The chapters just keep getting longer... more happening in this chapter than in the last. Less exposition and more action of a sort. Thanks to everyone for being so patient with me while I hammer out chapters of this fic. With Chapter 12, this monster has officially surpassed my original work in number of pages. My tentative "end of April" deadline has come and gone, and there are still maybe four chapters left. I'm shooting for the end of June. Let's see if I can do it. V
Chapter 12 - Kamui Finds a Job (Redux)
Laundry day came around again, as it did every week, and the washing machine was still broken. Even so, the wash had to be done, leaving the Monou family the arduous task of washing everything by hand. Kamui did the job willingly, though Kyougo promised to dig out the manual for the appliance when he came home from a meeting. Kamui hadn't read anything really technical before, so he actually was looking forward to the challenge. Maybe everyone would be a little happier when the washer was repaired. The wood on the balcony below the clothesline glistened in the morning sunshine as the water dripped off the bedding spread out to dry. Kamui pushed damp hair off his face and watched the wind blow the sheets lazily from side to side.
He normally noticed the gloom in the house more than he took note of the happy times. The Monou family was seldom cheerless, so he felt particularly edgy when it was. As often happened, he could not determine the cause. Kyougo seemed worried about repairs, but there was something else. Fuuma became lost in his thoughts easily and sometimes forgot about Kamui altogether. Even Kotori, the most lighthearted member of the family, seemed to be upset about something. She hadn't been volunteering to pick out his clothes lately; in fact, she didn't speak to him much at all anymore. She spent a large amount of time out of the house or in her room, only appearing at mealtimes and just before she and Fuuma left for school.
Kamui had few daily chores, certainly nothing that took up his entire day, so he had time to think about these things.
He could hear the family begin to stir in the house behind him, prompting him to leave the wash to the fall breezes and start on breakfast. Kyougo greeted him as he came into the kitchen, reading his newspaper and sipping from a cup of tea. The Monou children enjoyed having someone around who would cook and clean for them, but Kyougo always gently insisted on doing certain things himself. He and Kamui often spent the early morning together in a companionable silence. Once in a while, Kyougo would tell him about something going on in the news, or an event that would be happening at the shrine. The man would make sure to explain carefully so that Kamui could understand. They had been doing it for so long now, he rarely had to.
Kamui set the rice on to boil, listening to the sound of pages turning.
"Ah, Kamui-kun," Kyougo spoke up after a moment, bringing the persocon's attention around to him. He glanced up with a smile. "There's an ad in the paper for work at a florist nearby."
Kamui tilted his head to the side. "Florist?"
Kyougo nodded. "Someone who sells flowers." He explained, pausing to sip his tea. "I think you would enjoy a job like that."
"As long as they keep him away from the sharp stuff," Fuuma commented as he came into the kitchen, giving Kamui a little smile to let him know he was kidding. Sarcasm was something humans seemed to love to use. Kamui thought back on his first encounter with it with a healthy dose of chagrin. It had taken Fuuma and Arisugawa-san the better part of an hour explaining before the concept made any sense.
This morning, however, Kamui merely grinned and continued fixing breakfast. If Fuuma thought the job was a good idea, then he would probably wind up applying for it. Kamui was perfectly happy letting Fuuma make the choices for him, considering the last time he'd done it, it ended in a very peculiar night.
"Kamui-kun would have to go a little ways downtown," Kyougo told his son. "But the wage seems good and it wouldn't be very complicated work."
Fuuma plopped down into one of the chairs, tapping his fingers on the table as he considered it. "Well, so long as it doesn't say 'no persocon,' we could probably go take a look today." He glanced over at Kamui. "What do you think?"
Kamui nodded and set a tray down in front of Kyougo, then Fuuma. "Kamui likes flowers."
After the breakfast dishes had been done and the kitchen cleaned up, Fuuma had ushered him upstairs to get dressed, patiently directing Kamui towards one of the nicer outfits Tokiko had given him. He smiled, thinking about the kind woman who had helped him so much. As he buttoned up his shirt, he caught Fuuma looking at him out of the corner of his eye. However, when he turned to ask what his owner was thinking, Fuuma glanced away and stared off into space.
"Ne," Fuuma said after a time. "You still really want to do this?" He asked, his gaze slowly coming back toward Kamui. "Getting a job, I mean."
Kamui hopped from one foot to another, trying to put on his socks without having to sit down. "Kamui wants job," he said with quite a bit of resolve. "Want help to Fuuma."
The other looked at him quietly for a minute, something akin to worry in his eyes before shrugging and covering it all up with a smile. "Suits me then," he said brightly, rising to his feet. "Let's go see what we can get for you."
They walked to the flower shop, Kamui watching everything intensely so he would remember the directions in case he had to come back. He watched the people as they walked by. He had determined that there were three types of humans, when it came to persocon. One group ignored him completely, as one would ignore a single tree in a forest or a piece of furniture. These people would talk to Fuuma and not him and they usually had persocon of their own.
The second type had never seen a persocon before and stared openly at him, pointing and shouting things or whispering to the people next to them to keep Kamui from hearing. These people were funny, but Fuuma thought they were kind of annoying. When these people came around, Fuuma did his best to move them out of view or into a taxi cab.
The third type of person was somewhere in between. They knew about persocon and didn't find them particularly unique, unless they were cute or attractive. Men usually stared; women squealed and came over to talk to both owner and machine. Kamui liked these women; Fuuma usually turned a little pink and tried to drag him away very quickly.
They encountered mostly the first and third types of people on their way to the flower shop and thus arrived very quickly. The shop was tiny, sandwiched in between two buildings. Glass windows lined the front, letting Kamui see that the inside was bursting with plants and flowers of all sizes and colors. A simple sign above the door read "Earth's Gifts." The door made a jingling sound as they came in, alerting the lone shopkeeper to their presence.
"Good morning," he called gaily from the back, stepping out from behind a bush of pretty red flowers. Kamui liked him instantly. He was tall and broad, with muscles that hinted at a previous occupation that hadn't involved flowers. His dark hair was cut short and his skin was very tan – undoubtedly from working out in the sun. His eyes, dark like his hair, smiled brightly and took attention away from the thin scar he had running down one cheek.
Fuuma seemed to like him as well. "Good morning," he replied. "We're here about the ad in the newspaper."
The man glanced from Fuuma to Kamui as if sizing them up. He rested a dirt-covered hand on one hip. "Well, I only need one helper," he said. "But if you really want to work together, I could probably scrounge up something."
Laughing, Fuuma shook his head. "Good thing it's just Kamui who needs a job, then." He gestured toward his persocon. "Do you think he'd be okay, working here?"
The man's eyes widened a little as he looked Kamui over with a little more scrutiny. "Well…" he thought aloud, rubbing his chin with a clean hand. "He'll definitely attract customers with a face like that." He looked a moment longer and nodded firmly, bending down to talk directly to Kamui. "What's your name, kid?"
"Kamui," he said softly, a little shy when the attention was directly on him.
The man patted him on the shoulder and straightened up. "Nice to meet you, Kamui-kun." He directed a finger at himself. "Name's Kusanagi Shiyu." He winked. "Welcome aboard."
---
They had pounded on the door when they'd finally arrived. She'd taken her time answering the door, as if to make their rudeness apparent even to them. She had expected them, naturally. After the incident a week ago, it had only been a matter of time.
Some of them bristled with importance, waving their guns and their job titles around as if they really were something special. She knew for certain that they wouldn't be allowed to kill her and so failed to be intimidated. A few of the more seasoned agents recognized her for reasons other than the dossier they'd certainly been given and had treated her with a measure of respect.
They'd murmured apologies for their intrusion as they'd cuffed her hands and lead her down the stairs and apologized again as they guided her into the unmarked car.
---
The house seemed quieter, now that Kamui worked four days out of the week. The little persocon still managed to complete all his chores, though sometimes it led him to be up very late or very early in the morning. He still had their lunches ready along with breakfast, but now the family meals were peppered with stories of his own. Kamui loved to talk about his job, and would to anyone who would listen. By default, Fuuma received an earful night after night. He didn't mind, really. Kamui had nothing negative to say about the work, and the stories were mostly about what the persocon had learned during that shift.
The most amusing stories came about unintentionally, when Kamui would need Fuuma to explain something one of the customers had done. News of his employment had spread quickly among the girls in the neighborhood, who proceeded to mob the shop day in and day out to talk to the endearing new facet of their lives. As expected, Kamui didn't understand some of the attention. From what Fuuma could gather, he never troubled his boss with the questions, reserving all of his curiosity for his owner.
Fuuma glanced up from his homework when he heard the downstairs door slide open, a cheerful voice announcing Kamui's arrival. Sometimes he went to pick up Kamui from work, though most of the time he was busy with his own schedule and came home hours before the other. He decided that the distance was good; it kept him from spending too much time around his persocon. He looked back sheepishly on Nokoru's advice from time to time, each time reflecting how completely he had ignored it. He wasn't sure just why he'd managed to be the only member of his family who didn't think of Kamui as an expendable luxury, but he had. The only reason that made sense was that his senses had been worn away by overexposure.
Giving Kamui a little more independence had been worrisome at first, given how the last attempt had fared, but had been proving to be one of the best decisions he'd made concerning the persocon. Knowing he wouldn't get any more work done while Kamui tried to tell him about his day, Fuuma closed his book as light footsteps bounded up the stairs. The homework was safely stowed away by the time Kamui burst into the room, his grin enough to light up the room.
Of course, he may have lost touch with his rational thought processes simply because Kamui was adorable.
"Look!" Kamui held a small envelope out in front of Fuuma's face, barely restraining himself from jumping up and down. "Kusanagi-san gave to Kamui."
Reaching up to still the happily fluttering hands, he plucked the envelope out and held it before him. The name on the envelope read Monou Kamui, a fact that made a strange feeling prickle in Fuuma's stomach, though he wouldn't have been able to explain why or what it was. Inside was an impressive fold of bills that drove home just how much and how hard his persocon had been working. Kamui's first paycheck was more than his had been, actually. He looked up at that brilliantly happy face and smiled back. "Congratulations, Kamui."
If Kamui could have looked any happier than he was that moment, he managed it a second later. "For Fuuma," he said cheerfully. "To help."
Fuuma glanced down at the money and idly thumbed through it, the prickly feeling getting stronger as a thread of guilt managed to sew itself in. Sliding the bills back into the envelope and closing it up, he handed it back to the persocon. "This is your money," he said carefully as he met Kamui's widening eyes. "You keep it, okay?" In a roundabout way, Kamui buying things he needed or wanted himself would lessen Fuuma's financial burden. Given the persocon's selfless nature, he would probably wind up buying supplies for the family anyway, since Fuuma really couldn't think of much the other had given any hint of desiring for himself.
Kamui turned the envelope over in his hands several times, perhaps trying to puzzle out Fuuma's reasoning for returning the money he had so ardently intended to give. "Kamui have…?"
The confusion on the other's face was enough to make Fuuma smile. "You earned it all by yourself," he explained, reaching up to brush some hair out of the persocon's eyes so Kamui could look at him. "I'd much rather see you hang onto it."
Fuuma hadn't thought it possible for a persocon to blush, but Kamui did just then. His normally porcelain skin colored faintly pink as perfect teeth worried his lip. Then Kamui nodded suddenly, as if satisfying himself with an explanation, his mouth breaking into a shy smile. "Thank you." The voice was little more than a whisper, and then the other was darting out from under his gaze, scurrying back to the plastic bag he'd dropped on the way in. Kamui held onto his envelope tightly as he produced a slim package wrapped in brown paper, along with an unwrapped book. Inwardly, Fuuma laughed; it seemed Kamui had found something he'd wanted after all.
He held out his hands as Kamui offered him the wrapped package, gently pulling off the tape and revealing whatever it was the little persocon had thought he would like. Kamui hovered nervously as he took his time, tugging on the lock of hair Fuuma had tucked behind his ear. He nearly fell off the bed when he saw that Kamui's gift consisted of three or four magazines with scantily clad women on the covers. He felt his face turn an uncomfortable shade of red and his answering chuckle sounded pathetic and weak at best. "Ah… thanks, Kamui," he managed as he set the magazines aside; maybe he'd look at them later.
Coughing into his fist, he glanced up to the persocon, who seemed completely oblivious to the discomfort he'd caused. Instead, he appeared as happy as a clam. "What did you get for yourself?" He gestured to Kamui's book, and the persocon held it out for his inspection. The blue, hardback book looked like a continuation of the book he'd bought for Kamui weeks and weeks ago. This one was called "My Only Person." Strange topic for a kid's book, he thought. The long-eared rabbit-creature from the first book made a return appearance on the cover of this volume. A quick look up at Kamui told him that the persocon was itching to read it, as he kept opening the cover just a tiny bit between his fingers.
Oh well, so long as Kamui was happy, he could read whatever he wanted. A voice from downstairs accompanied Kamui's sudden snap to attention, as if he'd just remembered something. "Ah, time to make the dinner," he announced. He gazed longingly at the book as he set it on the bed, but did not linger much longer than that before turning to hustle downstairs to conform to the daily schedule. With a slight smile, Fuuma got to his feet and followed.
---
"Any luck, Kaichou?" Nokoru nearly jumped out of his chair as Akira's voice broke into his intense scrutiny of the computer monitor. The black-haired persocon blinked huge grey eyes at him as the human boy clutched at his shirt in an attempt to make sure that his heart had not stopped beating from the shock. Suoh never snuck up on him like that, only Akira. The "younger" of his two companions was always on hand, though he contributed less to most conversations than Suoh and regrettably, he was sometimes forgotten in the excitement of late. If Akira minded, however, he never showed feelings to give the thoughts away.
Nokoru rubbed his forehead irritably. That was, of course, Akira's way. The persocon would never be upset with him, though he was regularly upset for him, because it simply was not in his programming. Suoh was his bodyguard in addition to his taskmaster, and an uncharitable person could dub Akira as his nursemaid. He hadn't exactly planned for it to be that way, but he should have realized that that was how the arrangement would be. It all came back to the programs.
And those programs had been almost constantly on his mind since his conversation with Monou-san more than a week ago. Though he would never show anyone, that fact had begun to grate at him. Typically, he could go for days at a time without acknowledging his companions' less-than-human qualities, using willful ignorance to chalk up their tendencies to read his thoughts and his desires to the fact that they were never apart. Then something would remind him of their situation and he would allow himself a modicum of angst, which he would promptly squelch and allow himself to forget again.
Creating Suoh and Akira had to be his most brilliant idea, but it was undoubtedly the stupidest thing he had ever done.
Not that he regretted bringing either into his life. Pushing back the frustration, he smiled warmly at Akira, who still waited patiently for an answer. "None as of yet, I'm afraid."
In another spell of forcing himself to ignore the facts of his situation, he had convinced himself that his irritation of late was due to his inability to locate the only person who might give him some answers, Magami Tokiko. As of a week and a half ago, said woman simply ceased to exist. The school where she worked reported that she had taken a sabbatical and had left no contact information. The apartment leased in her name was empty, and her belongings had vanished. The ward office where she was registered claimed to have no records of her living in the area. After a thorough hacking of the system, he had confirmed that they hadn't been lying.
It was enough to make him want to resort to childish fits of temper.
He had requested his mother's permission to access the vast Imonoyama records; he believed his answer to be somewhere inside the network, but he respected his family enough to not simply break through the security and look on his own. For all his intellectual prowess, there were those in his family who were, to his sometime dismay, smarter than he. If he got in and out with the information, it would only be a matter of time before he was caught.
Besides, an Imonoyama was patient. To show any outward anxiety would get him absolutely nowhere.
Akira frowned sympathetically. "Please tell me if there's anything I can do, Kaichou." The earnestness in his voice made Nokoru's smile turn bittersweet.
"Of course, Akira," he soothed, watching the shadows melt away from his companion's face. "I suspect I'll need your help very soon." He winked, picking up his fan to lend a conspiratorial air to his words. "Someone has to distract Suoh."
The black-haired persocon broke up into a fit of giggles, and Nokoru smiled. "I'll do anything you need me to, Kaichou," he promised.
Grow up with me.
"I have no doubt you will."
---
Despite his internal clock, which never failed to tell him the correct time down to the smallest degree, dinner had seemed to take forever. Kamui had found himself to be totally uninterested in the conversation that took place around him. His replies to questions had been half hearted as his mind wandered back to the book on Fuuma's bed. The book he'd bought with his own money. He wanted to read it.
Fuuma must have sensed his impatience, as he volunteered to do the dishes this once. Had Kamui known how, he would have kissed his owner out of gratitude. As it was, he'd given him a hug that had made the older boy blush and eventually shoo him away. He'd bounded up the stairs and currently stood in the doorway to Fuuma's bedroom. He closed the door carefully behind him – Kyougo hated the sound of slamming doors – and made his way over to the book.
Kamui hummed softly as he settled himself down on the floor, his back pressed up against the comforter as he leaned the book up against his knees. The happy little melody continued as he turned the pages. The story seemed to continue from the first book, and the rabbit-type-thing wandered from town to town, looking for its "only person." Kamui found himself feeling sorry for it, thinking that it didn't deserve such isolation and loneliness.
"…like us…"
He turned a page, the humming drifting off into silence as the book before him vanished. The room came next, fading away into a blank black space that felt somehow familiar.
"I've been waiting for you, Kamui."
His suddenly empty hands dropped to his sides as he climbed to his feet, turning to face the reflection at his back. Here, he remembered. His other self sauntered across the distance, the long hem of his cloak billowing around him in an unseen wind. As it parted, he could see the glint of silver and red thread forming some kind of pattern on the vest he wore. The hand that reached for him was covered in a kind of fingerless glove that reached up to his upper arm.
When he reached to take it, he found his own arm was sheathed in the exact costume, though in a brilliant white. Red, black and silver were mirrored in violet, white and gold down to the smallest detail. His reflection's fingers were cold as they wrapped around his. He didn't resist when the other pulled him forward, closing his other arm around him and holding him close.
He remembered being afraid of this person, whose protective fury had nearly scared him witless. He wasn't scared now.
"Why would you be?" /Kamui/ whispered into his hair. "I'm the only one who can protect us."
Fuuma…
The other's grip on his shoulders tightened, anger and something akin to fear flickering in the midnight violet that matched his own. "He can't," his reflection insisted. "He's like all the others, you'll see."
No.
/Kamui's/ laugh seemed choked with a sad sort of resignation as he shifted, clasping Kamui's face in one chilled hand. His expression seemed desperate when he finally pulled away. Kamui lifted his free hand to his lips, which felt as if they'd been numbed through by the other's fierce kiss. His tongue too, had been frozen into silence when he most wanted to speak. Everything about his reflection was like ice, and it hurt.
"Everyone leaves us."
---
Autumn did nothing to still the waves of heat that radiated from the very ground beneath the city. Electricity thrummed through every corner of the pavement; it passed by every tree root and infused its presence into the bark and branches, until even petals and blades of grass seemed to glow with excess energy.
Near the top of Tokyo Tower, the breeze hummed with artificial warmth. It tugged at the two figures that stood on a steel girder, pushing black against white and back. The slighter of the two let it press him against the taller, which was immovable against the whining wind that wanted so badly for him to shift. All the taller did was chuckle softly.
The smaller figure, a slender male model, let his eyes flutter open as he lowered his hands. He reached into his pocket for a pair of black gloves, slipping them on without a word to his companion, who seemed in no hurry to press him for answers. Such was the way it had always been between them.
Such was how it would ever be, and the smaller spoke first. "His signal has disappeared."
Another chuckle, dark and velvet. The voice which followed had the impression of silk dragged over sandpaper. "How unfortunate." A pause. "Did you manage a trace?"
The smaller gazed out over the vastness of the city and minutely shook his head. In contrast to the other's bearing, he seemed to be on constant watch for something. And he was, given that the information from millions of minds kept up an endless stream into his system. He'd been everywhere on earth, without having to leave this city. His city. Their city, this Tokyo.
"He's getting more powerful."
A faint touch stirred his hair, opposite from where the wind sought to take it. "Perhaps we should split up and search for him?"
Closing his eyes, the smaller of the two put a little more weight against the taller, who had spoken with a tone that sounded so disinterested in the idea as to not mean a word he'd said. "I don't think we'll have to," he replied.
"We're closer this time, Seishirou-san. It's only a matter of time before we find him."
---
I'm sure some of you have been waiting for these two to show up, ne? Lots of fangirly moments in this chapter, hee. Not to mention Kusanagi, yay! I will find a way to include Keiichi, dammit.
Hope you liked this chapter, and if you did, don't hesitate to review! :D