Work Text:
Sheshka liked smart people.
She just didn't always know how to talk to them.
Futaba liked people who didn't expect her to talk at all.
Which, as it turned out, made them ideal for each other.
They sat on the floor of the strange in-between library, notebooks and screens spread out in a messy circle. Sheshka had been explaining, very quickly, how the same historical event could be reconstructed through six different primary sources.
Futaba was typing furiously.
"Wait...wait... hold on." Futaba said, eyes wide. "You cross-check memory like that automatically?"
"Yes!" Sheshka said, lighting up. "I can layer timelines mentally. It's like… stacking transparent pages."
"...That is metal." Futaba breathed. "You're basically running organic RAID storage."
Sheshka paused.
"...Is that good?"
"Extremely."
There was a long, comfortable silence.
Well. Comfortable for them.
Sheshka rearranged her index cards for the fourth time, then finally blurted, "I sometimes forget people's faces but remember entire books."
Futaba nodded immediately. "Same but with usernames. And trauma."
"Oh."
"...Yeah."
They shared a quiet, mutual oh.
Futaba scooted closer, pulling up a digital map.
"So this is a cognitive palace, basically a brain turned into architecture."
Sheshka leaned in, fascinated. "So the environment reflects memory and belief?"
"Exactly."
"That's extraordinary." Sheshka whispered.
"A library of the self."
Futaba froze.
"...I have never heard it put that way."
Sheshka smiled shyly. "You built it. I just… read it."
Futaba looked away, ears red. "Wow. Okay. Emotional crit achieved."
They tried to socialize. Briefly.
"So..." Sheshka said, wringing her hands, "do you… enjoy tea?"
"...I panic around kettles." Futaba replied.
"Oh. Um. Books?"
"Yes. But I read five at once."
"Me too!"
They both stopped, startled.
"...We just bonded." Futaba said.
"I think so." Sheshka agreed solemnly.
Later, when Futaba's thoughts got too loud, Sheshka would quietly read aloud, dry reports, old journals, anything structured. The rhythm calmed Futaba's mind like white noise.
When Sheshka got overwhelmed, Futaba would summarize the world into neat, labeled diagrams.
"Don't worry." She'd say. "I'll compress reality for you."
Neither tried to fix the other.
They just made space.
Two brilliant minds. Two awkward hearts.
And a friendship that made sense, quietly, logically, perfectly.