Chapter Three: Kamui Knows How to Clean
"Man, I think someone replaced you with your not-so-evil twin."
Rubbing his eyes, Fuuma turned in his desk chair to face Arisugawa Sorata. His classmate regarded him with a strange expression. "What're you talking about?" Fuuma mumbled in reply, stifling a yawn behind his hand. Less than five hours of sleep in a night definitely didn't agree with him. Luckily, the day was almost over; the class milled around the room, waiting for the last bell and the dismissal from the teacher.
Sorata pointed at him. "There! That's what I'm talkin' about!" The transfer student from Osaka wagged his finger in Fuuma's face. "You were late this morning, you're fallin' asleep in class, you didn't do your homework, and you're totally zoned."
Fuuma shrugged. One missed assignment wouldn't kill him, and lessons had been boring. Anyone would have dozed off had they been in his shoes. "Sorry, I was up late."
Sorata's eyebrows shot straight up. "Oh -really-?" He asked, a grin pulling at his face. Fuuma rolled his eyes. If anyone was more into sex than he, it was his friend. At least he knew who to blame if anyone asked. "How late and who with?"
"Actually, not 'who', it's more like 'what'." He coughed into his fist, bracing himself for the exact reaction he got. Sorata flopped down into his seat, a look of irritation on his face.
"Man, we have to get you a real girl… otherwise you're gonna go blind."
Despite preparation, Fuuma choked, turning red. "NO!" He snapped, glancing around to make sure no one had heard Sorata's big mouth. "I got a persocon last night after work."
"Really?" Sorata cried, sitting up straight. "Cool! You said you'd never be able to afford one." Grinning, he clapped Fuuma on the back. "Did you get one of the used models? If you go to the right place, they're usually bug-free."
"I don't know if it's used." Fuuma admitted. "I don't think it was, but I found it in the trash, so I've got no idea."
"DUDE! Free persocon, you are one lucky bastard."
Fuuma shook his head. "No, I'm not. I still have to buy software for it." He cringed at the thought of how much it was going to cost him. "Could you come over today and take a look at it? Tell me what I need?"
"Sure thing, man." Sorata pulled his schoolbag out from under his chair and opened it. "Hey, 'nee-chan."
After a moment, a little head poked out of the top of the bag, looking around with a dull, vaguely irritated expression. Sorata squealed. "She's so cute! I still can't get over it."
Fuuma was beginning to think that cuteness was essential to the design of a persocon. Sorata's mobile unit climbed out of the bag and landed on her feet, smoothing her pleated skirt as she looked up at him. "Yes, Sora-chan?" The nickname which Sorata begged people to call him by sounded rather strange coming from a six-inch computer who spoke in a soft, bored voice. Sorata, however, seemed even more tickled.
"We're goin' over to Monou's after school, so can you call home and tell Gramps that I'll be late for dinner?"
The persocon, whom Sorata had named Arashi, nodded once before her eyes flickered and went blank. Fuuma watched with interest. He'd seen this done before, but never when he had his own frame of reference. The look on the Arashi's face was the same as Kamui's had been when Fuuma had hooked him up to the television screen. "Message sent." Arashi intoned, returning to normal and looking up at Sorata once again.
Sorata patted her head. "Sanykuu, 'nee-chan." He chirped, holding out his hand, palm up, on the desk. Arashi stepped onto it delicately, and Sorata lifted her to sit on his shoulder. Technically, students weren't allowed to have their persocons out during class time, but since everyone -including the teacher-was watching the clock, no one was going to yell at Sorata.
As the bell rang, the teacher waved her hand and called for the students to get out of the classroom so she could do her grading quickly. Fuuma and Sorata shouldered their schoolbags and headed out with the rest of their classmates, Arashi holding onto the collar of Sorata's uniform as he walked. "Did you bring your bike today?"
Fuuma shook his head. "Kotori took it because I was taking too long."
Sorata rubbed the back of his neck. "Tough break, man." He said, then paused, a gleam appearing in his eyes. "Does that mean she'll be at your house by the time we get there?" He asked, cackling and rubbing his hands together in a decidedly dramatic fashion.
Fuuma smacked the back of his head. "No, stupid. She's going out with her friends." He glowered, raising his voice to be heard over his friend's chorus of 'ow'. "Besides," he grinned. "She knows better than to stay in the same room with you."
"You wound me, Monou."
"Not nearly enough for my peace of mind." Fuuma shot back as they left the building. The walk to the Tokagushi Shrine, where he and his family lived, was relatively short. Since he'd had to run to school that morning, Fuuma was immensely grateful for that fact.
The two boys walked quickly, trading good-natured barbs almost the entire trip. Pulling his keys out of his schoolbag, Fuuma unlocked the front door just in time to hear a buzzing noise coming from the stairway. "Shit!" He dropped his bag and took the stairs two at a time, nearly slipping on the polished wood as he slid along it in his socks.
Fuuma threw open his bedroom door and was instantly knocked flat on his back, his head connecting solidly with the floor as Kamui buried his face in his jacket. The persocon was shaking. "Too loud!" Fuuma just blinked slowly to clear the spots from his eyes and push back the pain in his head. "Fuuma stop noise." Kamui whimpered, sounding as if he were near tears.
"You know your alarm clock's goin' off." Sorata called, coming up himself. "Though, why you set your alarm for when you're not home is beyond me…." The Kansai boy trailed off as he reached the top of the stairs, eyes widening. "Don't let me interrupt anything."
Fuuma sat up, bringing the still-clinging Kamui with him, and groaned as everything swam briefly. "Oh shut up." He mumbled, having the presence of mind to yank the hem of Kamui's t-shirt down completely so it was no longer riding quite so high up his thigh. "Turn that thing off, will you?"
To his credit, Sorata did as asked with little to no teasing. He squatted down next to the pair on the floor, looking Kamui over. "I'm guessing this is the persocon." He poked at Kamui, who just watched him with the ever-present curiosity. Sorata lifted the shirt a little, eliciting a squawk of protest from Fuuma, which he ignored. "I figured you'd get a female model, but I suppose beggars can't be choosers."
Fuuma snorted darkly. "Thanks."
Sorata continued to examine Kamui, a puzzled frown creasing his face. "I can't find a serial number or anything on it; that means it's gotta be a custom model. " He grasped Kamui's chin and looked at those wide purple eyes, frown deepening before he turned to Fuuma. "You said it needs a software upgrade?"
"No," Fuuma replied, shaking his head. Kamui, having been released from Sorata's hold, did the same. "I need software. He doesn't have any."
"You're kidding, right?" Sorata asked, looking surprised and even more confused than before. "That's not possible."
"I'm not kidding. I tried to boot him up and just got an error that said he had no data."
Sorata bounced a little on the balls of his feet, resting his arms on his knees. Kamui climbed off of Fuuma and imitated him. Sorata patted his head idly. "If it had no OS, then it shouldn't even be moving."
"OS?" Fuuma asked, glancing at Kamui out of the corner of his eye.
"Operating System." Sorata clarified, running a hand through his hair. Kamui did the same. "Without a program to tell them what to do, persocons are just really expensive dolls." Sorata lifted Arashi off his shoulder and set her on the floor. "Maybe it's just hard to find. We'll see if 'nee-chan can at least find its registry files, so we know what kind of persocon it is."
Opening up one of Arashi's tiny plastic ears, Sorata connected a thin cable to a port inside one of Kamui's ears. Kamui followed his movements intently, reaching out to touch the cable. Sorata shooed his hand away, and Kamui contented himself with looking over at Fuuma, who just raised his eyebrows and shrugged, as if to relay that he didn't know any more than the persocon did about what was going on.
Satisfied that everything was properly connected, Sorata lifted Arashi into his hands and placed her on his knee, so he could see better. "Okay, 'nee-chan, run a basic diagnostic and then run a search for the registry."
"Yes, Sora-chan." Arashi's face slackened as she began her assignment. Kamui leaned forward a little, peering at Arashi. "Little."
Fuuma nodded. "Mobile unit." He amended, turning to Sorata. "How long does it usually--"
His question was interrupted by a shriek from Arashi, who toppled over into Sorata's waiting hands. Her eyes remained blank, and thin wisps of smoke curled out from her ears.
"'NEE-CHAN!!" Sorata shouted, face crumpling. He cradled the little persocon to his chest, huge tears flowing in rivers down his cheeks. "No, 'nee-chan! Don't leave meeeeeee!!"
Fuuma and Kamui exchanged a surprised glance. "What happened?!" Fuuma asked quickly, peering over Sorata's shoulder at the inert little body.
Sorata stifled three or four sobs before facing him, looking bitter and glowering. "What HAPPENED?!" He fumed. "Your persocon FRIED my 'nee-chan!!" He turned back to Arashi, lower lip trembling. "And I just upgraded her too… but it's gone, it's all GONE!!"
Fuuma looked Kamui over hurriedly. "You okay, Kamui?"
"Kamui okay."
Sorata sniffled loudly. "That thing's got some serious issues." He griped, clutching Arashi in one hand. "Get me a piece of paper and a pencil." When Fuuma retrieved them, Sorata scribbled down a name and address, pausing frequently to wipe his eyes. "This guy can probably tell you what's up with your persocon." He said, shoving the paper at Fuuma and standing. "See you later."
Fuuma sat in surprised silence as Sorata turned and tromped down the stairs. "Hang in there, 'nee-chan." He heard him murmur. "I'll find a way to save you!"
The Kansai boy muttered like that until the closing of the front door cut him off. After a moment, Fuuma looked over at Kamui. "Well, that was interesting." He said slowly. Actually, he had found the whole ordeal faintly disturbing. He had no idea a person could be -that- attached to a machine, so much so that they openly grieved when it broke. Shaking his head, he ruffled Kamui's hair a little as he stood. "I hope I don't end up like him."
After the dinner dishes had been dried and put away, Fuuma climbed the stairs to his room. He hoped Kamui didn't have any questions tonight, he was too exhausted to deal with them. When he entered the room, Kamui looked up from a magazine. Fuuma groaned, not again. At least he had come in before the little copycat began to try out any new poses.
Kamui pointed to the magazine. "Not bad!" He insisted, holding up the glossy-paged issue. It was one of Kotori's fashion magazines, which was certainly much better than porn where Kamui was concerned, though Fuuma did wonder where he'd gotten it.
"Right, Kamui." He replied, crossing to his dresser and pulling out a clean pair of pajama pants. "That's not bad at all."
"No more bad. Make bad go away."
Fuuma paused, his shirt halfway over his head. "What did you say?"
"Kamui make bad go away."
//I hope he doesn't mean what I think he means…// Fuuma tossed his shirt on the floor and began to check around the room. The more places he inspected, the bigger the gnawing irritation became. The stack of magazines under the pile of clothes in his closet was gone, as was the box under his bed. Even the emergency reserve he had hidden in the bottom dresser drawer had been taken. "I don't believe this!"
Kamui mistook his growing annoyance and beamed. "All clean!!"