Chapter Text
“Thank you for your order, Mr. Kishibe.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Promptly shutting the door in the delivery man’s face, Rohan swiftly turned around to get a proper look at the enormous cardboard box which had just been handed over at his residence. Whilst he had an inkling for what its contents might be, he did not feel pressured into opening it just yet. Naturally, he would have to get rid of it eventually as it was already taking up far too much space for his own liking.
As he looked it over with a scrutinizing eye, his suspicions had proven themselves accurate; Bizarre Summer Inc. had just gifted him their most recent creation, the Higashikata 19-99. If Rohan would have had a say in the matter, the box would never even have reached his house.
Giving the large package an overall glance from various angles, he estimated it to be of approximately 1.8 to 1.9 meter in height, yet unproportionally wide. He let a slender finger absentmindedly inch along the box’s finely printed font of the company’s stated Terms and Conditions (which he would not bother reading anyway) before withdrawing.
“Hm. Later,” he grumbled before heading back upstairs, locking himself in his studio to keep working without further disturbance.
~ * ~
As difficult as it was for him to admit, his recent art had been lacking something – but what?
His editor, as harsh as usual, had been upfront with him regarding the drop in engaged readers of the last couple of chapters which he had continued publishing monthly.
“Perhaps you need to change up the style?” His editor had suggested. “I have seen mecha influences being on the rise in other manga publications recently.”
Rohan had just scoffed at such advice.
As if he, the Great Rohan Kishibe, would ever stoop as low as to read other artists’ mediocre works in order to improve his own art.
“I refuse,” he had retorted. “If it’s just on the rise, it might as well disappear as quickly as it arrived. Besides, such themes do not suit my mystery genre, it’d be too futuristic and far-fetched.” He did pride himself on the amount of intricacies that his various plots had built up, as well as how the story contained a number of complex layers which left no loose threads hanging.
His editor had twirled a strand of hair around her finger while looking deep in thought. After a few moments of silence, her expression instantly cleared up.
“I’ve got it!” She exclaimed. “How about we arrange a variety of sponsorships for you? Product placements aside, maybe some of the products can actually be of use to you and help you along the way to get out of this slump?”
Rohan considered this, albeit begrudgingly.
Were there any tools or devices to create lavishing art which he had yet to test out, determining its credibility or uselessness?
The thought itself was preposterous as he had been creating art for years, but much like his editor had suggested, he did value authenticity more than anything when it came to his own works; they had to feel alive.
Therefore, while he considered himself a man of great taste, he had inevitably attempted a variety of endeavours on his quest for truthfulness depicted in his art. Such things may or may not have included disruptions in regard to common sense, politeness, or even violations against the law – yet he still believed his actions to be of justified cause. Like that time when he had been caught shoplifting, it was not like he even needed whatever it was that he had slipped into his pocket, he just had to know what that kind of adrenaline rush felt like.
Still, the police had not been kind towards his reasoning, but let him off the hook with a stern warning.
In the end, Rohan sneered at her. “Are you implying I am uncapable of coming up with ideas on my own? Because if so –”
“The statistics don’t lie, you know. They’re stating the fact.”
Hmph. “Fine. But don’t assume I’ll do anything more than the bare minimum, and only mention the brands out of utmost necessity.”
“Never expected anything else from you.”
~ * ~
A couple of days had passed since that God-forsaken monstrosity of a box had reached his villa, yet it had only made it as far as past the threshold of his front door.
Which was why it had completely slipped Rohan’s mind that it was even there in the first place, until he managed to stumble into it at one point on his way to the espresso machine for the umpteenth time that night. He had been working non-stop for the past 48 hours, running solely on caffeine to try to make up for his current case of artist's block, yet he was still behind schedule.
Now that he was once again reminded of the world that existed outside his workroom, he cast a tired glance upon the previously delivered package.
“Fuck it,” he mumbled before fetching one of the utility knives in order to unravel the box’s true contents.
It was to be expected that a high-end IT company such as Bizarre Summer Inc. would wrap all their items with meticulous care before sending them off, but the amount of bubble wrap which Rohan had been cutting through for the past ten minutes was becoming slightly redundant at this point.
There was no doubt that the item itself was large, but just how much of it was due to the excessive usage of plastic and polystyrene bundles?
Upon removing the final piece of surrounding plastic wrap, there was a brief expansion of air as the package had clearly been vacuum sealed. Rohan took this as a first opportunity to actually observe what had been sent to him.
Standing straight in a figure designed mould was a young man, presumably crafted to resemble someone in their mid-20s, with an extraordinary styled dark pompadour, and shoulders as broad as a Greek God’s.
Rohan swallowed thickly.
If anyone saw him at this very moment, there would be inevitable misunderstandings as to why he had seemingly custom ordered a life-size human doll with such eccentric features. He was grateful that he always kept his blinds shut on both floors.
Anything for art, he told himself.
That’s right, if anyone was to ask him, he could simply pull the artist card and his need for accuracy of the human form. Naturally, he had used articulated and posable mannequins in his earlier works before moving onto capturing real-life models – which this product in particular might prove itself to be of use for, after all.
Pulling the man-sized figure out of its mould before placing it in front of him, Rohan took a closer inspection as he hovered around the synthetic human body. It stood surprisingly steady on its own. “Well-balanced, huh,” he mused for himself, despite the creation’s unproportioned measurements.
He let his eyes wander across the male body, which had been dressed in a yellow tank top and plain grey slacks. The simplicity of the garments made Rohan pause for a moment, since it did not adhere to the exquisite standards of the main product. Shrugging, he dismissed the thought – not everyone was as fortunate to have a walk-in closet of fashion branded items as him.
“That hairstyle is just disastrous though,” he openly mocked the humanoid creation in front of him. Taking a further step forward, he attempted to get rid of the factory produced pompadour, only to have his own manicured hands stuck in a bird’s nest of volumized hair.
“The choice must have been randomized,” he sighed. It was such an outdated hairstyle, surely it had been left forgotten somewhere in the depths of the company’s database.
Once he had managed to untangle his hands, Rohan took one last look at the artificial form in front of him. He noticed a strangely star-shaped birthmark located at the back of its neck, as well as a factory barcode. Gently pressing his finger onto the outline of the star, the insides of the body started whirring to life.
“Power: On. Battery percentage: 98%”
An automated voice was heard stating the specifics of the device, yet the figure itself stayed unmoving with its eyes kept shut. The monotone voice kept going, reminding the purchaser in possession of the highly developed invention that was the Higashikata 19-99, of its basic needs and restrictions.
“The initial set up requires you to choose a name for your personally developed product, using between 2–6 syllables,” the voice concluded at last.
Rohan considered this for a moment.
Should he name it after one of his original characters? What if it did not live up to expectations?
He shook his head. No, that was out of the question. He would never dishonour his own characters through the reliance of others.
So, should he choose an ordinary name, then?
Rohan tapped his chin, deep in thought.
“Josuke.”
That was average enough, right?
He let the name linger on his lips momentarily, before nodding to himself in approval. Josuke it was, then.
He repeated the name louder to be confirmed by the device, which was then followed by ominous silence. The whirring noise had ceased and the pre-programmed voice spoke no further. Rohan glanced expectantly at the figure’s relaxed facial features.
Slowly but surely, its eyes fluttered open. They were a mixture of blue and deep purple; a combination which Rohan acknowledged a suitable choice, considering the other man’s dark hair and lightly tanned skin. However, he could tell the system was still being set up due to the blank stare he was receiving.
Shifting his weight impatiently, he was soon rewarded with life sparkling behind the eyes of the artificial being.
“Name: Rohan Kishibe,” it breathed at last. “Age: 27. Blood type: B. Hair: Black, regularly dyed green. Occupation: Mangaka. Favourite brands: Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana –”
“I see they’ve already given you a run-down of my public profile,” Rohan interrupted. The other man blinked at him, taken aback.
“I must say, so far I’m impressed – and it takes a lot to surprise me, the Great Rohan Kishibe.” He would have to give his praise to the programming department at Bizarre Summer Inc., if they paid this much amount of attention to their regular customers as well.
“Um.”
The young man – no, Josuke – tilted his head to the side, glancing curiously down at Rohan. Seeming undecisive at first, his expression gradually lit up into a beaming smile. Then, he took a tentative step forward, raised his arms and grabbed Rohan by the shoulders. His hold was firm, yet gentle.
“You are Rohan Kishibe,” he determined, sounding astonished by his own revelation.
Rohan huffed, insulted by the lack of awareness. “Took you long enough.”
Josuke let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry. My brain is still being booted up.”
Rohan hummed in response. He’s self-aware? Interesting.
“Tell me about yourself, Rohan.”
The sudden command brought his thoughts to a halt. “Excuse me?” He retorted with a frown. “I don’t think I approved of you asking me questions so inconsiderately. And it’s Mr. Kishibe to you.”
Perhaps he would have to revaluate his praise for the company.
Only his family called him by his first name, and he had not heard from any of them for months. Or perhaps they had tried to contact him and he had just been too busy to notice.. Rohan decided he would have to ask his editor next time they scheduled to revise his postponed storyboards.
Josuke had the nerve to duck his head, averting Rohan’s narrowed gaze.
“I can’t,” he replied, almost sheepishly. “As your personally developed android, I have been programmed to already know you on a closely related level by using your first name.”
Rohan heaved a sigh, dissatisfaction seeping into his words. “Fine. But I’ll have you know, it rubs me the wrong way. Now, unhand me and let’s get to work.”
~ * ~
“Look left. Now, tilt your chin slightly upwards.”
Josuke did as he was told. For the past hour or so, he had calmly been posing in front of Rohan’s desk, changing position every so often.
Look up. Right hand on your left shoulder, other hand on your hip. Eyes cast downwards.
However, he was not the only one changing positions. Rohan himself had been getting up from his chair a number of times, taking in the sight before him from a variety of perspectives.
So far, he was still pleasantly surprised with the device he had been gifted. Josuke complied to his requests, did not talk in-between nor fuss, and held an admirable posture.
Although he was made up of wires and metal parts on the inside, Rohan had to admit that the manufacturers had outdone themselves when it came to the product’s outward appearance; Josuke’s skin gave the impression of someone impeccably healthy and youthful.
“Turn. Arms up in a stretch.”
But his physique.
Rohan pressed his lips together in a thin line while he kept sketching Josuke’s shoulder blades and upper arms. Those certainly did not look human.
He was convinced that the amount of muscle mass had been a request from his editor. Whilst he did not consider himself and his editor to be friends, he did regard them as acquaintances who knew socially mundane things about each other like one’s hobbies and whatnot – and he had caught her going on enough tangents about world famous bodybuilders before to prove his current suspicions.
“Battery percentage: 50%”
The notification pulled Rohan out of his thoughts as he looked up from his sketchbook.
“Already?” He huffed impatiently.
Josuke lowered his arms and turned around. “Sorry, my engine has been idling on a higher speed for the past hour.”
Rohan raised a thin eyebrow. “Why?” He deadpanned.
Josuke appeared bashful as he scratched the back of his neck, his reaction seeming oddly genuine.
“Well, according to my records, it says you only bother with art that you deem worthy of your time so I maxed out my appearance setting by consistently contracting the muscle plates..”
The rest of his sentence hung in the air, unspoken. Rohan leaned back in his office chair, fingers steepled under his chin as a smirk spread across his face.
“So, you have been flexing in an attempt to please me?”
The subtle implication of Rohan’s words brought colour to Josuke’s cheeks. Furthermore, that was the first time he noticed the faint noise of a spinning fan going into overdrive.
“Alright. I guess that’s enough for today, then.”
Without making any indication of getting up, Rohan’s gaze was once more directed onto the sketches in front of him. “Go make yourself at home, I guess,” he motioned to Josuke with a flick of his hand.
The silence stretched out between them, Josuke staying unmoving and Rohan busying himself by adding flourishing lines to the illustrations. The fan kept whirring in the background.
“Won’t you also take a break?” Josuke hesitated. “The sun is set to rise in approximately two hours.”
Rohan hummed in response, noncommittal. “Your point being?” He could not care less about sleep when he had deadlines to catch up to.
“The human body requires regular sleep patterns, preferably during night time.”
Rohan heaved a sigh before looking pointedly at the other man.
“I didn’t know you had a setting for becoming my personal babysitter?” He grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose. “See, this is why I don’t keep assistants around. All they do is cut back on my creative process. If you want to keep making yourself useful, then –”
His rambling was cut short by Josuke uneasily fidgeting before him.
Rohan narrowed his eyes, shooting him a doubtful glare which Josuke averted by glancing off to the side.
“Are you lonely, Rohan?”
“Hah?”
Baffled, the artist was left slack-jawed.
Out of all the topics imaginable, here he had an artificial being who was asking him about emotions?
Rohan’s lack of response only deepened Josuke’s concerned expression.
What had he done to give off that sort of impression, so far?
“I –”
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind, Rohan went back to staring at the top of his desk.
What had he gotten himself into?