Chapter Text
The room was hollow, a faint flicker of the light above was the only moving thing around.
The streets were loud and ruthless, violently shining their cyan, reds and pinks into the dark room, the only thing illuminating the two still bodies inside.
One sat idly on the windowsill, while the other sat slumped on a velvet sofa in front.
The smell of bitter smoke filled the room, and the woman let out a solemn, calm breath.
“How are you doing?”
She gently glided her fingers down his bare back, her red, conflicted irises looking at his scarred, stitched-up spine. Her voice contrasted with her tense body language; it’s collected.
The man didn’t move an inch, not even a shiver. His muscles locked into place, but he uttered a reply.
“I’m fine.”
He stared right ahead into the vast area that was supposed to represent a living room, but it lacked any comfort. His voice was rough and left no room for discussion, trying to detach from this conversation.
But she pried.
“Something’s wrong.”
She leaned in closer, her warm breath trailing down his chest.
“Was it the maintenance? Did something go wrong, your stomach?”
He didn’t respond, neither did he move. The woman began to grow more frustrated by the minute, her metal-like organs churning.
“Come on, speak to me…”
She leaned in closer; her head an inch away from his neck. The scent of fumes rubbed off on him as it inhaled it unwillingly, poisoning his cold insides.
“Quit smokin’ Mai. It’s bad for your lungs.”
The woman scoffed, withdrawing instantly. She stopped mid-smoke, the cigarette almost touching her chapped lips. She laid her head against the wall once more while the man sat still.
“Is that what this is about?”
She narrowed her eyes, a pit in her stomach forming that she refused to acknowledge.
“What lungs, Naomichi? The worst it’ll do is corrode my parts.”
He was aware of that, but it was that human instinct to preserve a beloved’s health that led him to say those words. They came out naturally, even if they weren’t true to their nature.
“The only thing alive are these dead man’s hands I’ve got, if that even counts. Besides, it’s not like I’m the one buying these cigarettes.”
“That’s out of habit.”
He retorted sharply, but shut his mouth tight straight after, there was no use arguing with her over a fair point she made.
“Right. I’ll keep that in mind, ‘A little habit’.”
She watched the swirl of smoke emit out the cig, while she tried to humor the situation, though it left her feeling ashamed and hypocritical. She then took the lit cigarette and sanded it onto her dry, foreign hands. It left a coarse residue on her fingers which she stared at blankly. She didn’t feel a thing, physically at least.
“...But you’re alive, ain’t you?”
He continued calmly. He wasn’t enraged by her remarks, the only thing that concerned him was the lack of empathy the woman felt towards herself.
The words were heavy, and sat on the woman's shoulders unbearably. She sat silently for a moment before replying.
“Mai’s been in a coffin for a year now.”
She murmured, a soft whisper of succumbence to her real identity. Her ‘usual’, melodious voice burnt out into a bitter tone that strained her chords.
“So what are you then, dead?”
“Should be.”
His shoulders sprung up, and his ragged voice echoed through the soundless room. Yet he didn’t turn to face her, his head jammed into place as he digested her cruel thoughts.
“Don’t fuckin’ say that Mai.”
“—Am I wrong?”
She snapped back almost instantly. Every syllable barely came out clearly, the intonation of her voice unstable. She let out an inaudible cough, and kept her eyes on the cigarette. The only secure thing in sight.
“I’m not even who I say I am…I’m a doll… A doll with who knows what purpose…! Who knows what I’m capable of…!”
The encapsulated air in the room was brittle, and Naomichi knew better than to raise his voice and break it easily with Mai’s fragile state.
“So? Then that applies to all of us, doesn’t it?
His tone was unusually kind, though argumentative. It was like he was handling an intricate, porcelain doll with the utmost care. One wrong note, word or move, and she could short-circuit.
“No, no I didn’t mean it like that…You’ve made a name for yourself, Naomichi. Look at you! You’re strong, and you’ve got a stable career. You also have the will to protect those you love; like Kanna, Anzu…Even in the Game, you showed every one that side of you, And I…”
“...Keep beatin’ yourself up over Q-Taro’s death. Is that it?”
He interjected, finishing the heavy sentence for her. The silence she engulfed herself with afterwards was enough for Kurumada to take it as an admission of guilt. He took a large breath, leaving little to no room for the woman’s shallow, hidden breaths.
He was aware of her struggles to come to terms with what happened within the games, everyone had suffered each to their own, but it was Mai who got the short end of the stick. She was the only one who truly inflicted harm upon another, under the false guise she’d survive.
It was common she’d have periods where she would feel down in the dumps, with guilt overriding her system. However she’d return ‘stronger’, and as cheery as before. A vicious cycle her automation forced her to endure, with no signs of actual improvement, a false face she wore.
Kurumada was always present. He couldn’t go a day without knowing how this woman was faring, because he knew of her destructive coping mechanisms. He didn't want her to do anything that could get her killed, because he firmly believed she didn’t deserve that unjust end for something she inevitably couldn’t prevent.
Even if he wasn’t the most comforting presence, he’d knock it into her head countlessly that the world isn’t black-and-white and only sees her for her actions within a game that could’ve cost her ‘life’.
“It’s not fair you’re puttin’ the blame all on yourself, Mai. That was our task, not just yours. We all would’ve done it sooner or later.”
Mai choked out a laugh, despair consuming each croak that came out of her throat.
“You wouldn't have, anyway…”
“...You’re just too lovely, Naomichi…You always know what I’m feeling and why…”
Her voice cracked with every prolonged, muffled word. Trying desperately to stray away from the topic.
“Quit focusin’ on me, and focus on yourself for once.”
His voice rose in urgency, he didn’t enjoy this selfless mindset she held, the sweet words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He could feel his mechanical muscles cramping from every stubborn word she kept letting out, his leg jittering violently off the wooden planks.
Then finally, he twisted his head and saw the crumpled, defeated woman.
Her hands were pressed tightly up against her mouth, so no sound could come out as the tears streamed down her face ruthlessly. She was as quiet as a mouse, but her whole body was shaking to the point any part of her could combust at any moment. The lit cigarette laid calmly beside her, slowly burning out, its short life coming to an end.
“Woah…Easy, easy…!”
He instantly clasped his hand on her cold, pulsing leg. He grabbed the cigarette with his other hand and crushed it into dust. He carelessly wiped the particles onto the velvet sofa as his magenta eyes were only focused on her deteriorating state. He made sure nothing could set her alight, putting out her flame; fire and water being two key catalysts.
He got rid of one easily,
“Breathe, talk to me Mai, what’s up…?”
but he knew it'd be tougher to get rid of the other, because she didn’t even say a word.
…How could a robot comfort another of its kind?
One that tries to adapt to his situation, trying to live a human life. While the other drives further down a path of dysphoria, a self proclaimed murder-machine.
Yet, they were wired the same way. The same metal bones installed in every corner of their shells.
Their hearts were made of the same scrap, though functioned like a pure human being’s would.
They were made of junk, and felt the weight of that immensely, yet couldn’t help but naturally act as humane as they could.
Because when Mai inevitably reciprocated his gaze, she saw a familiar sight.
Under his eyes laid his emotional baggage, dull dark marks etched into his features. Even with the fatigue he may bear, his eyes glimmered and coexisted desperately with the beaming pink lights outside.
Then she looked down at his bare chest with her blurry eyes, the new stitches freshly sewn into his skin; the way some wires were still poking out, and the mending was uneven, an ashy scar traced all along his body.
Clearly, his repair didn’t go smoothly. They had so many moments like these, where she’d lie on the windowsill while he sat in front of her quietly, but he never once mentioned any faults with his operations, even when Mai probed. She was always met with small reassurances as they indulged in their silent, shared tranquility.
It was clear he was suffering too, and he tried to fill that void with normalcy. Trying his hardest to retain any sort of humanity of the man’s identity he took, even if the world was rubbing it into his face that he was just solid metal. It was like she saw herself in him through her twisted lens: Someone who just wanted to live a decent life, but had to carry the burden of being a doll.
He hissed at her prying eyes, synthesized sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. He didn’t want her diverting her attention to him again, and for her to blissfully ignore her loose ends. His protruding wires could wait, and he didn’t want them to spiral her already meddled identity, he craved to be as human as he could in that moment.
“Stop… Lookin’ at that. Speak to me Mai, fuck…!”
He extended his arms towards her face, lightly cupping it, entrapping her in his direction. She leaned into the collision of their cold metal, her warm tears beginning to drip down his wrists.
“Oh I don't deserve this…”
Yet she shamefully yearned for the ignition of her fused heart.
A bittersweet smile teared into her features and her eyes fluttered shut. She then wrapped her arms around his neck as she swiftly buried her face into the sharp crook of it.
“I-It should’ve been him standing here today, not some piece of scum like me…! He was an actual breathing human with hopes and dreams for the future…!! And I cut that short…His blood all over these disgusting hands…”
“H-he actually had people to go home with…Like, K-keiji, and oh, Gin…”
The shame spilled out of her, every word bearing her raw, vulnerable heart. She clutched his neck tighter, praying he wouldn’t let her go despite her revolting actions.
He didn’t quite know how to proceed for a moment when she pulled him in closer, allowing her to make her issues known without interfering. He then looked down at her anguished state, pity rising in his system, believing he might’ve been a reason for this outburst.
After her voice faded away into heavy sobs, he provided her with the only comfort he was familiar with:
“...If people thought you were truly a murderer, then why are you alive right now?”
Small reassurances.
His hand hovered above her head until he found the energy to comb his fingers through her hair fibres. She gave no answer to his question, room for him to keep talking.
“He died saving the people he cared ‘bout. Whether you stabbed him or not, he probably would’ve sacrificed himself either way. You just gave him an opportunity.”
The words were blunt, but the tone was soft. He was presenting her the truth, but not the contorted version Mai built around her sorrow.
“...You did stab him, though. No sugarcoatin’ that.”
“But didn’t he then spend the last bit of his life cooperatin’ and forgivn’ you? He knew what you were doin’ wasn’t out of will, so why do you act like it is?”
“Y-you’re not wrong…He d-did do that…I didn’t want to…”
She mumbled through troubled breaths, her program still conflicted on how to respond to a situation like this.
“You acted because you wanted to survive. So now don’t give me that bullshit that you ‘Don’t-wanna-live’ or ‘Don’t-deserve-to-live’. ‘Cause knowin’ ‘Taro, he would want you to live the damn life you want to, he wants all of us to.
“…And I’m tryin’ to.”
Even when any hope of being human fell out of Kurumada’s grasp, when he felt the hollowness in his body, or stared at it in the mirror endlessly, he wanted to make the most of this life he’s been graciously given.
“I cover this scar up every damn day so I can just forget about the fact I’m not who I say I am. Because it fuckin’ feels like I’m bringin’ shame to the actual guy…You feel like that too, don’t you? Just your scar’s ‘Taro’s death.”
She sniffled, his words reflected exactly how she felt. Yet, she didn’t know how to formulate her feelings, but gave a reluctant response nonetheless:
“...I-I feel ashamed even calling myself Mai everyday, she would’ve never done what I did…But, it just feels right…”
She whispered.
A silent, guilty pleasure that held both of them together like glue. Even if they were just phonies of the names they bore, they couldn’t help but feel resonated with them.
“That’s why I’m still Naomichi.”
“ We’ll never be who we are, but that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a life, Mai. We’re still…Livin’.”
“...If you like the name Mai, keep it, it’s all yours. Because ain’t no one gonna dictate you on what to do now, we’re free, remember? This ain’t the Death Game.”
His voice grew stronger and rougher, though his soothing gesture slowed into gentle stroking. His eyes laid comfortably on her as he could see progress: Her body stopped trembling, though her tears were still streaming, however at a lower pace.
“The people around you don’t love the woman that died in the first trial. They love you, Mai. Anzu, ‘Taro, Me, I love you. So stop rejectin’ that love just because you feel you ain’t ‘living up to her name.’”
“The name doesn’t define you. You ain’t the Mai you’re thinkin’ of, but you’re still a Mai nonetheless. So instead of pretendin’ you’re a dead woman, decide; you gonna sulk and waste your life away, or tell me your dreams and we’ll make ‘em happen?”
The dense air came to a halt, and it felt like time stopped upon Mai hearing those words. Her mind calculated the right time to open her eyes, to stare at the spacious, empty room in front of her. His order held volumes of conviction she wasn’t aware he was able to store, it was raw, it was human.
She then took a calmed, well-deserved breath, a small smile attempted to slither along her lips.
“...What are your dreams? I’m sure they’re what I desire, too.”
Kurumada shook his head before letting out a chuckle. His warm breath radiating off her hair as he automatically kept caressing over its lusciousness.
“Always so courteous, ain’t’cha? My dreams, we’re goin’ halfsies on ‘em now…”
“I guess it’s just to make the most outta this scrap. Live under my rules, and do whatever shit I want to and when I want to.”
Mai just huffed, a homely, affectionate melody amidst the cold, resentful atmosphere created by the very same woman. Familiarity washed over her, as she recognised the careless, loving man who held her tight. The one who created the blanket of comfort that slowly melted the ice between them.
“...That ain’t all though, lemme finish.”
“My dream is for this woman to realise she ain’t gotta bear nothin’ alone, and someone’s willin’ to deal with her ass until his battery goes kaput.”
He teased, though every word was underlaid with unwavering devotion; his sarcasm being serious, and his profanity only used to invoke a light-hearted reaction.
It worked as she began to giggle into his shoulders, weight becoming bereft on hers.
“Our dreams are alike then…I’d like to live a lovely life; bake for others and take care of the people I love, gaze at the shining stars…Preferrably with you around…”
“ –Then I’ll make it happen. Stars and whatnot.”
He shrugged as the woman let go of him, retreating to the windowsill. This time her movements were more relaxed and smooth.
“You better keep that vow.”
“ —I don’t intend on breakin’ it, so how about we start right now? Let’s bake some good shit together.”
He eagerly suggested, already wanting to get up from the sofa even if the dark of night just fell, dusting himself off before turning to her.
“...I won’t be able to taste it though…”
She added, a little bit of melancholy resurfacing in her tone. But Kurumada instantly shot it down as quickly as it came back up.
“Me either, but you know who will? Those brats like Kanna, and Gin. Let’s make somethin’ insane, so they scream and beg for more.”
Mai’s eyes softened and comfortably rested her body on the sill, using her shaky fingers to wipe off the remains of her ‘tears’. She shook her head in teasing disagreement, a cool feeling as she took in the now lighter air.
“You’ve got a big ego for someone who can’t bake.”
Kurumada scoffed before pointing at his chest. His finger was slightly trembling but he swallowed it down, humoring his dehumanising state instead of wailing over it;
“I’ll just connect these wires to my phone so I gain all the brains.”
Mai grinned, twinged with amusement yet concern over his remark. Any mention of their situation still sent a shot through her vessel, no matter if it was light-hearted.
“...Don’t actually do that, I’ll just teach you.”
“Suit yourself.”
She nodded enthusiastically, but didn’t move one bit yet. Something still gnawed at her mind, and Kurumada could see it with the look in her eye; the way her lenses refused to look his way and instead focused on the window, lost in thought. He didn’t utter a word, but patiently gave her space to express her concerns, she took the hint instantly.
“...Do you think, if we were who we said we were…Like, Mai and Naomichi…We’d still be spending time like this, together…Or would we have not even met, or hated each other…?”
His eyes lingered at her pensive, fidgeting form, and he pondered over the question for a moment before replying:
“Does it matter? We’re still Mai and Naomichi. If we’re built to be like ‘em, then I’m sure as hell I’d be gushin’ over you. Don’t doubt that one bit.”
He smirked, feeling a wave of pride being able to speak so highly about Mai in her presence.
Mai twirled her hair with her frail fingers, but held a strong smile of solace. She crawled out of her hiding spot, and instinctively got Kurumada to do the same.
“Oh, by the way…The rest of those are in the bottom drawer, make sure to throw them out for me, alright? No smoking for you too.”
It was likely she wouldn’t have the ‘guts’ to do it herself, still convinced she’d inevitably fall back into her old patterns as if it were a part of her design, but she felt inclined to try break free from it. Especially since she’s got someone who bears the same scars as her, ready to mutually aid each other in darker times.
“Wasn’t plannin’ to anyway. Not a problem, Mai.”
He beamed and waved his hand at her, gesturing for her to catch up as he sped away into the bright kitchen.
“Now get movin’, these cakes ain’t gonna bake themselves!”
After what felt like an eternity, the air felt free from any shackles of their pain.
Their metallic feet freely moving along the wooden tiles, their laughter echoing through the room.
They may not be human,
But that doesn’t mean they don’t yearn for connection.
Activities, words of reassurance, care, any sort of touch is all their love-depraved hearts craved.
Anything that’d warm up their fake insides with a feeling they couldn’t get anywhere else.
It was love,
It was intimate,
But most of all,
It was real.
Because connection is what brings two people together, no matter what they’re made of.
