Warnings: Slashy-ish, crossover, will tie into other stories I intend to write later...
Disclaimers: Both xxxHOLiC and Chobits belong to CLAMP and associates, of whom I am not one. I'm just a fan. Title is borrowed from Daft Punk.
Featuring: Persocom!Watanuki and Doumeki (he needs no prefix)
It was a rather innocuous looking shop, so far as Doumeki Shizuka could see. The building itself was an old western style house and surrounded by a large lawn with well kept grass, a strange thing to see in even so urbanized an area as a suburb these days. A rather dilapidated wooden fence surrounded the premises, with only the mouth of the walkway leading to house uncovered by the planks. So maybe it wasn't all that innocuous, but it still held an unassuming air that would make most anyone pass it by without a second glance.
If Doumeki didn't know that Kunogi Himawari had nothing against him, he might wonder if she had set him up.
He set forth warily, though none could tell by how he walked. His shoes were quiet on the path, but with how tight security systems were nowadays, he wasn't at all surprised when the door to the shop opened up before he'd even reached the steps of the wooden porch. Two little girls – persocoms, he corrected immediately upon seeing the old-fashioned ear ports (1) – in complex lolita dresses bounded out of the doorway. One had blazing pink hair, the other bright blue, and their faces were identical.
They also seemed strangely pleased to see him, more than was completely proper among those who had never met, but it was bound to be in their programming to be so chipper and childlike.
"A customer!" cried the pink one happily as he grabbed his left hand.
"Come in!" squealed the other happily as she took his right hand between both of hers. The girls tugged on his arms to lead him up to the porch and toward the door.
"A customer! A customer!" The girls giggled to each other excitedly and continued to drag Doumeki by the hands even when they were inside the house.
It was very different on the inside from the out, more modern. There were many television screens and computer monitors sitting about in the hall, and tools laid out innocuously and just barely out of the path of wandering feet. Photographs on the wall depicted groups of people, mostly couples, all including at least one persocom. Sometimes the picture was just of two persocoms, but in all of them the difference between the computers and humans was highlighted by the old-fashioned ear ports.
"This way!" The blue girl released Doumeki's hand first, then the pink, and they were suddenly behind him pressing him to a door on the right of the hall. His last sight of the hallways itself was a glimpse into what appeared to be a very high tech workroom at the back of the shop.
The room he was shoved into, Doumeki decided, was interesting enough to make up for the manhandling. The little persocoms left him with an exclamation that they were going to fetch the proprietor (not in those words of course), though he'd barely heard them. The Doumeki family only possessed one computer, a laptop that was mostly used for household finances and managing the temple. Of course, Doumeki often had to use the little machine for school work, but not often since he generally preferred doing things under his own power.
Now that he was going on his last year in high school, however, his parents had decided he ought to have his own persocom. He was planning to start college next year, and his mother thought it best to become accustomed to a 'com and have that 'com be likewise accustomed to him before starting school.
Having never possessed his own persocom, it was understandable that Doumeki would be entranced upon entering the shop's showroom. There weren't a lot of persocoms on display compared to the shops that Doumeki had seen on trips into the city, but Himawari had informed him that this shop sold the top-rated persocoms in all of Japan and that even her little cell phone that she had purchased was as powerful as a lower-end laptop.
There were maybe 25 'coms on display. There were various laptops and cell phones as well, but those were all on the walls or seated on the low tables. The persocoms were instead seated in chairs or on couches in neutral positions – back straight, chin high, hands on knees, legs slightly apart with feet pointing straight forward – and all turned off. One was a teenage boy with bright green hair and a strong jaw, next to him sat another teenager with a rounder face, black hair, and wearing a straw hat – according to a small placard, the Sankendo version 3.3 and Gomugomu version 1.1 respectively. Another couch held a boy and girl with brown hair, both young, maybe fifteen years old – the Tsubasa 2.1 and 2.2.
The true saving grace, Doumeki decided, was that all of these 'coms were wearing real clothing instead of the skintight garments that most 'coms were sold in. Sure, they were just machines, but they were humanoid.
Doumeki continued eyeing the persocoms seated around the room, all but a few having the distinctive ear ports. When he thought about it, he'd been seeing the ear ports more often lately, but worn as accessories rather than actually being a part of the chassis. He'd seen humans walking around with them, and a lot of companies were using the old port-models for gaming headsets and earphones.
Eventually, he stopped walking when he reached a 'com that looked more his age than the others, about seventeen or so, with slightly mussed black hair. The plastic polymer that made up his flesh was very pale and contrasted with the dark locks. He had long limbs and was lean, though not really "skinny". The dark gakuran, Doumeki decided, suited it.
The little plaque read "Tsubasa 4.1" putting it in the same series as the boy-girl pair on the other side of the room. Doumeki almost made a noise of amusement; it was the first day of April, the first day of school as well, and he happened to run across a version "4.1". Oh the irony.
"Do you like him?" Doumeki didn't jump when the voice interrupted his examination of the persocom, instead turning around calmly. A woman – a very tall woman – was standing approximately 3 feet away from him. Her hair, which was ridiculously long if one asked Doumeki, though they wouldn't, hung past her hips that were both concealed and accented by a rather risqué kimono, not at all traditional.
Doumeki only hummed a noncommittal reply. He didn't understand what any of the specs on the plaque actually meant, so he couldn't really say. And he was rather caught up looking at the woman. Was she...?
"He's brand new, I just finished his software this morning you see," she went on, perhaps taking Doumeki's near-silence as the curiosity it was. "He's one of my more... unique models, but definitely a better one too. His RAM is greater than the standard and his processing power is rather high as well. His emotion software is top of the line, too; not even the National Databank can match the depth and breadth of his emotional capabilities. Unfortunately, the power diversion made it impossible to include the usual growth programs and additions to the chassis while keeping it under legal power limitations. Still, he's a great 'com, even if he'll be stuck at seventeen forever."
Doumeki had decided. "You're a persocom." He could just barely see the outline of her ear ports – the bulb-kind with the slide-open port – through her hair.
"Yes, and I'm the person who designed and built every persocom in this room... well, except for myself, of course. I also hold the title to this land," she seemed rather smug about this as she listed off the human rights she held. "No two of my persocoms are quite the same, even in the same series. So, do you like him? My latest Tsubasa?"
She hadn't even tried to draw attention to the other 'coms in the room; this Tsubasa 4.1 was probably the most expensive of the lot. "How much?" Doumeki did, after all, have a budget. Sure, his father was paying, but Doumeki didn't want to put his family in debt to have a nice computer. That was just stupid.
"1,000,000 yen; pretty cheap for a custom model, huh? (2)" the proprietor laughed as Doumeki's eyebrows went up. That was less than half of what his father told him he could spend. "Actually, all of my 'coms are fairly cheap, since I don't have to pay any employees. All the money goes to parts for more 'coms, taxes, and sake!" She sounded quite pleased with herself.
Doumeki hadn't been aware that persocoms could drink. "Hn."
"So, are you going to buy him?" She was already sporting a grin like the cat that caught the canary. Like she had already sold him. Doumeki could admit that the price was good, but he really didn't know anything about the computer itself.
"What are its... capabilities?" He tried to sound better educated about computers than he was, but it probably didn't work.
"He has the standard things of course – wireless web access, phone calls, a word processor, games, dictionary, email, spread sheets, and playing mp3s – just like even a laptop would have," the persocom informed him, putting extra emphasis on the gender of the computer; Doumeki didn't really see the point. "And then he has his programmed abilities and applications, though you can always download more... then again, teaching makes it more specific to your preferences. Anyway, the Tsubasa 4.1 is skilled in foreign language, human relations, cleaning, and – if I might say so – he's a magnificent cook."
The way she looked at him, she knew she had him sold. And she was right.
"I'll take him," Doumeki replied at that point. He couldn't cook very well, and he'd likely not be living at home for college, so it wasn't like he could rely on his mother to cook for him, nor would he trust any restaurants he'd never been to. A persocom who could cook... that was a very smart idea.
"Wonderful, I'm sure you'll be very happy once you get to know each other," the woman looked very pleased. "We'll do the transaction at the register over there and get you and your new 'com set up." As she took his father's credit card and set about the transaction, she continued talking. "Since the Tsubasa 4.1 is new, he'll only need two maintenance checkups over the next year, both of which will be free. One ought to fall a bit before the half year mark, the other around the year mark. After that, because he isn't a growing model, maintenance may fall whenever you feel it is necessary, or when he tells you that he feels it is necessary, though it is generally considered a good idea to have a check up at least once a year, certainly no less than once every two years. If you take care of him properly, everything should run perfectly smooth."
Doumeki only hummed and accepted the user manual that was handed over to him in a plastic bag, as well as the card that was now able to access only half as much money as before, which was still quite a lot.
"It's start up time! Ready, Doumeki-kun?" She had learned his name from the card and seemed to take great relish in addressing him properly. He only sent her a look that gave off a rather deadpan "no duh" vibe, or that's how Doumeki felt the look was portrayed. Then again, what did he know about how other people saw his facial expressions?
The Tsukasa's left ear port, a delicate creation of metal that was whit on top and pink on the bottom, was opened on a simple hinge, and the proprietor – Yuuko, as she had revealed – gestured for him to do the honors of pressing the "on" button concealed within.
The first thing that happened was that the 'com opened startling blue eyes. They were also startlingly blank, like it – he – had not starting using visual sensors just yet. "Please enter system identity," the 'com stated in a blank voice. The timber of the voice itself wasn't bad, but the tone was flat; Doumeki assumed it was something to do with the fact that it apparently wasn't entirely started yet... which made sense. It was already asking for basic information.
"Do I need to give it – him," Doumeki amended his statement for the benefit of the femme 'com beside him, "a full name?"
"No, but I'm sure that he would like one," Yuuko smiled at him, as if knowing what he was thinking, which was strange since even Doumeki wasn't sure what he was thinking. "Names, after all, are very important things, don't you agree?"
Doumeki hummed a response, then turned to the Tsubasa's blank gaze again. "'Watanuki', written with the kanji for 'April first', and 'Kimihiro' written with the kanji 'you' and 'depth' (3)." The surname had been easy, but thinking of a given name... well, he just took the first one that popped into his head.
"Identity Watanuki Kimihiro accepted," the Tsubasa – Watanuki now – intoned, eyes now showing a slight registration of surroundings as it zeroed in on Doumeki. "Register owner identity."
"Registering to National Databank... registration complete, please state new password for complete boot up," the eyes were now more alive, and the mouth moved with the words instead of merely emitting sound. In the back of his mind, Doumeki hoped he wouldn't need another persocom ever, because this process was rather... strange.
He thought for a moment and then approached the 'com (passwords were supposed to be secret, right?) to whisper in the auditory sensor, "Ayakashi, with the 'shi' turned backwards like a romaji 'j'." He was, after all, descended from priests, and he wouldn't forget it. He moved away again.
"Password accepted," Watanuki stated. Then he blinked, and Doumeki could see his eyes weren't blank anymore. The persocom stared at him for all of two seconds before –
Doumeki ducked and stared wide eyed as the persocom passed through where Doumeki had been standing, foot first. What. The. Hell. Had his persocom just tried to give him a flying kick to the face?! That... alright, Doumeki knew very little about computers, let alone computers with supposedly amazing emotion programming, but that was a bit much.
Yuuko just smiled. "I hope you enjoy your new persocom, Doumeki-kun, and don't forget to read the user manual when you have time!"
Doumeki wondered if it – he, the kyudo practitioner amended, because he had to remember it was insensitive to say it as that usually resulted in being yelled at – was going to get a tick. Or maybe all persocoms did that? Well, with the way that Watanuki's cheek was twitching earlier, it certainly could have been a hardware glitch, some crossed wires. His owner's manual said nothing about it, just a bunch of gibberish about how his emotion system worked and some "owner-to-persocom etiquette for first timers".
There had also been a chapter about human-to-computer romantic relations, though he'd skipped that over entirely. It was common, yes, but why bother to fall in love with a computer anyway?
Still, Watanuki's twitching cheek had Doumeki's full attention, because he'd only had the thing for a day and there was no way he was going to use up the first free check up already. No, he'd just have to bear with having a twitchy persocom for a while.
He would also, apparently, have to deal with having a persocom that hated him. Oh, Watanuki was doing his duties well enough – he'd made dinner the night before and had let Doumeki type a few emails – but throughout those duties he would glare at Doumeki for seemingly no reason. The archer had done nothing to deserve this, but Watanuki still glared at him constantly.
And yet he was so different to anyone else. When they had been walking to Doumeki's house, Watanuki had grumbled and complained, mostly about how Doumeki had "a stupid face" and was "so rude!", but had been courteous enough to help an old woman cross the street, get a cat out of a tree for a little girl, and inform a yankee (4) on behalf of a housewife that his music was on very loudly and that the unsavory words within the music were better off not played in the middle of the street. Directly after, he'd gone back to complaining about how Doumeki had the personality of a turnip, only less likeable.
Doumeki couldn't help but wonder if Watanuki's skill set really included human relations or if that Yuuko persocom was full of it. But the computer had been nothing but polite to Doumeki's parents, who were quite pleased with Watanuki as well; they praised their son for picking such a well rounded computer, and the machines cheeks tinged red in embarrassment at the praise.
Doumeki wondered if Watanuki was, perhaps, suffering from some sort of digital disassociate personality disorder. It would make sense, but it still didn't quite, because Watanuki was quick to praise anyone but Doumeki in either mood.
"Waah! Himawari-chan, your hair is so lovely!" Watanuki praised loudly as he fawned over the girl. Kunogi Himawari, Doumeki's ex-girlfriend, had been the one to recommend the persocom shop where Watanuki had been purchased. She was a nice girl, very pretty, but neither she nor Doumeki were particularly interested in the other in that fashion; they split on good terms. Her old cell phone, one modeled after a boy from an anime, had broken over the break between school years and she had replaced it at Yuuko's shop with a yellow bird she called 'Tanpopo' for the color; when Doumeki had commented on it the day prior, she told him the location of the shop.
"Watanuki-kun, you're really too nice," Himawari giggled. She had only met Watanuki a few minutes ago, having come to Doumeki's home to meet the persocom, and they'd hit it off famously. While Watanuki dealt subtle jabs at Doumeki all the while, he seemed to radiate happiness and adoration as soon as he saw Himawari.
There was no harm in admitting his jealousy over the matter, Doumeki knew, because his computer hated him and loved anyone whose name was not Doumeki Shizuka. Really, if there was another person with that name, Watanuki would probably treat him quite well, so it was entirely personal. Was there no loyalty programmed in? Were there other users of Yuuko's persocoms who had to suffer such a fate? He was torn between hoping this was the case and that that persocom had to stop manufacturing more of her kind and hoping he was the only one since, just one day in, his patience was coming to an end.
And Doumeki could be very patient when he wanted, too.
"Machiko-kaa-san (5) took me to the grocery store this morning before she went to work so I could make some treats to introduce myself to the neighbors with, but I made so much that I'm certain there's some extra if you want it Himawari-chan," Watanuki simpered at the girl, who nodded happily, her pigtails bobbing with her.
It was like watching a love sick puppy, or a train wreck or... or something else that Doumeki couldn't think of. Disgusting and weird and tragic and strangely fascinating.
Watanuki had made crème puffs in abundance; unless he was planning to give one to all the neighbors in a ten block radius, there was no way all of those crème puffs would be needed. Himawari accepted one gratefully as Watanuki flitted happily around her. Watanuki was a good cook though, with a definite flavor to his cooking – Doumeki had feared that, being a computer, everything would have the strict recipe flavor, but all the dishes from dinner, breakfast, and the bentou for Doumeki's lunch had had a real flair, though not enough salt – and so the archer moved to grab one of his own.
The computer slapped his hand away; Doumeki glared.
"No way, Doumeki-san," Watanuki wagged his finger agitatedly. He had said "Shizuka-san" the night prior, but that seemed to be strictly in front of his parents. The addition of –san was probably only because Himawari was present. "These are for the neighbors. Besides, I don't think your parents would approve of spoiling your appetite, would they?" His voice dropped dangerously, and although Doumeki wanted to argue that he was a teenaged boy and therefore a crème puff wouldn't spoil his appetite, he held his tongue.
In the end, Doumeki was conned by Himawari into joining her and Watanuki as he introduced himself to the neighbors and delivered his puffy treats, precisely one for each human resident (for while developments had been made to allow persocoms to "eat" it was all for appearances and only escort persocoms usually used that function) in a five block radius.
There were still two left at the house, one each for Doumeki's parents. The one Himawari had eaten would have gone to a neighbor who turned out to be diabetic anyway.
"Why do I have to go to school with you of all people, anyway?" Watanuki groused as he trailed behind Doumeki. The human didn't reply, so the 'com fumed. Gods, that guy really got on his nerves. Every time he so much as thought about that bastard his emotion programs went haywire. Alright, he sort of regretted kicking the guy at first sight, but the point remained that he obviously didn't like Doumeki.
Of course, Watanuki did not think that this reaction could be anything but hatred. Pure and unadulterated loathing. After all, there were so many reasons to hate that bastard – he was quiet, bossy, arrogant, annoying, surly, and let's not forget he had a stupid face – just in his personality. Combined with him breaking up with Himawari of all people (alright, so technically Himawari broke it off with him, which only made it worse, even if they were "still friends"), that had to make that bastard the worst example of humanity. And with how many bad people there were – Watanuki should know, as he liked to look things up on the internet whenever he got bored – that made Doumeki pretty bad.
It was June, and Watanuki had been with the Doumeki family for two and a half months. He refused to think of it as being with Doumeki Shizuka specifically, because he spent as little of his time as possible around the stupid-faced archer. Unfortunately, being that person's personal persocom made that very difficult, since it was more often than not required for third year students to bring a computer to class.
And, gee, Watanuki happened to be a computer. There was no way he'd subject the cute little Doumeki family laptop, Kero-chan, to this guy.
So caught up in his irate musings was Watanuki, that he didn't notice anything was amiss until his proximity warning started flashing. That generally meant something – a car specifically – was on a collision course and it was too late to get out of the way so he ought to do what he could to soften the blow by turning off all unnecessary processes and hitting the air bag.
Even as Watanuki frantically started shutting off systems and preparing to take the blow that, according to his sensors, was only three seconds from hitting, he was hit by something else.
Or, rather, tackled. By Doumeki.
The object, now identified as a four door sedan with a dark blue paint job (something Watanuki vowed to hate for the rest of his life even as he input the license number into his memory banks for future reference), went by harmlessly, or harmless to Watanuki anyway. It barely caught Doumeki's heel, but the crack was audible. It didn't sound too bad, but Watanuki wasn't a medical 'com so he wouldn't trust his own judgment.
Watanuki's systems came back on line two milliseconds after his airbag deflated, and he immediately sent a message to a 110 persocom (6), an ambulance company, and one to his creator saying he would be in for maintenance later in the day.
Then, he started yelling.
"You... you idiot!" He spouted angrily at his owner, emotion programming going into overdrive. His esophagus-tube was contracting, making it difficult for his larynx-unit to enable his speech processors, though he managed slightly. The reaction was even messing with his optical sensors! "What the hell did you think you were doing?!
Doumeki, who was sprawled on top of the 'com, grimaced slightly and rolled off to the side and curled upwards to grasp his leg – not the broken ankle, but the calf above it. Watanuki managed to hold himself back from continuing his tirade as he waited for his owner to comply by answering. And Doumeki did seem intent upon answering, it would just take a moment to speak past the physical pain of having his foot clipping by a car moving at 35 miles per hour.
After two minutes, the big galoot replied with, "I was keeping you safe."
There was a throb in Watanuki's emotion programming that penetrated through the tightness being generated that Watanuki interpreted as pain. "You asshole! You complete idiot!" he raged through the pain. He didn't like that that sentence had hurt him, and he didn't get why, which turned some of the tightness into anger. But wasn't it already anger? "What do you mean 'keeping me safe', huh?! I'm a persocom, a computer! I'm a lot easier to fix than a person!"
"And if you can't be fixed?" Doumeki didn't sound pleased. That was probably because his ankle was broken – hopefully not shattered – and instead of helping Watanuki was yelling at him. Well, tough monkeys! Doumeki was an idiot, and based on the information Watanuki had just looked up on the internet only a trained professional should move him which meant waiting for the ambulance that was reporting a .542 kilometer distance from their position. In short, they were going to have to sit tight for approximately 3 minutes until the emergency vehicle arrived.
"Then you can have me replaced; my warrantee is still good for another seven and a half months, so it's not that big of a deal," the blurriness of his visual sensors was worsening, as was the tightening of his esophagus tube near the larynx. The liquid used to lubricate the visual sensor protection orbs, or "eyes", was also being released at quadruple the usual rate and rising.
Doumeki glared at him. "No, you can't be replaced."
And some of the tightening eased, the pain lessened, but the overwhelming feeling just increased, the one that drove Watanuki to try and kick Doumeki in the face, the one he interpreted as loathing. But did that make sense now? Yes, it must. He hated Doumeki for being unreasonable and putting himself in danger when there was no reasonable reason to endanger himself.
But, logically speaking, did that mean that Watanuki cared for his owner? He didn't think so, because that would mean he didn't hate the idiot. And if it wasn't hate...
If it wasn't hate, then what did he feel for Doumeki?
"Malfunctioning? Are you sure?" Yuuko looked curiously at her creation who nodded emphatically. Technically Watanuki had only met the woman once, when he had woken up, but she was his creator, so he supposed he was supposed to... like her or something.
"Yes, I'm positive," Watanuki confirmed. "According to the accessible data, my emotion programming is not meant to be that... active. I'm meant to have the full range of human emotions, but there is a constant emotion that overpowers the rest and I can't find any logical or algorithmical reason for its presence."
"Alright, I'll run a full diagnostic, so take a seat," Yuuko indicated the mechanical platform in the middle of the maintenance room. He complied and opened his ear ports to have the connections to his creator open. With their cables connected, Watanuki could feel her processing the appropriate information, her firewall checking for tampered information that his own would have missed, etc.
After his emotion programming was scanned, Watanuki shifted a little on the cold metal of the table. "Yuuko-san," he started, unsure. He had considered, prior to meeting her again, that maybe he should refer to her as his mother or something, but such sentiment was ridiculous. "Yuuko-san, did you detect anything? Your firewall did not start making alterations..."
"Because there are no alterations to be made," she supplied as the cables unconnected from one another. "You are in perfect working order; the only maintenance required will be to fix the abrasion over your left patella. The graft will take approximately thirty seconds to complete."
"Wha- but how can I not be malfunctioning?" Watanuki stared at her uncomprehendingly. "All data shows that my emotions should not be reacting in this manner around people!"
"People? No, it shouldn't react that way to people," Yuuko smiled like the cat that caught Tanpopo last week before discovering that the little bird was a mobile phone rather than an actual canary. "But around a person? Your programming is reacting exactly as it should around that one person."
"Well... what makes Doumeki so special then?" Watanuki frowned.
"How should I know?" Yuuko smiled in a knowing way. "I was created by one of the pioneers of persocom inventing, a man by the name of Clow Reed, and he gave me and many of his other persocoms a special ability. It is one that I have given to my other creations and perfected in you. Because of the success of this ability in you, I have been able to upgrade every other persocom that I have made since then. Do you understand?"
Watanuki shook his head. "Not in the least. What do you mean 'ability'?"
And Yuuko laughed at him. "Why, the ability to love of course!"
Don't forget to read the omake!
Author's Note: Okay... so I have never read or written any Chobits fanfic which, now, seems very strange since Chobits was the first manga I ever read (back in, like, elementary school... *cough*). Very strange since I absolutely ADORE it (I'm picky about my Shoujo). But yeah, now I'm doing a whole slew of them. After this should be a Skip Beat crossover (one, maybe a two shot). All of these will later have cameos in the bigger Chobits crossover I'm doing with Ouran later (won't be started until next semester, who knows about actual posting dates).
(1) The reason I'm saying the ear ports are old fashioned is that this takes place a good ten years after Chobits (due to technological advances that occur within the universe that I am mashing together). In Chobits, human-ear type ports were already hitting the market before the series ended, having been not uncommon in custom models already (a la Kokubunji Yuzuki), and by ten years later anything else would seem old-fashioned or even retro.
(2) This is roughly 10,000 USD or 6,000 £; pretty cheap considering it's a persocom of all things, ne?
(3) Ugh, internet is so not helpful and since it's vacation I can't ask sensei EXACTLY what the 'hiro' kanji in 'Kimihiro' is supposed to mean (and yes, kimi is 'you', albeit a very polite form (as it's generally considered rude to use a second person pronoun in Japan), but it's also used for -kun, and in no-kimi which is a polite title), so I went as close as I could...
(4) In Japan, Yankee is a term meaning a delinquent teenager (actually spelled yankii, but I'm being nice to the Westerners here).
(5) Yes, I realize Doumeki's mom doesn't have a name, but this is the name I gave her in an RP with Beauty Mouse a few months ago (and I loved the dynamic of the parents we gave Doumeki, really, they were awesome), so I'm just doing an homage to the 100k word RP that no one will ever see :D And with how she was in that... well, they weren't as traditional as they probably are. She'd totally tell Watanuki to call her kaa-san though, lol.
(6) 110 in Japan is like 911 in America or 999 in Britain, except less all-purpose. I think it's police only.
Omake (that evening)
Watanuki had been mumbling under his breath the entire way back to the Doumeki shrine from Yuuko's shop; she claimed that his maintenance was free, but the romantic advice had a charge and made him clean up part of the shop for her. He had made sure to close all memory containing information of their little "chat" and the implications of "love", but as he stepped foot onto the Doumeki property and saw his owner sitting on the stoop with a cast on his lower leg, he felt his esophagus tubing constrict again.
Doumeki was fine; Watanuki had gone home with him from the doctor's, getting a ride from Doumeki's mother in a rented car, before going to Yuuko after all, and knew that while the ankle was broken and there was a minor sprain to both the Tibia and Fibula, it would be well enough to walk on in a month. So... Watanuki didn't need to worry. He didn't want to worry.
But he still worried.
Doumeki looked up from the book in his lap, a text book of some sort, and greeted him quietly before going back to it.
"Are your parents home?" Watanuki asked quietly, uncertain but sounded only a little cautious.
"No," Doumeki shrugged, and Watanuki didn't bother asking him to elucidate. They had been planning to attend a kabuki performance that evening, and Doumeki had probably told them not to cancel their plans just because he was injured. They were relying on Watanuki to take care of him, and the persocom would not be so remiss as to disappoint the wonderful parents cursed with such horrible spawn as Doumeki Shizuka.
Or that was what Watanuki told himself.
The evening went quietly, crawling by at a pace easily overtaken by even the slowest of snails. Watanuki cooked for his owner, helping the teenager to the table and helping him sit in the manner that would least agitate his leg – "It's not like I care or anything, but the less stress you put on it now the sooner I can stop babysitting you," he defended against Doumeki's nonexistent accusation – and doing his level best to have a better bedside manner than if this had happened, say, a week ago.
Yuuko's revelation had nothing to do with it, or so he told himself.
Still, the evening passed quietly. Doumeki worked the homework he missed from school that day – Himawari had emailed it to Watanuki who had printed it out before going to Yuuko – and Watanuki tried to occupy himself by looking up strange things on the internet.
Eventually, however, with his emotions regarding a certain archer piling high, he couldn't help but explode. "Dammit, Doumeki! Just say if you can like me or not so I can kiss you already!" He slapped a hand of his auditory expulsion unit in his neck and couldn't help but look up creative insults to call himself.
Doumeki stared at Watanuki, who felt the skin-like polymer of his cheeks heat under the gaze, for approximately ten seconds before speaking. "Oi."
Watanuki fumed. "My name is Watanuki Kimihiro! At least call me by the name you gave me, you asshole!" Gods, he felt... embarrassed. Yes, that's what his emotion reading was leading to. And he knew why; he had just confessed like a girl in one of the Shoujo manga that Himawari had read with him, and Doumeki wasn't about to be receptive to it. Not that Watanuki wanted him to be receptive...
It's very difficult for a machine to lie to itself when all data files pointed to the same conclusion and he was fully aware of absolutely everything proving him wrong.
"Come here," Doumeki waved his hand at Watanuki, who stood from his chair and walked over.
What was Doumeki going to do? Tell him off? Act as though nothing happened? Make Watanuki do his homework for him? As Watanuki stood in front of his owner, careful to stay closer to the good leg than the bad one, he couldn't help but agonize over this.
Then Doumeki's arm lashed out and pulled Watanuki closer, and the persocom realized why there were so many sense-nodes in his lips.