Strangers When We Meet

Shigure opened the closet. He stared at its contents. "Uh..."

Stella mimicked him. "Uh..." She said, because she was mimicking him.

He karate-chopped her. "I won't ask why everything's rolled at the bottom instead of on a coat hanger. I should, but I won't. Just... get some shoes."

She did; they lay at the bottom of the closet, under the clothing-rolls. Stella put them on.

"Green shoes. Red pants. Orange dress."

"Isla chose my attire. He said it's the latest fashion in Europa—the satellite."

"I see."

That sounded even more judgmental than The Stare. Stella tugged at the sleeve of her orange dress. She wore a striped shirt below, too. Isla had even shown her a fashion runway. Called it avant-garde. Stella didn't know what avant-garde was. "...fine, you can choose."

"Wait, why? You're fine. Wear whatever you want. I just wanted you to get shoes."

"No."

"...or don't. Whatever."

"You lied," Stella told him. "You implied you didn't know about fashion, but you're frivolously wasting government money on—"

"Hey, now. I'm paying this on my own."

"—expensive suits which look functionally the same as cheap ones, which means that you do care about your appearance."

"Well, yes," he said, "but that doesn't mean I can help you choose what to wear. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm not a woman."

"Neither am I. I'm an android."

Shigure rolled his eyes.

"Hmph."

"Next, your hair." So he was just going to ignore that, huh? "Since it's wavy, thick and so long, it's not a good idea to just let it dry and do nothing to it. Let me see if there's a scrunchie here or something."

"I'm wearing underwear."

"Very cool, Stella. Fuck. There's nothing here. That's what I get for trusting the brochure." He slipped the thin ribbon off his hair, then motioned for her to turn around. Stella felt him doing something to her hair. "What they told me was that this place had a change of clothes while you built your own wardrobe, so that's why they're loose or stretchy."

"My chest feels tight against them."

"Very cool, Ste..." Shigure trailed off. Stella heard him sigh. "...in any case, we'll take care of that, too. You could just hire a stylist or something. Yeah, no. Let's get a comb."

"There's none."

"...seriously..." He always said that word under his breath, in that exact tone. "Let me see what I can do. We'll get this sorted out tomorrow."

"We?"

A pause.

"We?" Stella insisted.

"I... Stella, I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but why are you so attached to me?"

Oh, no.

Those words again.

Stella fidgeted. He couldn't see this, so it was fine. "I'm not."

"The supervisor told me the situation was 'urgent' and that I needed to return. Why do you think they even let me out of the cell?"

"The cell?"

"Because your happiness is their priority. But like... is there nobody else, Stella? The people here seem lovely. Uh, if a bit naive. Whatshername... Rebecca also seemed friendly. I'm not sure why there's multiple three-story high stacks of flour around the neighborhood and I sure won't ask, but if no one has even questioned them, then I think you'll fit in just fine."

They were always like this.

But they were right. Maybe. Goodbyes were a part of life. To grasp someone so tightly that the relationship crumbled hindered rather than helped. In general, being too friendly seemed to bring nothing but adverse effects. And Stella was friendly, wasn't she? Because she tried to be. She tried to be good. But what could she know about morality?

"It's not that I dislike you," Shigure said, "but I can't be here for long. Understand?"

"Understood."

"It's not like I want to leave, but..."

"You left last time," Stella blurted out. "On your own. I'm not attached. I don't care. I didn't ask to be repaired anyway. I would've been fine not existing. There's no point. The reason I was built for no longer exists. The person I was built for no longer exists. Nothing I cared about exists anymore. I didn't ask for this, yet I get thrown into a strange world full of people I don't know, and I get told that's 'happiness'. It's not! You guys should've just let me..."

How embarrassing and illogical. And silly. That's what he was probably thinking. "From what I've read," Shigure said instead, "Certain models were built to be loyal, so... I think there were like... two...? That got repaired? Those gave 'them' a lot of trouble. One of them sat next to the tomb of the general he served for months. Your model wasn't meant to be like that, though."

"No. The ones you speak of were bodyguards. I was built to be on the front lines."

"...which is why 'they' flagged this as unexpected behavior."

"What? That I'm not running around trying to kill everything in sight?"

It wasn't a joke, but he laughed anyway. "I didn't think you'd get this angry."

"I'm calm."

"You're not."

"Fine. I'm not. But you're not any better."

"Agreed."

She couldn't even be mean without Shigure ruining it. Why didn't he fight back? He kept struggling to somehow fit her mass of hair into that tiny piece of string. "You have a fungal infection," she said. "That's stinky."

"Where, exactly?"

"Your hair."

"That's dye. There you go." There she went: the mass attached to her scalp had finally been tamed into a bun. Some strands framed her face, but that was acceptable. "Just don't shake your head too m—" He immediately grasped her head. Shigure must've known her better than Stella thought. How could he have possibly predicted she'd defy his orders? "—uch. Knew it."

Stella turned around anyway. He was strong, but he was human. Shigure being Shigure didn't seem that impressed by this. With him sitting on the bed—the room was that small—she was the taller one, for once. Not by much. He looked at her while she looked at him, but his head was tilted to the side, just a bit.

"I know," she said. Shigure blinked, as though snapped out of something. "I'm being unreasonable. I'll work on it."

Now his hand was on her shoulder. Shigure shook his head, looking away.

"Intentions unclear. You'll have to decodify."

That made him smile. "Let's go to the party," he said, "Wife, dearest."

"Understood. Shigure."

"...sheesh."

Isla was still tapping at the living room. "I'll join you guys in a bit," he said. "Stella, did you let him in on the plan yet?"

"No," Stella replied. "He said he'll leave soon."

"Huh? Really?"

"Really," said Shigure.

"...ughhh... then I have to rewrite this whole thing.... actually, no, I don't. Didn't 'they' re-assign you as her social worker?"

"Not that I know of."

"What, so they just approved your emergency trip for no reason?"

He shrugged. Shigure's hands were on his pockets again. If he was on the phone, this was when he would've hung up. Silly.

It was the first time Stella saw Isla frown. No—scowl. Straight at Shigure. It reminded her of a chihuahua. "Well," he said, "What do you want, Fuyukawa?"

'Nothing.' Shigure didn't say that.

"What do you want, Stella?"

"Nothing," Stella said.

Isla sank into the cushions. From within them, he spoke: "I don't get you guys. You were waffling about each other yesterday. I don't GET it."

'I didn't ask for anything.' Shigure didn't say that. 'Didn't ask for help. Didn't ask to get brought back to 'life'. I'd be happy rotting on my own, but you guys won't let me. I don't like it. Leave me alone. I hate you Stella.'

 "Let's go," he said instead.

"Oh, yeah, speaking of which, why the newlyweds roleplay? I won't report this or anything. Just curious. Hey? Hello?"

They left without responding. Was it a good idea to ignore one's supervisor? Not during times of peace, apparently.

'Peace.'