This version of her—her voice, her expressions, the way she looked at him and teased him—it was all artificial. A reconstruction of someone he spent five goddamn years trying to piece back together, clawing at old memories, chasing shadows, until he finally accepted the truth. Until he finally gave up.
Then he got wasted over it. Shut that trash heap of feelings into a locked box, stomped it down, and moved the hell on.
So no. There was no umbilical.
Zenkichi let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “And what was the word that you used? Umbilical? Yeah, right. That’d require me to have something that close, that intimate.” He waved a lazy hand through the air like he was brushing the thought aside. “I mean, come on, I am just flesh, an unhuman running on machine parts. What’s next? You gonna tell me to start scrapbooking our special father-daughter moments? Maybe knit us some matching sweaters?”
The smirk tugged at his lips, but it was forced, paper-thin. The kind of joke meant to deflect rather than amuse.
Then, just as quickly, the humor bled out of his face.
He met Hamuko’s gaze head-on, voice quieter, but sharper. “Look. I don’t know if you actually mean well or if you just like seeing me squirm—but if you don’t know the bitter truth, maybe it’s time you started realizing it’s none of your damn business.”
no subject
She died.
This version of her—her voice, her expressions, the way she looked at him and teased him—it was all artificial. A reconstruction of someone he spent five goddamn years trying to piece back together, clawing at old memories, chasing shadows, until he finally accepted the truth. Until he finally gave up.
Then he got wasted over it. Shut that trash heap of feelings into a locked box, stomped it down, and moved the hell on.
So no. There was no umbilical.
Zenkichi let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “And what was the word that you used? Umbilical? Yeah, right. That’d require me to have something that close, that intimate.” He waved a lazy hand through the air like he was brushing the thought aside. “I mean, come on, I am just flesh, an unhuman running on machine parts. What’s next? You gonna tell me to start scrapbooking our special father-daughter moments? Maybe knit us some matching sweaters?”
The smirk tugged at his lips, but it was forced, paper-thin. The kind of joke meant to deflect rather than amuse.
Then, just as quickly, the humor bled out of his face.
He met Hamuko’s gaze head-on, voice quieter, but sharper. “Look. I don’t know if you actually mean well or if you just like seeing me squirm—but if you don’t know the bitter truth, maybe it’s time you started realizing it’s none of your damn business.”