A longer chapter, teeming with exposition! Lots of dialogue, fluff (are we surprised, not really) and not a lot of action. It's necessary, I promise, and Chapter 12 is probably more interesting than this one. I didn't anticipate at the beginning for Nokoru to have such a large role, though considering how much ink Minoru received, it's hardly a surprise. But truthfully, I have a soft spot for Nokoru, this incarnation and the original, so I'm not too upset that I got to give him some more character development. ^^
Chapter 11 - Nokoru Tells a Story
Fuuma had honestly forgotten how heavy his persocon could be without all the technological gadgets helping to shift the weight. He, Kotori and Sorata were exhausted by the time they returned to the Tokagushi shrine. None of them had much to say during the trip, each lost within his or her own thoughts. Strange, for two of the most talkative people he knew, but Fuuma had more to worry about at the moment than the pair's uncharacteristic silence. He chalked it up to the weirdness of the evening and left it at that.
During the hour that passed between the persocon freeze-up and the arrival home, and Kamui failed to even stir.
Sorata eventually took his leave, once he was sure the Monou siblings could handle themselves. Kotori walked him to the door and thanked him for his help while had Fuuma struggled to get his precious burden upstairs. He'd barely heard his sister wish him good night, offering some quiet assurances that everything would turn out all right.
Fuuma couldn't help wondering what he'd do if Kamui had shorted out completely. He'd been prepared to scold the little persocon up and down for getting wrapped up in a strip show; he'd planned out his criticism and had even contemplated punishment since Kamui had done exactly what he'd told him not to. All of it had vanished in the white light explosion that'd sent him chasing Kamui halfway through downtown Tokyo. All he wanted now was to have him back.
Once again, he began to wonder how he managed to get so attached to something that was little more than memory chips and wire. As he sat on the bed, watching Kamui's face for some kind of movement or flicker of life – "life" being a dicey word to use with a computer – Fuuma considered Nokoru's warning again. Kamui would break his heart if he became too fond of him. It was so clear and yet he'd managed to ignore it time and again, perhaps risking it since the pain hadn't happened yet.
Just before dawn, as Fuuma dozed at the bedside, Kamui moved.
The small hand curled around the hem of Fuuma's shirt, tugging gently until Fuuma jerked awake. Kamui smiled at him.
"Good morning, Fuuma."
At that moment, Kamui benefited from being a machine. The strength of Fuuma's hug would probably have seriously injured him had he been human.
---
"Monou-san," Yuzuriha cried out in panic. "Watch out!"
Turning too quickly, Fuuma managed to plow right into an entering customer. Wincing, he apologized even as he heard the glasses from his tray shatter all over the floor. Then he heard his boss start yelling and Yuzuriha's voice rise as she attempted to placate her grandmother.
The day which had started out so well had rapidly descended into total chaos. Fuuma learned quickly that adrenaline brought about by sleep depravation wasn't enough to sustain him at work. Neither, apparently, was the euphoria that had buoyed him along long after Kamui had woken.
Thank the gods it was almost over.
He heard his boss rail on, declaring that he'd be paying for those glasses, as well as the dozen or so he'd already dropped, with his own wages. Sighing, there wasn't much he could do besides nod and stoop to pick up the shards before someone hurt themselves on them. To his surprise, the customer bent with him and picked up the jagged pieces with delicate hands. "You look like you've had a rough day, Fuuma-kun." Fuuma looked up into the face of Magami Tokiko, the head nurse at his school. She smiled at him and continued to place glass on his tray, moving so deftly that not a cut appeared on that white skin. "Let me give you a hand."
Embarrassed, all he could do was swallow the protests he knew she wouldn't accept. "Ne, Magami-sensei--"
"Tokiko, please." She continued to smile through her round frames. "Let's leave the formalities for school." Placing the last bit of glass on his tray, she brushed her hands together carefully and stood.
"Tokiko…san," Fuuma continued, straightening as well. "How did you know my name?" He couldn't remember having to go to the nurse's station enough for her to feel so well acquainted with him.
She laughed. "When I transferred to your school, Fuuma-kun, I made a point to try and learn the names of all the students." She tapped her temple, winking at him. "I'm still working on it, but since you're one of the stand-outs on the soccer team, you made it easy for me."
Fuuma relaxed a little, her easy manner making it simple. "Where would you like to sit, Tokiko-san?" He gestured to the nearly empty restaurant, pointedly not looking in the direction of the guests whose beer was now all over the floor.
"Well," she began, tapping her chin with a long finger. "A window seat would be nice, I think."
As he showed her to a clean table, the bell above the door rang, prompting a bellow of "irrasshai" from his boss. Fuuma glanced up when he heard the greeting echoed, stifling an exasperated smile as Kamui waved happily from the foyer. Tokiko followed his gaze, her eyes widening with some surprise when she looked on the little persocon.
"Kamui-chan..."
Fuuma blinked. "You know Kamui, Tokiko-san?"
She nodded, pushing her hair off her shoulders. "He came to school one day to pick you up," she explained. "We had a very nice conversation."
As Fuuma went to put in the order for her meal, he ran into Yuzuriha. "Obaachan's so mad," she hissed urgently, looking over her shoulder to see if said woman could hear her. "I can take care of the customers, you might want to hurry out of here."
He hastily thanked the girl, handing her his remaining checks and hurrying off to the back room to change out of his uniform. It was just as well, since Kamui was there to walk home with him. Given the nature of the persocon's personality, leaving him unsupervised for any bit of time was risky. Especially after last night.
Fuuma pulled his t-shirt over his head, mechanically going through the motions of changing while his mind wandered. Kamui didn't remember anything past being in the strip show – what he related about the "modeling job" made Fuuma want to beat that guy into a pulp – and had simply given Fuuma a blank look of confusion when he'd pressed about the rest. Fuuma couldn't decide if he preferred it that way or not; he didn't really want Kamui to remember how to do... whatever it had been that he'd done. Beyond the safety implications for the city, the whole experience had been creepy.
Shouldering his backpack, he reemerged into the restaurant proper and was caught by surprise to see Tokiko taking her lunch to go while speaking animatedly with Kamui. When the persocon noticed him, he waved again, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Fuuma worked hard today," he chirped as Fuuma ruffled his hair gently.
"You're the only one who thinks so, Kamui," he answered wryly, prompting a smile from Tokiko. He looked down at his persocon and raised an eyebrow. "Ready to go home?"
"Actually, Fuuma-kun," Tokiko began. "I was wondering if I could ask you something." Fuuma turned an expectant gaze on her, his hand stilling on Kamui's shoulder. With a balancing act that bespoke of long practice, she managed to pay her bill, shoulder her purse and hold two bags of food upright... all without looking the least bit overtaxed. "I was wondering if maybe I could help you out?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Tokiko-san," he answered, genuinely confused.
"Well, I couldn't help overhearing that you're about to have some money troubles, if you don't have them already." She cast a knowing look in Kamui's direction, as if that said it all. Which it did. Persocons were expensive. And so were beer glasses.
Still, he was hesitant to accept charity. "What did you have in mind?"
She laughed. "I'm sure you wouldn't accept a loan, Fuuma-kun, to help out with Kamui-chan's upkeep. But I have a nephew about his size..." she quirked an eyebrow. "Would you let me donate some clothing for him?"
And so, a half an hour later, Fuuma and Kamui found themselves inside Tokiko's apartment, seated on her couch, while she rummaged around in her bedroom for the clothing. Kamui, per usual, glanced around at everything, taking in as many details as possible, committing it all to memory. Fuuma had his head propped on his hand and settled to watch Kamui, still hemming and hawing over the previous night. Maybe he would give Nokoru a call; the boy genius should be able to explain the basics of what happened, if not the "why."
"Okay boys," Tokiko called as she emerged from the bedroom, carrying a large box and dumping it at their feet. "This is what I have." She smiled at Kamui, who regarded her with curiosity. "You can pick out anything you want, Kamui-chan, and you get to take it home with you."
Kamui turned to Fuuma hesitantly, as if to ask if this was all right. Fuuma nodded and was happy to take a backseat while Kamui pawed through the pile of clothing. The little persocon attended to the task with the utmost concentration, using a method of selection Fuuma couldn't decipher. He was just glad Kamui hadn't gone for some of the more... interesting pieces of clothing. Kamui held up a shiny black shirt that was more buckles than material, contemplating it intensely for a moment before setting it aside, much to Fuuma's relief. An outfit like that would undoubtedly bring around more perverted losers.
Once Kamui had an armload large enough to satisfy Tokiko, she ushered him into the bedroom so he could try everything on. Fuuma checked his watch, hoping they had enough time for this before they had to get back home. While Kamui and Tokiko were gone, Fuuma poked through the clothing on his own, for something to do. He began to wonder what kind of guy this nephew was; judging by some of the wild stuff in the pile, he'd probably been a handful. The majority of that which Kamui left behind consisted of fabrics that had never existed in nature and would probably melt if exposed to direct sunlight.
He glanced up as the bedroom door opened and Tokiko led Kamui into the living room, parading him around like a prized dog at a show. He wondered why women seemed to see Kamui as their doll and if all persocon appeared that way to them. For his part, Kamui seemed to enjoy the attention, holding his arms out when directed to show off the simple white button down shirt and blue jeans. Fuuma nodded approvingly and the pair disappeared back inside the bedroom.
So it went for a while, one outfit after another until Fuuma felt like one of those old-fashioned bobble-head dolls. Everything he was shown seemed fine, he wasn't sure why they needed his opinion. Kamui had chosen tops and pants that could have been found on anyone walking outside, and had been particularly excited by the fact that he'd found a school uniform in the pile, so he could now be "like Fuuma." Beyond that, everything had been simple, agreeable and ultimately forgettable. The door opened for what seemed like the billionth time and he was greeted by Tokiko's voice gaily announcing that this outfit would be the last one. Fuuma sat up a little straighter.
And he felt his jaw sag as she ushered a suddenly shy Kamui into view. All the other clothing had run strictly conservative, tasteful and pretty much all-purpose. However, Tokiko had apparently chosen to leave the outrageous for the finale.
Kamui's last choice consisted of a snow white top, accented by gold buckles at his throat and several down his forearms. The material shimmered in the lamplight, catching the varying shades of silver, grey and metallic white that was woven into the fabric. His pants were a soft, shiny white material. Overall, the effect was excellent.
He smiled shyly at Fuuma. "Is okay?"
Brushing a hand through his hair, stalling to be able to close his mouth and collect his thoughts, Fuuma glanced down to the floor and saw the black top Kamui had discarded. The two shirts were identical, save for color. White and gold for one, black and silver for the other. He wondered why Kamui had picked one over the other. Looking back up at Kamui, he nodded for the last time. "It's nice, Kamui." He smiled when Kamui beamed, twirling around as Tokiko had shown him to do with the other outfits. "Where are you going to wear it?"
Kamui paused. "Not outside." He decided. "Inside. For Fuuma."
Tokiko laughed and shooed Kamui back into the bedroom with orders to change back into his street clothes, turning back to collect the remainders of clothing. Fuuma slid off the couch to help her out. He'd been wanting to ask her something anyway. "Tokiko-san, are you sure your nephew won't mind us taking his clothes?"
One delicate hand stilled over some shirts before resuming its careful work. Tokiko's smile contained volumes, though all Fuuma was able to decipher was the sorrow. "My nephew..." she couldn't seem to find the words she needed; this was the first time in their acquaintance that Fuuma had ever seen her look so sad and lost. "My nephew doesn't live with me anymore, Fuuma-kun."
"Oh." Fuuma inwardly chided himself for tramping all over a sensitive subject. "I'm sorry."
After a moment, her expression brightened and she nodded. "Thank you, Fuuma-kun," she said, gathering the box in her arms. "And about the clothing, I think he would have been overjoyed to help you out. He was our little angel."
Before Fuuma could say anything else, Kamui rejoined them, carrying a huge plastic bag full of his new things. Tokiko smiled at him and shifted the box to one hip so she could smooth down a few stray hairs. Kamui beamed at her, bowing graciously, as Kotori had taught him weeks and weeks ago. "Thank you very much, Tokiko-san."
The older woman returned the bow and Fuuma gently pulled Kamui out of the apartment, quietly bidding her thanks and good bye.
---
"Kaichou," the little black haired persocon chirped. Nokoru raised his head and gave Akira one of his best smiles. As ever, his companion returned it, all bubbles and light and happiness. "I made tea for you and Monou-san."
The youngest of the Imonoyama zaibatsu's genius children nodded, shifting the picture in his hand to the desk in order to accept a fine china cup. Appropriately, Suoh returned with the guest in question, the ever-awed Monou Fuuma. Nokoru afforded him a polite smile and prepared his tea, waiting for the older boy to settle on the sofa across from the desk. A cursory glance at the youth fit in with what he'd assumed, given the events of the past few days. Arisugawa had been particularly forthcoming when he'd asked for details of Kamui's disappearance and strange behavior. Monou-san's eyes were full of questions, inquiries far from the mundane worries of operating systems and software upgrades. They'd moved past that, as Nokoru had feared they might. While there appeared to be no record of Kamui's existence, a machine that heavily protected gave off far too many warning signs.
Nokoru also confirmed what Arisugawa had speculated upon: Monou-san had not heeded his advice.
"Welcome, Monou-san." The youth seemed a bit startled to be addressed, lost as he was in his own thoughts. Nokoru smiled, flipping out his fan. The characters for "it's been a while" appeared in black over the crisp white paper. "I hope you and Kamui-san are well?"
Monou-san shrugged, pushing a hand through his hair. "For now, I guess, Nokoru-san," he allowed. "Things have been kind of weird, but I'm sure you know all about it."
"I wish I knew more, Monou-san," he said lightly. "But Suoh won't let me do any research before I complete my paperwork." He felt a surge of impish glee when the blue-haired persocon shot him a withering glare. Laughing, he held up the photograph. "But, he will let me look into this one thing that might help me along."
The mention of new information was, as designed, enough to pique Monou-san's interest. He took the picture in both hands, gingerly holding it up to the light for scrutiny. It didn't take long for the recognition to dawn on his face. "Tokiko-san," he breathed, eyes widening.
This, Nokoru hadn't really expected. "You know these women, Monou-san?" He asked, sharing a perplexed glance with Suoh. Out of all the possible people to have come into contact with the sisters, Monou-san hadn't been on the list. Interesting.
The older boy looked up at them, shaking his head. "Only one of them," he corrected, scrutinizing the image further. "She's the head nurse at school. Magami Tokiko." His surprise multiplied as he finally recognized the slim figure of his persocon in the background. "What's Kamui doing there?"
It was Nokoru's turn to shake his head as he steepled his fingers together on top of his desk. "I don't know for sure yet," he confessed. "I assume they were his original owners, maybe even his creators—" he noticed Monou-san's eyes doing that glazing over thing that they had done when he'd first met Nokoru. The other was trying to comprehend that things in his life that had seemed so normal possibly weren't. "But until you told me Magami-san's name, I hadn't any leads on their identities." His smile was thin as he took the photo back. "The online community is being curiously tight-lipped about the subject."
As sure as day followed night, however, the grimness in his expression was replaced by exuberance. "But," he exclaimed happily, opening his fan to read "progress." "I'm sure the answers we're looking for are close at hand, now that you've given me this bit of information." He felt a surge of excitement bubble up in his chest, though he was careful to keep from jumping out of his chair. This query had taken weeks of his attention, weeks he'd spent putting up with Suoh's sidelong glances and scolding, weeks of letting paperwork stack up — though that was far from unusual – and he was especially looking forward to seeing the results of this search. It could be conceivable that most people, even some in his own family, would consider a persocon's identity crisis to be beneath him, but beyond it being something to occupy him, he honestly sympathized with Monou-san and Kamui. He would like to see this through to the end.
And there was also that curious blackout to consider now. Somehow, Kamui seemed to be tied to it, making this investigation all the more pertinent. He smiled brightly at Monou-san. "It's all right under our noses now."
The relief on Monou-san face was palatable and he grinned back, undoubtedly thankful to be able to put this behind him and move on with his life. Akira moved around him, picking up cups and saucers and tidying up the space. "This calls for cake!"
"Kaichou," Suoh began. "You have a meeting with Ohkawa-kaichou in twenty—"
The fan snapped open again, this time reading "Party!" "Akira has prepared cake for us," he explained patiently. "We can't very well tell him no, now can we?"
"That cake was for your meeting—"
"I'm sure Ohkawa-kaichou will understand that we had a reason to celebrate today, Suoh!" Nokoru's left eye had developed a rather pronounced tic as he pinned his persocon with an intense look that even Suoh seemed reluctant to challenge. His demeanor toward Akira was sufficiently sweeter when he turned his attention to him. "Go ahead and get it, if you please."
Akira practically bounced out of the room, happily going about his task. Nokoru watched him go, a little sigh escaping him as he thought about his upcoming birthday. Another year older…
A quiet cough brought his attention back around to his guest, who seemed to be studying him with the utmost interest. "You spoke from experience, when you gave your advice," he said quietly.
Nokoru closed his fan and set it gently on top of the desk, turning to Suoh before attempting to respond to Monou-san's rather surprising insight. "Ne, Suoh… would you go help Akira in the kitchen?" Though his blue-haired persocon might have been curious as to the sudden dismissal, he was smart enough not to question it. That was Suoh, though. Quick to fight with him on unimportant matters, but always compliant when it counted. The door closed with a soft click as the persocon left. Only then could Nokoru let the smile melt away from his face. "I did, Monou-san."
The older boy nodded, leaning forward. "What happened?" He asked, the sympathy in his eyes ready to be offered if it came to that.
Nokoru just laughed softly, the sound was sad and bitter and altogether unhappy. "Once upon a time, Monou-san," he began, leaning back in his chair. "There was a very important family whose reach extended all throughout Japan. And in this very important family was a little boy who, because of his age, was a target for every kidnapper, blackmailer and assassination attempt that the evildoers could muster." He smiled a bit to himself, remembering with a little bit of fondness all of the people who'd sought to take advantage of his family by trying to get their hands on him. He pitied those people in his own way; they were so jealous or intimidated by his family's power that the only way they could get by was to try and harm a defenseless child.
He glanced at Monou-san, who seemed shocked by the idea that someone would try and kill someone so young. He envied the kind of childhood the older boy must have had, to believe that way. "Because I was such a target," he continued, dropping the sing-song timbre to simple recitation of fact. "My family didn't allow me to interact with other children. The fear was that someone might try and influence their parents to assist in their schemes. So for quite some time, I didn't have any friends at all."
Monou-san seemed even more disquieted by this thought than he'd been by the first. Nokoru smiled just a little. "But every child needs companionship, and so, two years ago, I made my own."
He remembered when Suoh and Akira had first been activated; right away, they had displayed such unique personalities. His programming had been so complete that the only thing the two persocon had in common was their devotion to him. "I designed their programs to build off of their core personalities, so while I know each one of them better than they do, they can still surprise me sometimes. And neither of them is anything like me, either." His tone had turned wistful, he must have appeared much younger to Monou-san as he related his tale.
However, Monou-san seemed distracted by some other aspect entirely. "It sounds wonderful, Imonoyama-san… to have friends who compliment you so well." His expression was guarded. "But it's only because you made them that way, ne?"
Nokoru nodded, happily giving Monou-san more credit for his intelligence than he'd previously doled out. Not that he believed the boy to be stupid, just not analytical. "Exactly; they're my best friends because I told them to be. Deep down, they'll never disagree with me because the heart of a persocon is not friendship but servitude." He glanced down at the desk top, absently fingering a picture of himself and Suoh that one of their devoted fans had taken. Suoh had hated the idea and refused to look at the camera, while Nokoru smiled on and indulged the upperclassman in her fancy. Suoh hated having his picture taken because such little things took time away from important things. Things that were important simply because there was a tiny chip down inside of him that said so.
Everything he had told Monou-san was true and he accepted it, but it was fresh salt on the wound by bringing it out into the open. "And as a human being, I'm going to grow up." Here was the most difficult aspect to talk about, the part that hurt the most. "I'll get taller, my voice will change… everything about me will have matured. Suoh and Akira will stay exactly the same as they are."
He recognized some of the discomfort in his guest's eyes as Monou-san turned those words inward and made them personal. No doubt he was thinking about Kamui, and how those boyish features would seem to him in the coming years. It wasn't something human beings liked to think about, once that had invested so much time, energy and capital into their "companions." And those who had thrown their emotions into the bargain seemed even less willing to think about it. This was one of the reasons why the industry was barred from creating child persocon, though the market for the was there, the sheer psychological toll would be more than the government was willing to bear. Grieving parents who wished to replace their lost child rarely considered having a five-year-old for the rest of their lives, thus negating much of the joy in having children in the first place.
"So," Monou-san ventured. "Why not make them larger bodies?"
Nokoru shook his head. "A temporary fix to a larger problem. I could transfer the data cores into different shells, but there would be things lost in the process." In the end, it all came down to the sheer effort of maintaining a "growing" persocon over the course of a lifetime. Every few years would bring another reminder of how his only friends were little more than plastic, metal and silicone chips.
"But you've thought about it."
"Of course." Nokoru pressed a hand over his eyes, suddenly weary. "When we met, I'd hoped to warn you away from emotional attachment, because you're as good a candidate for my complication as anyone else. Kamui-san is amazingly lifelike, even more so than Suoh and Akira, for all the tweaking I made to the programs." As he lowered his hand, he thought he saw Monou-san looking faintly proud. He sighed and shook his head. "It's going to bring nothing but trouble. You have to look at him like you would your microwave oven, Monou-san. It's valuable and useful and you'd be upset if you lost it." He leaned forward, his tone absolutely serious. "But you could replace it or ultimately live without it. He's a computer, Monou-san."
The pride gave way to conflict, as if the older boy was searching for a way to make his words not apply. But in the end, he couldn't, and gave Nokoru a look that said plainly that he believed him, but might never be able to live that way. "What are you going to do?"
Nokoru paused as his companions retuned from the kitchen, Akira trotted in carrying a tray holding a replenished tea set and two huge pieces of cake. Suoh carried nothing; it seemed his job was to instruct Akira to stop bouncing like a monkey and be more careful. Glancing back at Fuuma, he wondered if his expression was really as hopeless as the other boy's had been. "I really don't know."