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... ... ... ... ?

What is...?

I shouldn't... be awake...

[In the Velvet Room...]

[It's courteous of whatever's going on with Igor's plan here that Hamuko is dressed. She probably shouldn't even have a body... whatever she has going on now... did her body fall comatose without her? Did it die? If it was alive, she surely should be much older. ... ... ... Maybe that all doesn't really matter, right now. She's here, gifted a chance to be around others again. The pinboard catches her attention first, of course. Signs of other people... so many little notes, talking about multiple versions of the same person running around. That's... that's charming... that's fun. ...Even if the notes about Ken Amadas make her sad...]

Hmm... I don't see any other 'me' off the bat...

[She'll take a few minutes once given a pen and some pink paper to doodle a little version of herself, signed with her name and phone number, and add it to the corner of the pinboard.]

[Inaba, Central Shopping District]

[What a fun little town! A charming place... hey, isn't this the town she went to for the volleyball camp? She loved the accommodations, but it's so nice to actually wander the streets and see the little shops. This place is SO rural, Hamuko had never really visited a place this remote, even when jumping between foster homes.] Let's see... what's the good spot for the locals? [No point being a complete tourist shmuck!!]

[Shibuya, Underground Mall]

[Well, since nothing costs anything here... might as well get some cute new clothes, right? Who knows how long she'll be around here, and 'dreaming up' new outfits didn't seem to be a thing. No lucid dreaming here - somehow, Hamuko felt a lot happier with that in mind. Still... the fashion is so different!!]

I just want one cute orange top...!! Is orange out of style? Dang it...

[Iwatodai Dorms]

[Of all of the places she's been having fun goofing off and exploring in, the dorms... she couldn't quite get the courage to open the front. Not just yet.]

Not even Koromaru is out front right now. ...I've gotta apologize...

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Zenkichi exhaled sharply through his nose. The fact that Hamuko didn’t budge, that she didn’t recoil or backpedal the way he’d been hoping, only set his teeth further on edge. That impenetrable, infuriating understanding—like she was seeing something in him he had no interest in acknowledging—only made the irritation twist deeper.

And yet, it was that one line that caught, that dug in harder than the rest.

"Even if you and Akane aren't human, you are still people."

His jaw tightened.

To Zenkichi, him being an Unhuman was both a release and a punishment. A release, because it meant he no longer had to carry the burdens of a man who had failed—who had lost his wife, who had left his daughter in the hands of a corrupt system, who had sold his soul to a cause that had chewed him up and spat him out. And a punishment, because it meant he would never again be worthy of the things that once made him human. He had been a man who couldn’t even take care of his own family. Who had broken every promise he had ever made to the people he loved. And so, he was something else now.

Not a person.

Not a man.

Just a weapon.

And Hamuko—this girl, this impossibly naïve girl—wanted to tell him otherwise?

He let out a laugh, low and sharp and humorless. Not malicious, no—but something bastardly about it nonetheless.

"You're delusional," he told her flatly, shaking his head with something that might’ve been amusement if it weren’t so bitter.

He wasn't angry anymore, not exactly. Just... tired.

"I won't speak for Akane," he continued, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "But you're gonna be real disappointed when you realize I don't follow through with your little hopeful narrative. Really, it's just gonna be embarrassing for you at this point. Save yourself the trouble, yeah?"

His smirk was razor-thin. "Or don't. I won't stop you from setting yourself up for failure."

Hamuko just... smiles at him. Calm and composed, because she has faced this level of disrespect and ridicule and worse. Because she wasn't afraid of him, or of being judged.

All of her time in the Velvet Room before was circled around one thing: making connections with other people, to empower herself through the archetypes of the Tarot. To make herself stronger. To make it possible to save her friends.

I can see why Igor has brought you here.

She doesn't say it. She doesn't need to say it.

"I can already tell... Akane-chan and I will be good friends. Don't worry. I won't let anything horrible happen to her so long as she's with me," she promised sincerely, instead.

Zenkichi couldn’t meet her eyes.

He wanted to believe it was mocking, that she was smirking at him the way someone might when they were watching a particularly stubborn animal refuse to walk through an open door. That it was judgment—pity—some holier-than-thou expression that said I know you better than you do.

But it wasn’t.

Hamuko just… smiled.

Calm, unshaken, like she wasn’t humoring him, wasn’t trying to force an argument, wasn’t even trying to win. She was just there. Unmoved, unwavering. And for some reason, that made it worse.

So he looked away.

“…I don’t have a say in the matter,” he muttered as his gaze drifted elsewhere—anywhere but at her before focusing on the board. “Akane likes you. I can tell.”

It wasn’t something he could control. Akane was sharp, cautious, and generally didn’t take to people easily past a professional standpoint, but when she did—when she made a choice—she meant it. And she had chosen Hamuko.

Zenkichi let out a quiet sigh. That was that, then. "I uh, gotta recalibrate my systems so-"

Leave me alone, he didn't say but really from the way he even avoided looking at her as he kept looking at the interesting or intricate details that were added to the board instead.

Meanwhile, Akane sat cross-legged on the couch, the last of her pink paper now folded into something intricate. A bow—dainty, delicate, crafted with the kind of precision only an AI could manage. She had overclocked her processing just to see it from all angles, to understand it fully before attempting it herself. And now, it was done.

But the bow had been the easy part.

The paper in front of her was still blank.

The pen in her hand felt awkward—too slow, too imprecise compared to the ease of digital input. But it wasn’t just that. She struggled to write something meaningful. Some kind of introduction for her and Zenkichi to this place, something that felt right, that wasn’t just raw data arranged in neat sentences and hell even holding the pen within fingers she wasn't used to was...telling of just how difficult it was to even encompass a body.

She tapped the pen against her chin, frowning.

The words just wouldn’t come.

Hamuko simply watched as Zenkichi shirked back, a little amused. She didn't judge him for it - the more they talked, she's sure he'd get used to her.

For now, though, Hamuko crossed over to where Akane was perched and picked up the paper bow. "Oh, this is SO cute..." she gushed fondly, before spotting the hat.

Ohohoho. It's her turn to follow an impulse. Swiping the hat, Hamuko stuck her tongue out in thought as she carefully twisted and folded fabric and paper, getting the bow nicely affixed to the hat before putting it on herself. "Heehee. How do I look?"

Akane visibly brightened as Hamuko made her way over, the shift in her demeanor subtle but undeniable. The Velvet Room’s quiet, eerie tranquility—a space where time and reality bent in ways no human mind could truly grasp—was suddenly filled with something far more tangible. A warmth. A presence.

It was almost funny, really, the contrast of their little exchange against the backdrop of this impossible place. The faint, wordless singing of a woman’s voice drifted through the air like an ever-present lullaby, and here they were, giggling over a folded piece of paper.

Akane straightened slightly as Hamuko picked up the bow, preening at the compliment. She practically beamed under her mask, not that it was visible. “Right? I wanted to lean into something more creative and cute, so I looked up a tutorial online and—”

She stopped.

Her head tilted as she watched Hamuko fiddle with… something. “Wait, what are you—?”

Hamuko hummed thoughtfully, sticking her tongue out which made Akane lean forward, intrigued, her processing units kicking into high gear trying to predict the end result—until Hamuko finally spun around to reveal the finished product.

Zenkichi’s hat, now adorned with the dainty pink bow, sitting proudly on her head.

Akane stared. Then she let out a full, delighted giggle, her voice light and airy in a way it so rarely was. “That hat is so big for you-!” she snickered, leaning forward on her hands. Honestly it wasn’t just a giggle—it was the kind of snorting, delighted amusement that was way too fun for what had just happened.

She swung her legs over the couch, kicking them idly as she grinned wide under her mask. “But honestly? Kinda into the vibe. Kinda looks like a genuine fashion piece. Wolf over here is always rocking the tragic noir detective look, so this? This adds some flair. Some personality. Some much-needed drip.”

Her glowing eyes zeroed in on Hamuko’s face—or at least, what little of it was visible under the absurdly large brim.

“But hold up, real question,” she said, voice laced with mischief. “Can you actually see anything past the whole big beak now that you are looking down? Or are you just guessing where I am right now?”

"Hmmm... I can see, there's just this shape right in the middle... I feel like Igor," Hamuko giggled, before stepping back to make dramatic poses, extremely exaggerated angsty action guy poses, using finger guns in lieu of a real gun to pose and all.

"I just...! Need.... a trench coat."

He had only meant to check the board for a moment. Just a glance, a quick scan to see what had changed, maybe distract himself from the whole ordeal this place brought before asking Akane if she was ready to leave just yet but then he heard it.

Laughter.

Not just a chuckle. Not the polite, restrained kind she’d learned to use to brush people off. No, this was real laughter. Unrestrained, snorting, teasing amusement spilling freely from Akane’s voice, her whole body shaking with it as she kicked her legs over the couch like any other teenager caught up in something stupid and fun.

Stupid and fun.

He turned. He couldn't help it.

There they were—Hamuko, still striking dramatic action hero poses in his hat, making exaggerated finger guns while Akane egged her on with pure delight. It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. His old, beaten-down hat swallowed her head, the pink bow still fixed onto it like the universe’s worst fashion statement.

And Zenkichi…?

He felt his lips twitch before he could stop himself.

“Comparing my hat to Igor? That’s a new one,” he muttered- managing to keep his voice gruff.

Because damn it. Damn it.

He had missed this. He had missed hearing her laugh so, so much. Even back when she was alive, it had been rare. It had been stolen away by grief, by the silence that took over the house when a room had started to collect dust, by the anger that had taken root in her heart when he wasn’t there.

And now—now she was laughing in a place that didn’t even exist, in a body that wasn’t hers anymore, surrounded by strangers, and—

A sharp ping jolted through his head.

DETECTING COGNITIVE ANAMOLIES SYSTEMS UNSTABLE...

His scanner buzzed, recalibration prompts firing in the corner of his vision. Right. Right. He exhaled sharply through his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a fraction of a second. He knew what it was. His own nostalgia was setting off the damn alarms. His mind didn’t want him to dwell, didn’t want him to spiral, because there was nothing good at the end of that road.

Been a while since he got that alert too...

He ignored the warning, a familiar viper coiling within him as his eyes flickered to a familiar set of command messages floating in the corner of his eye.

Hey Wolf. Talk to me. Something happened, I know it did. I probably missed the conversation with me overclocking. You should attend to the warning, you know?

No system response, no status update, no return ping. Just nothing.

For a split second, she flicked her gaze back to him.

She turned back to Hamuko instead, rolling with the conversation like she hadn’t noticed.

“He does have a trench coat, y’know,” she mused, gesturing toward Zenkichi without actually looking at him. “A big, dramatic one. It’s very badass.” Her voice was teasing, but there was an edge of truth to it—because for all the jokes she made at his expense, she did think it suited him.

Then, shifting the conversation further, she plucked the last of her unused pink paper and held it out to Hamuko.

“I dunno what to write,” she admitted, a bit sheepish. “I figured I’d just slap on a QR code, y’know, with a small explanation of our unit. But, uh.” She twirled the paper between her fingers before handing it over. “If you wanna add something, go for it. Maybe something witty to make up for how boring mine’s probably gonna sound.”

She pretended that it didn't sting a little and made up for it with casual words.

Oblivious to the unspoken communication between the two, Hamuko laughed, bright and jovial. Laughed loudly, happily, freely - in a way that felt like it'd been far too long since she had a chance to.

...Even the months of being sort of... awake... waiting for Graduation Day weren't like this. She'd been so tired, so sick, every single day. For the entirety of December, everyone had been scared witless, trying to decide how they wanted to die. For November, they were aimless, confused.

Right now, she felt... relieved. Alive.

She'd never be able to thank Igor enough.

"Oh!! Oh, oh, if you do a QR code, you should make it link to a web page that is SO over the top! Something cute with pinks and explosion gifs and everything! Something that gets both of your personalities!" Hamuko suggested with a bubbling laugh. "Man! Maybe I should get a trench coat! Something in a shocking color, though, like red or orange! Then I'll really look like the kind of girl that can bust your kneecaps in the back alleys of Port Island Station."

Akane could only stare at her bright self. Hamuko was shining like a star there, laughing and alive in a way no one who has passed away would be. She herself stood at the precipice of unknown after all, guaging her circumstances and the soul that was attached to her. She had barely any memory of her. She didn't even know what her name was except-

She had a heart.

She would like to think its similar to Hamuko.

"...a whole webpage?!" Akane's eyes widen at the idea. She could code something like that in mere seconds honestly but the idea of it was definitely unique. “Oh—oh, I could add one of those alpha wolf memes! You know, the ones with the dramatic lighting and all-caps fonts about strength and dominance.” Her voice took on a faux-serious tone as she continued, “Really lean into the brooding aesthetic. Maybe throw in some unnecessary static effects—make it look like it’s hacking your screen when you open it.”

She was already lost in the concept, muttering about UI elements and whether a black-and-red color scheme was too dramatic, completely unaware that Hamuko was still talking.

Until she caught up.

Her head snapped up, taken aback by mild confusion. “Wait.” She tilted her head, processing. “You… bust kneecaps?”

Zenkichi, who had been quietly watching this whole exchange, took exactly two seconds before exhaling deeply."She's not going to teach you how to bust kneecaps, Akane."

"Oh come on!" She swiftly turns over, one hand on the side of the couch. "Did she tell you that?"

"No," Wolf simply grinned. "I decided it."

Akane's gaze narrowed down on him.

"Okay but maybe, hypothetically,” she asked, eyes glowing with intrigue as Zenkichi's grin fell into mild exasperation, “do you have, like… an established technique for this? Or is it more of a freestyle kind of thing?”

"Okay, to be fair, I've never actually broken anything on a human besides a nose! But he was being a creep and grabbed at me, so I headbutted him hard enough to break his nose and give myself a concussion," Hamuko brightly laughed. That'd been a little bit of a ruckus in middle school, oops.

"He totally deserved it. Don't ever let boys think they can just grab you, Akane-chan. Not even if you're quiet and meek like I was back then."

Hamuko flashed Wolf a smile - he was a cop, former cop, whatever, he was probably well aware what girls had to go through.

"And, well... if you want to skip scrambling your skull a little, a long pole or handle works great - anything to max out your leverage. That's why I use a naginata - wait, actually, I should ask Igor-san if he can retrieve the other equipment I had last."

At Hamuko’s explanation, Zenkichi’s brow lifted—impressed despite himself. While the mental image of a middle-schooler headbutting a creep into next week was a little alarming, he wasn’t going to lie—he respected it. He did deserve it.

And if she’d busted his kneecaps? Yeah, no tears would’ve been shed either way.

When Hamuko flashed him a grin, he gave her one of his own, equal parts proud and rueful. “I approve of that life lesson. Though…” His grin softened into something more earnest. “I’d like to think you won’t have to worry about those circumstances here.”

He and Akane shared a glance, and even though their visors were opaque—hiding everything—their understanding was clear.

“Heh,” Zenkichi muttered under his breath. “Cosette would give ‘em all hell to pay.”

Akane straightened at that, a quiet pride thrumming in her. Cosette(??)—a persona she crafted with her own hands, her true self. That was who she wanted to be when she protected Wolf and if he believed she was strong… well, maybe she could be.

Hamuko continued, speaking about her naginata, and Akane leaned forward intently. She nodded along, absorbing every word. “Maxing out leverage, huh? Makes sense. That thing’s not just dramatic—it’s got reach.” She filed that away, determined to show off for real next time.

Then—without a word—she reached into her belt and pulled out a small knife.

No. Not just a knife.

It was a dagger—thick and rugged, its worn handle wrapped in cracked leather like it had been carried through an apocalyptic wasteland. The blade gleamed under the Velvet Room’s eerie light, chipped in places but still sharp as hell.

“I’ve got a trick with this,” Akane said, holding it up with a grin that could’ve been described as mildly unhinged. “But for now, I really wanna see your naginata. I love a good polearm. Fun fact—they were originally used by women in Japan to defend their homes while the men were off at war.” She twirled the dagger between her fingers with effortless precision. “You could say it’s got girlboss history."

Zenkichi exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms. “Why am I not surprised you know that?”

“Why are you not surprised I’m holding a knife?” Akane shot back, deadpan.

“That I’m trying not to think about.”

"Honestly? You ask me, and knives are great - you can hide 'em in your purse!" Hamuko laughed jovially. She didn't know 'girlboss', as a term, but it did pretty much speak for itself. Heheh. Akane was full of all kinds of trendy new terms she'd have to catch up on.

"Okay, give me a second - Igor gave me my evoker, but lemme see if I can get my other equipment!"

She'll go to Igor - politely sitting on the chair in front of him, hands in her lap. After a few moments of quiet chatter, Igor sounding relaxed and mysterious as ever, and a little sheepish giggle and whisper from Hamuko while she shoveled other things into a bag, she brought over the naginata she'd last been relying on.

"Here we are! This is the naginata I got after fusing my Persona, Kartikeya, into it. The peacock feathers are such a nice touch, super show-off-y, but they never ever got messed up no matter how many Shadows I swung this thing at."

“Inventory space is a weird one for me,” Akane admitted, her voice deadpan but serious. “You’d think it’d be easy for me as a digital entity, but no. I’ll keep your advice in mind, though."

Zenkichi watched her quietly from the sidelines. His gaze lingered a little longer on the hat perched on her head—still my hat, he thought wryly—but his expression sobered as he turned to Hamuko. The way she joined Igor’s space so lighthearted struck a chord in him.

When Akane’s voice piped in through his neural server again, he bristled slightly.

Akane: You doing okay? Wolf: I'm fine. Akane: ... Akane: It’s weird seeing someone so…bright around Igor. Most of the people I’ve seen here feel like prisoners. Wolf: Maybe having your life revived after a...destined passing changes your outlook. Maybe she’s just grateful.

Was he...grateful?

He didn’t say who he was thinking of, but Akane knew.

Akane: I wonder who the spirit attached to my CCAI would’ve been. Maybe I’m living through her.

That quieted Zenkichi. He finally stepped away from the board he had been pretending to focus on, moving just a little closer to Igor’s table—but watching, not approaching.

Meanwhile, Akane lit up at Hamuko’s mention of Kartikeya. “Wait—Kartikeya?” Her AI systems raced as she searched for the Persona in her internal database. “I can’t even match that one. Maybe it predates our year, huh?"

"Huh.”

Curiosity thoroughly piqued, she reached out with her free hand, fingertips brushing the edge of one peacock feather before she froze and pulled back, flustered.

“Um—can I…hold it?”

"Of course! Here, stand over there where there's a little more space, you can even give it a few swings. It's fun!" Hamuko cheerfully passed the weapon over. It was deceptively light, thrumming with power - it really was powered mostly by the Persona fused within it.

"Kartikeya is one of the Personas of the Star Arcana. A pretty strong one! His spear is from myth, too, so I guess it makes perfect sense that he would embody his weapon when fused to one. Metaphorically speaking? Or metaphysically? I can't really tell!" Hamuko laughed jovially.

"Maybe I'll see what the antiques lady knew about this. If the version of her around here can remember that, I mean."

"Kartikeya...the Hindu God of War," Akane nods slowly as she logs in the persona's detail. "It sure fits the bill of the Star Arcana."

Even still, she was a bit nervous as she holds out her hands before grasping the Naginata in her pale bare hands. She turned the weapon over, a little awe-struck. But holding it was another story entirely.

Despite its lightness, the weight distribution threw her off, and she wobbled for a second as her systems scrambled to compensate. Her joints tensed as internal calibration kicked in—what was muscle memory for a human came with a million calculations for someone like her.

“From what I’m reading right now,” Akane mused aloud, scanning through data in real time, “his origins involve fusing six fetuses into one body through Parvati’s Tantric powers, so… I guess fusion is in his nature. Maybe even into weapons.” It was an easy observation but rooted in the odd rules of cognition that human belief shaped.

Akane cautiously twirled the naginata in her hands, the blade spinning like a lazy windmill. She grinned—until she nearly lost control. The weapon clattered against the floor, the sharp clang bouncing off the walls of the Velvet Room.

Akane’s eyes locked onto the peacock feathers as she snatched it back with a fierce determination. There was no way she was going to embarrass herself in front of Hamuko-sensei!

“Hyah!” she cried, pivoting on her heel as she spun the naginata in a swift arc, stopping with its blade mere inches from Zenkichi’s neck with the grace of someone who was just copying action movies.

Zenkichi’s lips twitched at the edges, barely restraining a smile. His brow quirked, and he remained perfectly still, unfazed.

“Can’t kill me at that spot, remember?” he said, his tone dry but amused. “Also—watch your energy levels, Akane. Don’t overclock yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Akane muttered, but her determination remained. She lowered the naginata carefully, not wanting to show the slightest tremble in her grip. “But I’m still going to show Hamuko-san the trick with the knife. You should show off your sword too!”

Zenkichi’s neutral expression shifted to one of mild horror. “Whoa—no. I’m not waving my sword around like some kind of kid in gym class-!"

Edited 2025-02-15 00:58 (UTC)

The drop doesn't surprise her - long arms like that are easier to handle when your height matches it after all. She didn't laugh or crack a smile, watching a little carefully at her swinging at Zenkichi... but that turned out fine too.

Their banter was so charming, when they let themselves BE themselves.

But that last protest from Zenkichi gets a chuckle from Hamuko.

"We could have a little spar if you want to show it that way, instead. I've got healing spells a-plenty."

Zenkichi’s eyes crinkled with amusement at Hamuko’s offer. He was tempted—sparring was something he could never say no to, especially with someone so full of energy. But he wasn’t about to jump in just yet.

“You’re awfully sprightly for someone who just showed up here,” he said, his tone quiet but tinged with dry humor. “I took my sweet time before throwing fists in this place. Guess I’m not the get-settled-then-swing-a-naginata type.”

He crossed his arms, glancing between Hamuko and Akane. “Once you’re fully settled, though? Sure. We’ll practice. I’m down for sparring anytime. But not today. I’m already running late soo...guess I will just do a quick intro post on the board and then I need to...rejuvenate.”

"I am looking forward to exploring some. Some familiar sights, some new ones! I'm excited to meet everyone," she agreed fondly, lightly taking her naginata from Akane and giving it a twirl - safely away from either of them, of course - in a hand with all of the practice and muscle memory to show her proficiency.

"Maaaybe I'll make a quick stop in the Iwatodai Dorms first... Vel Vel Muruga isn't really the most covert weapon, I'd look a little funny going clothes shopping with it slung over my shoulder."

Zenkichi watched Hamuko twirl the naginata with ease, her movements fluid and precise. She was certainly enthusiastic about everything, and that energy wasn’t lost on him. If she’d truly passed away, it made sense for her to be catching up on what the world had become. A lot had changed since 2010, after all. And she’d missed all of it.

He thought back to his own year—2038. 28 years after Hamuko’s passing.

“Clothes shopping, huh?” he muttered, tapping his fingers against one crossed arm. “I’ve been wearing the same damn uniform for the past decade or so, so I sure as hell won’t be much help.”

Neither would Akane, truth be told. Though she would like to try anyway.

Still living in the dormitories situated right where Tartarus stemmed from...that anxiety felt familiar. Closer to how their world was.

“That’s where you used to live?” Akane asked, her fingers flexing slightly, as if still trying to memorize the feel of the naginata in her hands. The way Hamuko carried the weapon like it was an extension of her was... impressive. Why couldn’t she connect the same way? She had a body, right? Wasn’t that enough?

“Well…” Akane continued, her tone growing playful, “you’re always free to crash at our place too. Wolf’s a very boring roommate. Keeps coughing up microbots when he thinks I’m not online—”

“Hey!” Zenkichi shot her a sharp glare, lips parted in embarassment and even shock. “Don't describe me like I am just some...old cat throwing up a furball—! I can be fun!”

She was gonna comment that she wanted to live somewhere that reminded her of her friends, and where felt the most like home, but--

"Coughing up microbots? Are you okay, Wolf-pop?" she laughed, though it was only to soften and mask her honestly obvious concern. Coughing up anything was probably pretty bad for you!

The laugh made Zenkichi’s lips twitch—just a little—into another grin. The concept of microbots sounded concerning to anyone normal. But Zenkichi? He couldn’t resist turning it into another chance to play it cool.

“Awh—are you worried about me, Hamuko-chan?” he teased, letting the grin widen just enough to be smug. “It’s sweet. Really. I’m touched.”

He presses his hand to his chest. "I’ve handled worse. It’s just part of me being Unhuman."

"Of course I'm worried, coughing anything up is bad, isn't it??" Hamuko fretted, putting her hands on her hips. "It's perfectly normal to worry about someone supposedly coughing up something!! What's coughing up a 'microbot' even mean?? Is that like... nanites? Like from a scifi movie??"

Zenkichi’s smug grin softened into something gentler as he watched Hamuko’s genuine concern play out. For all her toughness, there was a tenderness about her that reminded him of better days.

“Well, yeah,” he finally admitted, giving her a lopsided smile. “Coughing anything up is usually bad. And yeah—microbots are pretty much like nanites. The year 2038 is something of a sci-fi flick after all.”

"They’re there to keep him healthy,” Akane interjected, stepping in like it was her turn for show-and-tell. "His systems are designed to run for centuries, bare minimum. Three hundred years, at least." She held up her hand, making a pinching motion. "They’re so small a thousand of them could balance on the tip of a needle. They repair damage from the inside and if some of them grow faulty, they are expelled out through coughing."

“See?” Zenkichi drawled with a flourish. “I’m basically a walking repair shop. Nothing to worry about.”

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