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It wasn’t uncommon for Kojiro not to see Kaoru for several days at a time. Usually it was for work related reasons, like Kaoru taking on more commissions than he probably should all at once. Sometimes it was Kojiro staying up late planning an updated menu for the upcoming season, then falling asleep in his office chair when he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. They had learned that, as adults with adult lives, there would be days when they wouldn’t have the time or means to meet each other in person.
Not actually seeing Kaoru for a few days was a relatively normal occurrence. Not hearing from him at all, however, was a different story.
Kojiro had sent him a number of texts over the past few days: a recount of a fussy customer causing him a headache; a link to an interesting skating video; a single, mundane ‘hey’. Kaoru may not have been the most chatty texter in the world, but he would at least answer once a day without fail (even if much of the time it was to tell Kojiro to leave him alone).
This time, every single message Kojiro had sent had been left unanswered.
He wasn’t necessarily worried, beyond the disturbing possibility that Kaoru had been sustaining himself solely on bottled tea and Calorie Mates. He was fairly certain Kaoru wasn’t dead… probably. But either way, it was likely his friend hadn’t had a proper meal since the last time he’d been at the restaurant, and that meant Kojiro would have to take matters into his own hands.
After closing up Sia la Luce that evening, Kojiro stood on the doorstep of Kaoru's home, a takeout box filled with still-warm carbonara in his hand and an aggravated expression on his face. As soon as he'd stepped past what he assumed must be a hidden sensor somewhere, his least favorite robot had immediately started giving him the third degree.
"Please state your name and order of business," came Carla's familiar voice, clear and admittedly pretty professional-sounding.
"Just let me in, you know it's me," Kojiro groused, assuring himself in his mind that he was talking to Kaoru and not Carla. He refused to speak to the AI as if it were an actual person and not just some bootleg Alexa.
Heh. Bootleg Alexa. That one was sure to rile Kaoru up. He would have to tuck it away for later, but first he needed to actually get into the house.
"Please state your name and order of business," Carla repeated pleasantly.
Kojiro narrowed his eyes and looked straight into where he estimated her camera was. "Don't you have facial recognition? Or is that beyond your capabilities?" he asked, a little too smugly for someone who was currently taunting a computer program. "Tell your stupid master he needs to update your brain. Better yet, let me in so I can tell him myself."
"I'm sorry, I couldn't find that name on today's list of guests."
Kojiro muttered an exasperated curse under his breath. He was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. He curled his free hand into a fist and started pounding on the door, shouting, "Kaoru! Open the hell up!"
"I'm going to have to ask you to please leave the premises," Carla informed him.
Kojiro ignored her and banged on the door even harder. "I'll do this all night! I'll disturb every single neighbor you have!" he threatened, raising his voice to prove he wasn't bluffing.
As much as Kaoru loved to ruffle Kojiro's feathers, he preferred those of the public to remain as unruffled as possible, lest his carefully cultivated reputation be put into question. Kojiro was 99% certain this was the only reason Kaoru actually ended up opening the door.
“Would you stop that?” Kaoru hissed, the irritation in his golden eyes evident even in the dim lighting outside. He was wearing a simple grey yukata instead of his usual navy one, and his hair was gathered back into a bun that was mostly falling out, but other than that, Kojiro noticed he didn’t look too worse for wear. That was good.
“I brought carbonara,” Kojiro said, lifting the hand holding the takeout box and moving it from side to side a little. Kaoru tracked its path with a contemplative expression until he finally grabbed at it and used the motion to lead Kojiro inside.
Kojiro relinquished his hold on the food and grinned as he stepped into the genkan, closing the door behind him. Too easy. If a burglar ever wanted to get in, all they would have to do was offer the pasta-gremlin a snack and they’d be granted full access.
Kaoru led him through the living room and to the kitchen without looking back. Kojiro followed, unhurried, and leaned himself against the counter once they got there.
“So why are you ignoring me?” he asked, watching Kaoru open up cupboards and drawers to transfer the carbonara onto a plate. To be honest, Kojiro was a little surprised he hadn’t just started eating it straight out of the takeout box.
“I’m not ignoring you,” Kaoru replied airily before stuffing a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “I’m speaking to you right now.”
Kojiro rolled his eyes. “I meant ignoring my texts, brainiac,” he retorted, knowing full well Kaoru was entirely aware of what he’d been referring to. “You’ve left me on read for the past three days.”
Kaoru did have the decency to look a little bit sorry, but the expression was short-lived; soon enough, his face had returned to its familiar look of haughtiness. Kojiro was highly trained in the art of Kaoru Microexpressions, though, and he was able to catch the flicker of guilt on his friend’s face. That made him feel a little bit better.
“I’ve been busy lately,” Kaoru explained after finishing another mouthful of carbonara.
Kojiro decided not to point out that Kaoru was always busy, but he still generally found time to text Kojiro back. But at least now that he knew Kaoru was okay, he wasn’t particularly upset anymore. More than anything, he was just curious. “It must be something big, to take up this much of your attention.”
Kaoru’s eyes held a mixture of barely-restrained excitement and satisfied pride, and Kojiro suddenly knew what this was about without even having to ask.
“I’ve been working on something new for Carla,” Kaoru said, confirming Kojiro’s suspicion. “Something big.” Before Kojiro could ask exactly how big they were talking, Kaoru finished the last bite on his plate and stood, already starting away from the table. “Come.”
Obediently, Kojiro rose as well, sparing a glance at the dirty dishes on the table and vowing to come back for them later. He had a feeling Kaoru either wouldn’t remember or care enough to clean them up as long as he remained in this hyper-focused mood. Together, they walked out of the kitchen and through Kaoru’s home towards the room he used as a workshop.
The difference between this room and the one where Kaoru worked on calligraphy was astonishing. The latter was pristine, everything organized and in its place, with brushes, inks, and paper neatly kept exactly where Kaoru could find them. Just like his outward-facing appearance as Sakurayashiki-sensei, his studio was perfectly put together. After all, his calligraphy was his livelihood.
Carla, on the other hand, was his passion, and Kaoru’s workshop reflected that as well. This room was an explosion of creativity and disorder. Nearly every surface was covered in mechanical parts and tangles of cords, schematics and drawings, boxes and tools and chargers. A laptop sat open on a desk, lines of code spanning the screen in what might as well have been Greek to Kojiro.
But what interested him most was what looked to be some kind of device connected to a monitor–-currently off–-and a series of wires ending in those sticky patch things used on patients in the hospital to hook them up to various machines. He didn’t know what they were called, and he definitely didn’t know why Kaoru had them in his workshop.
“You’ve been ignoring me for three days in order to play evil scientist?” Kojiro asked dubiously, walking over to the table with the curious device on it and inspecting it. He knew better than to touch-–he didn’t particularly want to be kicked or smacked at the moment.
Kaoru had joined him near the table, and even without looking at him, Kojiro could hear the eyeroll in his voice. “Don’t be dense. I’ve been devoting all of my free time to working on what could be a major scientific breakthrough in the fields of artificial intelligence and psychology.”
Kojiro blinked at Kaoru, then looked back down to the sticky things. “Okay, well I’ve only ever seen these things in the hospital. So maybe not evil scientist, but you’re definitely using these things to play doctor, right?”
“I’m not playing anything,” Kaoru huffed, taking out some of his exasperation by giving Kojiro a shove to the side. He delicately picked up one of the medical devices from the table. “This is an adhesive electrode used in electroencephalography,” he began, openly ignoring the furrow of Kojiro’s eyebrows at the unfamiliar word. “In simple terms, they measure brain waves.”
“Okay then, back to evil scien-ow!” Kojiro cut himself off with a yelp of pain resulting from Kaoru promptly stomping on his foot. “What was that for, you demon?!”
“Could you take things seriously for once in your life?” Kaoru glowered, and to his credit, Kojiro didn’t quip back this time. It was becoming clear that Kaoru really was serious about this, whatever it was, and Kojiro watched with growing curiosity as his friend peeled off the backing on one of the electrodes, pushed his hair away from his temple, and attached the device to his head.
He flipped a switch on the monitor to turn it on, then fiddled with some dials and buttons. Suddenly the screen lit up and displayed a number of squiggly lines. They reminded Kojiro of a heart monitor, or a polygraph.
After following the lines on the screen for a few seconds he glanced up at Kaoru and gave him a quizzical look. “So this is…?”
"Neurological integration," Kaoru said matter-of-factly, as if Kojiro was just supposed to know what that meant.
He knew the individual words, of course--he was smarter than most people probably thought, and it didn't help that Kaoru insulted his intelligence all the time--but he was having trouble deciphering the phrase as a whole. The only thing he could think of was Kaoru attempting to make Carla part of his own mind. But that couldn't possibly be it. That was insane, even for Kaoru.
"Skateboard, motorcycle, smart home... Don't tell me you're trying to make a Carla brain now," Kojiro chuckled, fully prepared for Kaoru to shoot down the idea as ridiculous and tell him he was a dimwit for suggesting it.
But Kaoru didn't. The smile he gave when he spoke made Kojiro feel slightly uneasy.
"That is precisely what I'm telling you."
A few moments passed in silence with each of them meeting each other’s gaze. Kaoru looked expectant, like he wanted Kojiro to tell him how impressive he was, or how this was his most brilliant idea to date. It was clear Kaoru believed that was true, but Kojiro couldn’t think of how to respond.
Kaoru’s pleased expression slowly fell, shifting into one of annoyance. “Well? Say something.”
“I’m afraid if I say what I’m thinking you’ll hurt me again.” Kojiro belatedly realized that probably wasn’t much better than just speaking his mind, which was quickly confirmed by the way Kaoru’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance.
“I’m considering hurting you anyway.”
“Then why does it matter if I answer or not!?” Kojiro pointed out, taking a step back just in case Kaoru really was going to follow through on his threat. He hesitated, glancing back and forth between the monitor and the electrode on Kaoru’s temple. “So those lines there are what, your brain waves?”
“That’s right,” Kaoru affirmed, seemingly pacified by Kojiro’s apparent interest, at least for the moment. “The electrodes pick up faint signals from the brain, which are then recorded, amplified, and displayed on the screen.”
The little lines continued to travel across the monitor from one side to the other. It was a bit strange for Kojiro to actually think of them as representations of Kaoru’s brain waves. “So where does Carla enter into all this?” he asked, looking away from the screen again.
Kaoru seemed pleased by the question. In fact, he looked downright excited, his eyes lighting up and the smile on his lips growing wider. “Carla is the most important part of the entire experiment. Thousands of doctors record brain waves every day,” he began, “but how many of them can say they’ve trained AI to organize thoughts, recognize patterns, track emotions, and manipulate memories?”
Kojiro’s eyebrows furrowed at that last part, and he eyed Kaoru skeptically. “Manipulate memories? The hell do you mean by that?”
Kaoru lifted his hand and waved it dismissively. “It isn’t as scary as it sounds. It’s more like synthesizing the information and cataloging everything in a way that’s more… organized. Accessible. The process is meant to make recall easier, that’s all.”
“But you said manipulate. That means change,” Kojiro insisted, his gaze not leaving Kaoru. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but usually whenever Kaoru went off on a nerd tangent, it was kind of fun to listen to–-cute, even, the way he got so expressive and spoke with more passion than he ever tended to nowadays. But something about this current situation was putting Kojiro on edge, and he could feel a sense of foreboding rising in his gut.
“You aren’t seriously making it possible for Carla to change your brain, right? What if she makes a mistake and accidentally, like, overwrites something?” he continued, trying to keep his voice under control; he wasn’t supposed to be the one prone to spiraling between the two of them. “Or what if she does it on purpose?”
A moment of silence passed before Kaoru answered, a beat too late. “Carla wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t or can’t?” Kojiro asked, wanting to be sure. To him, the distinction was incredibly important, and he was admittedly a little irked when Kaoru gave him another dismissive wave in response.
“You’re overreacting,” Kaoru huffed, finally turning off the machine and carefully detaching the sticky electrode from his temple. “Stop treating this as if it’s some science fiction movie. This is real life.”
That’s what I’m worried about, Kojiro thought to himself, but he didn’t say so out loud. Kaoru was the most stubborn person he’d ever known, and Kojiro could already tell this little reveal hadn’t gone the way his friend had anticipated. Arguing further would just make him even more annoyed, and Kaoru might even stop showing off his innovations like this in the future. Kojiro didn’t want that at all, so he kept his mouth shut.
He tried to tell himself that Kaoru was probably right. Much to Kojiro’s chagrin, he usually was. But even so, this whole thing just felt off to him, like the risk factor was a lot higher than normal. Miscalculating an angle while skating and ending up bailing was one thing, but messing with his mind–-the thing that made Kaoru Kaoru–-seemed like a much greater potential consequence.
Kaoru had done a bit of tidying, straightening up the gadgets and papers on the desk and picking up some things that had fallen on the floor. He turned to Kojiro once he was done, looking unexpectedly sheepish. “I’m sorry for not answering your texts,” he said.
Kaoru rarely apologized (at least not genuinely, and especially not to Kojiro). It showed he’d realized how disconnected he really had become over the past few days, and that he truly did feel sorry for making Kojiro concerned.
Kojiro couldn’t help a small smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied easily, relieved that the tension from before seemed to have dissipated for the moment. “If you leave me on read again, I’ll just come over and pound your door down again.”
“Do not do that,” Kaoru answered, already sounding irritated.
Kojiro’s smile turned into a smirk. “I will do that. And there isn’t anything you can do to stop me.”
“I’ll call the police,” Kaoru said flatly. Kojiro knew it was an entirely empty threat; the whole point was not to disturb the neighbors, and having a bunch of cop cars in front of the Sakurayashiki residence would cause more commotion than Kojiro himself would.
“Do it,” Kojiro replied confidently. “I’ll still be able to get in a few good bangs before they come.”
Kaoru set his jaw and threw Kojiro an icy glare. “If you say ‘that’s what he said’, I’m killing you.”
Kojiro blinked, caught off guard, and then erupted into full-bodied laughter. “I wasn’t going to! I didn’t even think of it!” he said, his mirthful grin showing that he wished he had. “That one was all on you.”
Kojiro could practically hear Kaoru’s teeth grinding as he shoved past him and stalked towards the door. He counted that as a win as he followed along behind him. “You know, we could avoid this whole situation if you’d just give me a spare key,” he pointed out.
Kaoru responded without turning around. “I don’t need a key. I have Carla.”
“Yeah, well I do need a key, because Carla wouldn’t let me in!” Kojiro argued sourly.
“Yes, that’s the point!” Kaoru snapped back, turning around to make sure Kojiro saw the exasperation on his face.
“If you gave me a key, I could come over and drop off carbonara for you without you even having to come out of your hidey-hole,” Kojiro wheedled. He watched Kaoru’s expression turn contemplative, and for the first time, he thought this might actually work.
He continued to hype up his offer. “Come on, it’ll be like DoorDash, except you won’t even have to order it. It’ll just show up in your kitchen and your reclusive ass won’t have to interact with a single human being. And you don’t have to pay.”
“I don’t pay anyway,” Kaoru sniffed, but despite his initial rebuff, he did seem interested in the offer.
Kojiro had him on the hook. Now he just needed to reel him in. “I’ll throw in some of those parmesan cookies you like,” he tempted, deciding to try out a persuasive eyebrow wiggle just to seal the deal. It was a risky move with the potential to blow up in his face–-Kaoru was generally immune to such tactics, after all–-but Kojiro was feeling lucky tonight.
After several seconds Kaoru heaved a sigh and crossed his arms in resignation. “Fine. I’ll consider it,” he said before turning around again. “Now get out of my house.”
Kojiro continued after him, grinning with satisfaction. Too easy. He’d definitely won this round.
The next few weeks were so busy for Kojiro that he hardly had time to text Kaoru at all. They saw each other at S, of course, but lately Kaoru seemed to only be watching the main race of the night and then leaving early. Kojiro generally stayed until things started winding down, but more often than not he was too distracted by the beautiful women hanging off of his arms to actively seek out Cherry Blossom.
This resulted in their text exchanges becoming minimal, often only one sentence a day (or sometimes a single word from Kaoru)... but Kojiro was satisfied with that. It was much better than not hearing from Kaoru at all, and the bare-bones responses he did get were no cause for alarm. That was just Kaoru, and as long as he was replying at all, Kojiro wasn’t worried.
What did worry him was when the responses suddenly changed one day.
Kojiro had closed Sia la Luce up for the night and headed home, collapsing onto the couch as soon as he got his shoes off and stepped into the living room. He settled onto it with his head on the armrest and his legs dangling off the other side, phone in hand as he opened up his texting app and sent a message to Kaoru.
After hitting send he rested his phone on his chest and closed his eyes. He was used to getting a response back several minutes–-or even hours–-later, but to his surprise, his phone buzzed almost immediately as soon as he put it down. Maybe it had been one of those funny situations where they coincidentally texted each other at the same time.
Kojiro picked up the phone and read the reply, his eyebrows instantly furrowing. He read it over again.
That was… interesting. Kaoru hardly ever asked Kojiro how he was in return. More often than not it was just one word, or in some admittedly amusing situations, a middle finger emoji. On the other end of the spectrum, Kaoru might sometimes send a novel-length text recounting his terrible appointment with some loathsome old witch, and how she wouldn’t stop changing her mind every ten seconds about what she wanted commissioned. Kojiro considered all of that normal, but Kaoru asking how his day had gone was… odd.
His fingers danced over his on-screen keyboard.
This time Kojiro didn’t put his phone down, his eyes glued to the screen as he watched another message from Kaoru instantly appear.
Kojiro stared at the words with confusion and a mounting sense of unease. “Yeah, that’s not right,” he said out loud, rolling over and hefting himself up into a sitting position. It was one thing for Kaoru to speak all uppity and proper to his clients, but he wasn’t polite towards Kojiro. That just wasn’t how their relationship worked.
And once again, an instantaneous response:
Suddenly everything clicked, and Kojiro’s shoulders lowered from where he’d been rigidly holding them up. “Carla,” he breathed, rolling his eyes and slumping down on the couch again. “I should have known.”
It was obvious now that Kaoru was using some sort of auto-reply system by way of Carla, and while it wasn’t particularly surprising he had set something like that up, that didn’t stop Kojiro from being annoyed by it.
Kojiro stared at the words on his screen. Kaoru wasn’t there right now? What the hell did that mean? His first thought had been that Kaoru had set this up as a sort of ‘away message’, but he quickly discounted the idea. If that was the case, it would be something more pragmatic and informative, clearly stating that he was unavailable and would return the sender’s text when possible.
What do you mean he’s not here? Kojiro began typing out, but he just as quickly deleted it all. There was no point in continuing to send texts if Kaoru wasn’t even reading them. He refused to argue with Carla over text, where Kaoru would likely read the entire conversation later and laugh at him for it. Instead he hit the call button and brought the phone to his ear.
After waiting for several long rings, Kojiro was eventually greeted by Kaoru’s voicemail.
“You have reached Sakurayashiki Kaoru. I apologize for missing your call. Please leave your name, reason for calling, and contact information, and I will return your call within normal business hours.”
“Hey dweeb, answer your phone,” Kojiro said into the receiver, immediately hanging up and calling again. It didn’t matter that it was outside normal business hours; if Kaoru saw it was Kojiro who was calling, he’d pick up… at least after a number of repeated attempts.
The second time around he was met with the same result. As soon as he heard the start of Kaoru’s voicemail, Kojiro hung up and tried again. To his surprise, this time it never rang. It didn’t go straight to voicemail either, as if Kaoru had deliberately rejected the call. Instead, he heard what was unmistakably Carla’s voice.
“Master isn’t here right now.”
“Yeah, you said that before,” Kojiro muttered impatiently. “So, what? He’s out at the store and forgot his phone or something?”
Carla didn’t respond right away, and in his mind’s eye Kojiro could practically see her purple light pulsing as if she were ‘thinking’. Sure enough, a couple of seconds later she continued. “I’m sorry, my previous response appears to have been misleading. Master is physically present in his home. But he is not here.”
Kojiro was suddenly struck by that same feeling of unease from earlier. He had already gotten up from the couch and started getting his shoes on. “What the hell does that mean?” he demanded, able to hear the slight alarm in his own voice. He hoped Carla wasn’t capable of picking up on it.
“Master is not in control right now.”
Kojiro froze, feeling like he’d just been doused with ice water. “What the hell does that mean?!” he repeated, alarm elevated to borderline panic. He grabbed his motorcycle keys and helmet, rushing out the door and continuing to speak before Carla could reply. “If he’s not in control, then who is?”
Again, a few agonizingly long seconds passed before Carla’s voice spoke clearly into Kojiro’s ear, answering his question with two cheerful, matter-of-fact words.
“I am.”