him access to the pools of information unavailable to citizens. Yuma knew of some of this information, though that fraction was limited for his own protection.

It was because of this privilege that Yugo had already prepared for the worst, knowing that his country in its current state, weakened by superior numbers and power, would cease to exist sometime in the months to come. This prediction, made not only by Yugo but the majority of Japanese military leaders, was kept from the public to retain what little order there was left, and 'peaceful' evacuations had already progressed.

The government urged citizens to leave the country, not necessarily to save them, but to buy them more time to live. The chance of saving people was close to nothing, yet it was instilled in those still living in Japan they would be safer overseas. After all, hope was the greatest weapon, if not to the enemy then to human despair.

Yugo knew he was going to die; people serving in the military would leave last, if at all, and by then it would be too late. He also knew Yuma would absolutely refuse to evacuate if Yugo would end up being left behind, and if that was the case so be it. With Replica he may have been able to get the stubborn boy to depart, even against his will, but from Yugo's viewpoint it was obvious that regardless of where one fled, a protected place to go was nonexistent.

So Yuma would stay in Japan, but not to die with Yugo. He was going to live, Yugo made sure of that, and if all went as he so, so desperately hoped, eventually his son would be able to live a normal life, and if not a normal one a happier one.

Yugo had used up a great chunk of whatever spare time he could get his hands on in the past few years preparing for this, creating a project kept secret from Yuma through a series of excuses and Replica's assistance. There was no guarantee it would be a success, but Yugo was willing to bet on the other outcomes if there was a possibility of saving Yuma's life. If he had more time Yugo would have made alterations to the project to accommodate more than person, but he did not, and in fact barely managed to link it with Replica.

"Goodnight, dad," Yuma called from outside his bedroom, interrupting Yugo's thoughts and sounding tired and looking forward to the warm escape of unconsciousness. Yugo heard the door closing, and then a sloppy series of footsteps before Yuma crawled into bed.

His eyes drifted over the messy pile of plans and sketches, each one outlining each and every detail of what was to become of Yuma's life, and then his gaze rose to the ceiling, as he leaned back in his chair before standing and quietly walking down the narrow hallway. Yugo stopped in front of Yuma's door, gently placing a hand on the wood. Later that night, when Yuma would not wake upon an intrusion he would probably say goodnight once more, and it pained him to know that Yuma was unaware a simple 'goodnight' would be the last word exchanged between him and his father.

Despite all of this, somehow, Yugo managed to smile.

"Goodnight, Yuma. You'll wake up to a better world."

And so, five years passed again. Five years passed again ten times.