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Tracking down Mink had been no easy task, even for Clear.
The man really did not wished to be found and the labor of getting this close was probably more than most humans could withstand. Thinking of the peace of mind to come was what allowed the robot too preserver. He had to know the truth of the matter, to not have it delivered as to soften the blow, brutal honesty would give him serenity.
Clear stopped to assess, sucking in huge breathes of mountain air, his mechanics set to work processing through the different scents. It was easy now to identify that distinct smell, like the hard candies Grandfather set out in fancy bowls, the ones that registered as spicy on his tongue. In the same manner he could follow Master’s voice – he could follow Mink’s scent.
This forest was brimming with that cinnamon aroma. It made it difficult to pinpoint where exactly the epicenter of the scent was. However, he had not journeyed this far for not.
By the time he’d reached a small hovel buried deep within the wood, night had fallen, and he wondered if it was appropriate to knock this late or if he should wait outside until dawn. He didn’t have time to ponder long as his ears detected a rustling in the woods followed by a knife to his throat. The robot didn’t struggle or make to move because before even his advance hearing picked up sound his smell was overwhelmed with the burn of cinnamon.
“Why are you here Gas Mask?”
The deep baritone was further reassurance to Clear. This is what he had traveled so far for.
“You,” Clear started, unsure how to make sense of his thoughts, “would not lie? Even to spare my feelings?”
Mink released a breath and brought his weapon down. Although his voice was stern when he spoke again, somehow, too Clear, the air around him seemed bemused.
“Especially not to spare your feelings.”
Already Clear’s mind felt lighter. He was almost done shouldering his burden, by tomorrow he would have a definite and he could continue from there, irregardless of the answer. For now he allowed Mink rest assuming his favored position on the roof and singing lightly throughout the night.
Mink came to get Clear not too long after sunrise. Although this is what the android wanted being faced with the task now felt unnerving.
“Grandfather told me that I should never remove my mask: that I had a monster’s face.” He remembered the way Aoba had looked at him. Not with disgust but with affection. “I learned at Glitter that I did not – Aoba showed me. But then after the fight I broke.” Clear’s gloved hands ran over the edge of his still bandaged face. “Noiz did the best he could to repair me and I do not hold animosity towards him but with the parts he could scrap together…”
Clear fully grasped at his bandages and with one deft move tore them away.
“I have read of a monster named Frankenstein who was stitched together with many different pieces. Am I now a monster as such?”
The robot’s voice trembled but he stood firm looking right into the native man’s eyes. He would take the hurtful truth over sweet lies. If he needed to hide his face from the world again so be it. This was his resolve.
Mink did nothing for a long time. He took time to really look at Clear without the mask, without the bandages. Honestly the man had never even seen the android’s face before but he could picture in his mind how it looked without the rudimentary repairs. The right side had clearly gone through the most damage. Whatever material Noiz used to repair was tanner then the porcelain skin surrounding it and the welding marks while minimal were still visible even from a few feet away.
“Battle did this to you?” Mink inquired, mostly to himself.
His head inclined a fraction and he stepped forward grasping Clear’s chin with an odd gentleness and turning his head from side to side.
“Was your cause worth these scars?”
Clear’s answer was instantaneous. Of course it was, he had saved his beloved Master’s life, fulfilled his purpose, and brought great pride to his Grandfather.
Mink made sure Clear’s eyes locked with his so that when he spoke the robot could see the ferocity in his words.
“Then wear them with honor.” He continued. “The face before me is not one of a monster. It is that of a brave warrior, a human, of a man that has stood for something bigger than himself. Imperfection is the mark of humanity.”
Imperfection is to be human? The thought resonated with Clear. It made sense in the most simplistic of ways. To be human was to be flawed. He felt like he was set free all that he had worked for, strived, and sought after was to be human and now that he understood what that meant he could be it.
But could it really be that simple?
Clear looked to Mink for reassurance and he found it in the man’s face. It was in the hard lines around his mouth, the way his eyes crinkled, the fine lines growing on his forehead. The older man wasn’t like the others. His body wasn’t flawless it was weathered and beaten but Clear could see now that those little things were perfect in their own way.
The android was overcome with wonder. He wanted to discover every scar on Mink’s body, wanted to hear the story behind each one, to find out what causes were worth it and what ones were not. His fingers were met with no resistance. Clear found that the native man had an extraordinary amount of patience but not a lot of restraint as broad fingers danced across his body with equal excitement.