Chapter Four: Kamui Learns to Cook
Fuuma didn't sleep much that night either. Kamui had not exactly known why Fuuma had been so irked, but he was able to figure out that his owner was angry with him, and sulked guiltily for much of the evening. Fuuma discovered he was quite unable to stay angry at the persocon, especially when Kamui had meant well. Once forgiveness had been issued, Kamui happily went back to the magazine, reading it over and over again while Fuuma did a bit of light homework.
The homework, which could have been completed in about an hour and a half, had taken almost four hours. Kamui learned things quickly, but Fuuma caught on just as fast. The cute, innocent, happy little persocon was the worst distraction he'd ever encountered. Fuuma had caught himself watching him more than once, for large chunks of time. It wasn't one specific thing that kept commanding Fuuma's attention; everything about the persocon was so foreign to him, so wonderful and different. Unfortunately, Kamui's wonderfulness had made it impossible to complete his homework until quite late at night. Fuuma remembered crawling into bed beside the persocon -who had fallen asleep long before him, which had resulted in several rounds of "observation" - somewhere around two in the morning.
Fifteen hours later, on his way home from a disastrous soccer practice, Fuuma promised himself an early night. The next day was Sunday, his day off, and he had the whole day to do his homework and catch up on sleep. He also had a plan to take Kamui to the person Sorata had recommended; in the midst of his grief, the Kansai boy managed to give him the name of Imonoyama Nokoru. Fuuma wondered if this Nokoru was part of -the- Imonoyama family, the one that owned nearly half of Japan. He'd know tomorrow, one way or the other. He just hoped he'd be able to come away from the visit with some answers.
He covered his mouth as a huge yawn slipped out, fumbling in his duffel bag for his house key. Coach had scolded him during practice for being half-asleep on the field, benching him for most of the session. As embarrassing as that had been, Fuuma was grateful to the man for not forcing him to play. He would have been trampled into the dirt in this condition.
"I'm home." He called as he entered the house, trying not to sound as tired as he felt. Dropping his bag next to the door, he bent down to take his shoes off.
"Welcome home, oniichan!" Kotori called from the kitchen. Fuuma could hear pots and pans banging around and remembered that it was her night to cook. His stomach tightened with hunger, grumbling urgently. He didn't care what she was making, he just hoped she'd made a lot. "Dinner's almost ready," she called, bless her little heart. "Why don't you go up and change?" Her voice drifted off to a lower volume, and several giggles could be heard over the ring of a timer.
One of her friends must have come over for dinner, Fuuma reasoned, heading upstairs. That was fine, Father liked it when they brought friends home, though Fuuma speculated that he just liked to know his children had lives beyond the family and school. Both of them had been so closed off after Mother had died; Kotori had taken less time to recover, but she was younger and had a personality that demanded she be with people. It had taken Fuuma nearly six months to come out of his shell. Two years later, the Monou family had returned to normal, which was probably more therapeutic than anything else.
Fuuma let himself into his room, slapping at the wall for a moment before finding the light switch. Crossing to his dresser, he pulled out some clothes to change into and began to unbutton his collar.
In his drowsy haze, he managed to get halfway out of his uniform before he realized that he was all by himself.
"Kamui?" He called, waiting to hear the name echoed in a reply. When nothing came, Fuuma felt a lump settle in his stomach. Kamui was gone. Fearfully, his mind considered all the worst possible things that could have happened to his persocon. Kamui's curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd wandered out of the house and gotten lost…
Or maybe he'd been kidnapped! After all, -someone- had thrown him in the trash, it wasn't unreasonable to think they might have discovered his disappearance and had come to take him back… where was he now? Was he hurt? Fuuma glanced at the clock and grimaced as he remembered Kamui's reaction to the alarm. Given the persocon's fear of loud noises, it was likely he was scared, wherever he was.
Throwing on his change of clothes, Fuuma raced down the stairs, skidding toward the kitchen. "Kotori, I've gotta go out!" He called, poking his head under the curtain that covered the door. "I forgot something at school and I have to go get--"
"Fuuma!"
At first, Fuuma felt nothing but confusion. Kotori never called him that, and the voice was too young to be his father's. His sister didn't have many male friends, certainly none that she'd invite home for dinner. The boys at school knew better than to have designs on his sister; their fear of what he would do to them was widespread.
He looked around the kitchen as his name was called again, and a second emotion, relief, flooded through him. Kamui sat at the counter, in the middle of cutting vegetables for dinner. The persocon beamed at him, setting the knife down to wave happily. "Welcome home!"
Fuuma waved back, walking briskly toward Kamui and giving him a quick hug. He'd been so worried, afraid something bad had happened. A small voice nagged in the back of his mind, asking why he cared so much about a machine he'd only acquired two days ago. He pushed the voice away and looked down at Kamui. "I'm so glad you're all right!" He exclaimed. "What're you doing down here?"
Kotori, not seeming upset in the least that she'd been temporarily forgotten, giggled. "I found him!"
Kamui smiled up at him and Fuuma felt his cheeks go red as he remembered his audience. Quickly, he stepped away from Kamui and rounded on his sister. "What were you doing in my room?!"
"Well, today was laundry day, and I wanted to see if you had any dirty clothes." She turned back to the pot on the stove, checking to make sure nothing was burning. "And there he was, just sitting on the bed, watching the door." She giggled. "He's so cute, he kept asking for you, and then I had to explain your schedule so he'd understand."
Kamui had returned to chopping the vegetables, cutting each one in a precise, calculated fashion. "How was soccer, Fuuma?" He asked, clearly proud of his newfound abilities in conversation.
Fuuma smiled a little, proud of him too, though a little jealous that it hadn't been a lesson he'd taught. "It was fine." Kotori hopped over to Kamui's side to gauge his progress, squealing with delight. "He's so cute, oniichan!" She gushed, patting his hair. "And such a smart persocon, Daddy will be so happy when he comes home. Where did you find him?"
Again, the strange, bristling jealousy prickled across Fuuma's mind. Since when was Kamui going to be a family possession? He'd been the one to find the persocon, after all. -He- should be the one to decide who owned him. Kotori was still looking at him expectantly, while the object of this one-sided sibling dispute continued to cut vegetables. Shaking his head, Fuuma reminded himself that half of his reasons for wanting a persocon in the first place had been because it would make life for his family easier. He had to remember that, no matter how much it irked him to share, it was for the good of the family.
"I found him…." Fuuma trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "I, ah, found him in a used persocon shop near work." He didn't want his family to know where Kamui had really come from, not until he knew why the persocon was so different from the others. If he told them the truth, they'd ask questions he had no answers to, and Father might disapprove of the idea of his son picking up trash and bringing it home.
Not that Kamui was trash by any stretch of the imagination, he amended.
Kotori clapped her hands. "Oh, that's wonderful, oniichan! You work so hard and you bought us this!" She hugged him tightly. "Daddy'll be so proud of you!" She squealed, letting him go and tending to the stew on the stove, calling for Kamui to come and dump the vegetables into the pot. The persocon followed her direction without question, peeking over the rim to watch the food cook.
Fuuma frowned, watching the two of them together. Kamui smiled widely as Kotori praised his work, then jumped when the buzzer on the stove went off, looking scared only briefly, until Kotori patted his head.
He didn't eat much at dinner, despite his previous hunger. After the meal was over, he begged off dish duty and went upstairs to bed.