Baka-Tsuki - User contributions [en]

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 009 - An Empty, Incomplete Peace

2019-07-01T14:19:52Z

Jrdp 18:

"but fortunately Ink doesn’t seem to mind as she narrows her eyes with pleasure." That's really how it is in the original? 
Edit: [[OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 011 - Break The Night|v2c11]] has indicator ''Ink clamps her eyes ‘shut’''

"If she moves in a more or less straight line straight towards where the bodies were discovered she’ll be able to retrace her steps." Is the second 'straight' an excess?

Palace Garrison, Palace Barracks. Do these have different kanji or stuff? 
Other instances: 
[[OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 003 - The Slave Girl Has Nowhere To Run|v2c3]] Maybe if I go straight to the barracks they won’t notice me? 
[[OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 005 - The Squirming Spiral|v2c5]] Otilier has already dispatched soldiers from the Palace Garrison

== Chapter Title ==

In the main page, it's ''An Empty, Incomplete Piece'', here it's ''Peace''.

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 009 - An Empty, Incomplete Peace

2019-07-01T11:59:59Z

Jrdp 18: /* Chapter Title */ new section

"but fortunately Ink doesn’t seem to mind as she narrows her eyes with pleasure." That's really how it is in the original?

"If she moves in a more or less straight line straight towards where the bodies were discovered she’ll be able to retrace her steps." Is the second 'straight' an excess?

Palace Garrison, Palace Barracks. Do these have different kanji or stuff? 
Other instances: 
[[OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 003 - The Slave Girl Has Nowhere To Run|v2c3]] Maybe if I go straight to the barracks they won’t notice me? 
[[OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 005 - The Squirming Spiral|v2c5]] Otilier has already dispatched soldiers from the Palace Garrison

== Chapter Title ==

In the main page, it's ''An Empty, Incomplete Piece'', here it's ''Peace''.

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 009 - An Empty, Incomplete Peace

2019-06-30T14:43:42Z

Jrdp 18: Created page with ""but fortunately Ink doesn’t seem to mind as she narrows her eyes with pleasure." That's really how it is in the original? "If she moves in a more or less straight line str..."

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 008 - Powerlessness Will Always Haunt Us

2019-06-30T09:12:46Z

Jrdp 18: Created page with ""Origin is something that would try to harm us instead of hurt us…""

"Origin is something that would try to harm us instead of hurt us…"

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 005 - The Squirming Spiral

2019-06-29T13:09:46Z

Jrdp 18: Created page with ""Dawn breaks, and still his subordinate hasn’t returned. Hearing that Dane sets out to look for the man personally, hoping that it’ll be a good change of pace." How did Da..."

"Dawn breaks, and still his subordinate hasn’t returned. Hearing that Dane sets out to look for the man personally, hoping that it’ll be a good change of pace." How did Dane hear it?

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 001 - The Dastard Laughs

2019-06-25T00:53:28Z

Jrdp 18:

“Well, yeah, but that was her own fault to begin with. Marin and I just couldn’t stop laughing…” Just a note for this line if it's still not licensed by the time they're mentioned again with gender specifics. In the epilogue arc of the web version, Pyle is a guy and Marin is a girl. So "her" would be "his".

Are you talking about the web novel translation or the web novel itself? [[User:Cheesefluffy|Cheesefluffy]] ([[User talk:Cheesefluffy|talk]]) 19:26, 23 June 2019 (CEST)

The web novel itself. [[User:Jrdp 18|jrdp_18]] ([[User talk:Jrdp 18|talk]]) 15:31, 24 June 2019 (CEST)

Thanks for letting me know. I'll change it right away. I haven't read the web novel hardly at all, so I don't know about a lot of the behind-the-scenes stuff, so to speak. (^_^;) [[User:Cheesefluffy|Cheesefluffy]] ([[User talk:Cheesefluffy|talk]]) 19:01, 24 June 2019 (CEST)

That's totally fine. It also serves as personal note so I won't need to look for it later. [[User:Jrdp 18|jrdp_18]] ([[User talk:Jrdp 18|talk]]) 02:53, 25 June 2019 (CEST)

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 001 - The Dastard Laughs

2019-06-24T13:32:02Z

Jrdp 18:

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 001 - The Dastard Laughs

2019-06-23T08:54:39Z

Jrdp 18: Created page with "“Well, yeah, but that was her own fault to begin with. Marin and I just couldn’t stop laughing…” Just a note for this line if it's still not licensed by the time they'..."

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 2 Interlude - Of Black And White

2019-06-22T12:49:58Z

Jrdp 18: Created page with ""fame of riches", not "fame or riches"?"

"fame of riches", not "fame or riches"?

User talk:Cheesefluffy

2019-06-20T14:30:55Z

Jrdp 18: /* OmaeGotoki Editor */ new section

_____ ----- /\ | | / _____
| | | /--\ | |( | |
| | | / \ |___ | \ | |
_| |_ _| |_
\ / | | |---- |--\ |---- \ /
\ / |---| |-- |--/ |-- \ /
\ / | | |---- | \ |---- \ /
V V

== OmaeGotoki Editor ==

Hi, thank you so much for translating OmaeGotoki.

About your request, I shall decline. As a non-native there might be problems when editing large swaths of text, so I'm limiting myself on editing only minor stuff.

[[User:Jrdp 18|jrdp_18]] ([[User talk:Jrdp 18|talk]]) 16:30, 20 June 2019 (CEST)

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 1 011 - My Time There Wasn't Pointless After All

2019-06-10T06:38:37Z

Jrdp 18: Created page with "“It’s too late to thank me, su. If we don’t kill that thing we’re still dead, su.” Don't you mean early?"

“It’s too late to thank me, su. If we don’t kill that thing we’re still dead, su.” Don't you mean early?

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 1 002 - From The Curse, The Girl's Blessing

2019-06-08T06:10:37Z

Jrdp 18: Created page with "Two lines with starting with "No, you did do something wrong. Did you forget lying to me and letting that bastard run off with my money?" Sounds redundant."

Two lines with starting with "No, you did do something wrong. Did you forget lying to me and letting that bastard run off with my money?" Sounds redundant.

Talk:OmaeGotoki: Volume 1 001 - The End of the Girl Who Only Wanted a Normal Life

2019-06-07T02:00:16Z

Jrdp 18: Created page with ""after making some good process". Good progress? There's double of this line starting "With a Strength of zero". Leftover from editing?"

"after making some good process". Good progress?

There's double of this line starting "With a Strength of zero". Leftover from editing?

User:Jrdp 18

2019-06-06T12:20:02Z

Jrdp 18: Removed description.

Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 4 Days Before

2013-07-15T06:36:33Z

Jrdp 18: Revert cigarette to cirgarette.

===Four Days Before===

Sunday.

I am wearing a white dress with frills on it, checking my attire in front of the mirror.

I’m going on a date with Professor today. Well, just for a half-day date to a movie and lunch.

“Iris, we’re going soon~”

Came Professor’s voice from downstairs.

“Alright, I’m coming!”

I respond in a loud voice, putting on a large straw hat at the same time. The hat hides the antenna above my ears, so that there won't be curious kids shouting “Robot! It’s a robot!”

— Attire okay, hat alright, battery level full!

I hurry down the stairs after completing my last minute check.

Professor is standing at the front door, wearing her personal clothes.

— So stunning!

The blue shirt and green jeans are actually rather casual clothing, but since she’s quite tall, this shows off her exceptional figure. If there were a white horse beside her she would look just like a prince— but this analogy seems a little strange.

A silver cigarette case gleams in front of her chest. Having Professor’s favorite oblong cigarette case hung on a chain, it seems just like a necklace. The 8-shaped circlet cigarettes are kept in the case.

“Professor, how do I look?”

I twirl in a circle like a ballerina. The dress and the straw hat flutter gently in the breeze.

Professor narrows her eyes, as if dazzled by the sun and says “Mnn, it suits you.”

It suits you…… It suits you…… It suits you…… It suits you……. Professor’s words reverberate repeatedly in my mental circuits.

Ahh, just hearing that could make me happy all day.

“Let’s go then.”

Professor walks over while lifting her long hair. I hold her hand while standing beside her.

As the door is opened, the blue sky that makes one want to burst into song seems to be blessing us.

There are a lot of people at the cinema beside the station.

I show my robot certificate at the ticket booth, then the employees start to size me up. My antenna above my ear is hidden, so they are suspicious of me because they can’t tell if I’m a human or a robot.

It seems that the elevator is offline today; we pass by quite a few technicians at the entrance of the cinema. More than half of them seem to be labor robots, probably the HRL004 model from their appearance. Whichever it is, they're an old model.

Labor robots have been around even longer than family robots have. As more of them are sold in the market, they are more often seen on the streets. Waiters at a restaurant, night time security guards, attendants at the entrance hall of a company, carpenters — their uses are quite diverse.

Old family robots are also often sold in the second hand market and reused as labor robots. Young female robots usually enter the labor robot market this way. Recently, the people who combine second hand parts of robots to create a new robot to sell are increasing, and the hidden dangers of this have been noted as a problem to society. It is, by the way, against the law for unqualified persons to assemble a robot, similar to the fact that one can’t just assemble a car and drive it on the road.

After entering the cinema, Professor and I choose a seat towards the back of the room. We place the fruit juice and popcorn on the small table between the seats. After five minutes, the movie starts playing.

“Hey, Professor.”

“What is it?”

“Why are we watching a horror movie today?”

Two young women watching a horror movie alone seems strange. The other people in the seats are all man-woman couples.

“Analyzing the actions of the zombies could be used as a reference for the theory of movement control for robots.”

“Huh…… Theory of movement control……”

Professor is always passionate about her research. I can’t help an admiring thought: “As expected of Professor,” while a hint of mirth suddenly appears on the corner of Professor’s mouth.

“Eh, why are you smiling?”

“Nothing, Iris is really a good and honest girl.”

“Eh?”

I don't know why Professor praised me, but it pleases me anyway.

“That’s right, Professor. According to my investigations, the movie ‘This is a Fateful Encounter’ is the most popular movie, a touching masterpiece…… It’s rare that we come here, so do you want to watch that?”

“I say, isn’t that a romantic movie?”

“That would be fine, romantic movies.”

“The stereotypical contents are lame.”

“The- then what about a monster movie? Like ‘Monster Showdown: Vanilla vs Chocola’?”

“There’d probably be a lot of kids there. That won't do. They’d make a lot of noise when the movie is playing.”

“What about ‘Third-rate Demon God Visa Darke’?”

“Isn’t that a series? I didn’t watch its predecessors, so how would I know of its contents?”

“Uuuu…… You know that I’m scared of watching horror movies, right?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I puff out my cheeks and start to have a tantrum. Professor bursts into laughter when she sees me.

All of a sudden, a bell rings and the movie starts.

The long-awaited zombies shamble unsteadily forward from the movie screen.

And so.

“Not bad.”

Professor gives her impression of the movie, satisfied. It seems that she finds the visual effects of the horror movie adequate.

As for me, I have become a pale-faced robot with periodic violent spasms.

“Iris, are you okay?”

“H- h-h- how could I be okay! Wh- wh- wh- what is that, that movie cuts like bzzzt~ and springs up like dong~!”

Instead of saying that this is a horror movie, it’s really more a violent, bloody movie.

Halfway through the movie, I try to hug Professor quite a few times in fear but was pushed away by the expressionless Professor with her right hand.

I try to fling away the squirting blood, flying brains and squirming intestines burnt into my mental circuits by violently shaking my head, but even if I do so, the data obviously remain unchanged.

“Since our coming here is such a rare event, why don’t we take a commemorative photo?”

“Eh~ Here?”

After calling to a worker nearby, Professor passes her camera to him. It seems like she’s going to use the signboard of the horror movie ‘Nightmare~ Rotten Nightmare’ as a background to take our commemorative photo together.

“No, let’s take it some other place.”

“That won’t do. We watched a movie here today, so we must take it here.”

“We’ll be cursed if we take a photo here!”

“That isn’t a scientific reason.”

After grabbing my elbow tightly, Professor hugs my shoulders in front of the signboard.

Our bodies are tightly touching, and it would be a great moment if it were some other time. But right now, I just feel that the army of zombies from the signboard would jump out at any moment. Especially the zombies that had their lower bodies chopped off, their intestines poking out; I feel my whole body trembling just thinking of it.

“Okay, cheese!”

After shouting that, the worker presses the shutter.

Just like that, I am in a photo, my face deathly pale, squeezing out a smile; Professor, with a devilish smile on her face.

After eating lunch at a nearby restaurant, we take thirty minutes to buy the makings of dinner; then we return home.

On the way back home, Professor and I walk home hand in hand.

And now, Professor is reading the newspaper she bought from a newsstand. One of the contents is ‘Unit Composed of New Robot Model Utterly Annihilating Enemy’s Base.’

“Reading while walking is dangerous, Professor.”
[[File:Iord 050.jpg|200px|thumb]]
“It’s okay. I’m holding Iris' hand anyway.”

“Really……”

“It’s because the special report in the ‘Oval Times’ is so interesting that I can't resist. Crane Cloudy is one of the top researchers of robots in the world.”

Though Professor is still on a date with me, she is fascinated by the newspaper. I’m so jealous of the paper.

While dragging Professor, who’s holding her paper in one hand, we arrive at Venus Plaza.

— There it is.

About fifty meters from the plaza, it’s the shop. Its walls have been broken down, the ground is sunken, and there is also yellow tape on the outside, forbidding people from entering. This is the robot crime scene I saw from the news on the television.

“Hey, Professor.”

“Hmm?”

Professor finally shifts her attention away from the newspaper, raising her head.

“About that……” I point at the shop with the collapsed wall. Professor nods, answering immediately “The place where the robot rampage happened?” It seems that Professor knows of this as well.

“Why did the robot go on a rampage?”

I express my doubts about the matter.

Professor deliberately lowers her voice, answering: “I have an obligation to keep this secret, so I can’t answer you.”

“Eh?” I ask, confused. “An obligation?”

Professor smiles faintly and shrugs while saying: “I was just making fun of you.”

“The robot was sent to our research centre for dissection. And our group is in charge of it.”

I blinked in surprise. I never would have thought that the robot in the news would have any connection to Professor. While thinking about it, the agency that is the most specialized in robotic matters is the ‘First Robotics Laboratory of Oval University’ where Professor works at, so it’s natural that things would turn out this way.

“Then did you learn anything?”

“Mnn, yeah……”

Professor touches her chin lightly with her index finger.

“Put simply, we think it was ‘short circuit of the motor system causing the safety circuits to go haywire.’ Even so, we aren’t that clear about some points, as the robot was excessively damaged.”

Robots have a central group of circuits called the three main systems. They are the logic circuits, the movement control circuits, and the safety circuits.

Compared with a human, the mental circuits would be the brain, the movement control circuits would be the spinal cord and nervous system. The orders given by the mental circuits would be transmitted to the whole body though the movement control circuits, causing the limbs to move.

The safety circuits would be like an emergency brake system that would prevent the two previous systems from going into disorder. All robots must have safety circuits installed; the manufacturers are required to do so by law, so this type of circuit is hidden in my body as well.

“Even so, I still have something that I’m worried about.”

Professor continues to say. Taking out a cirgarette from her cigarette case, she places it into her mouth. The cirgarette immediately gives out purple smoke.

“After recovering the data of the mental circuits, I noticed something odd. Robots seem to be able to have ‘illusions’.”

“Illusions……. Huh?”

Professor nods. A sweet sour smell drifts over from the circlet cigarette.

“It seems that he was chasing ‘someone’ that only he could see. If you explain it like this, you might be able to explain the actions of the robot in a logical way. The robot breaking the door is because ‘that person’ was at the other side of the wall, walking to the fountain is also because ‘that person’ went there.”

Robots having hallucinations. Can this happen?

“I received reports of the visual and color settings of robots going haywire before, but the case this time is quite unusual…… Additionally, the other members of our group did not notice this before I suggested the possibility. Really……”

Professor’s eyes are as lively as the summer sun, and her voice is quite agitated too. Any time she talks about something concerning robots, Professor becomes extremely active. I like seeing Professor like this.

Even so, as our topic today is robot crime, my feelings just now are rather complicated.

“Oh…..?”

At this moment, Professor suddenly stops.

“What is it?”

“Iris, wait for me for a moment.”

After that, Professor walks to the other side of the road.

She is walking towards a robot lying on the ground. His right leg has been broken through, his body is broken down, curling up his body like a kitten, lying in front of a closed down store.

Professor ignored the fact that it would dirty her clothes and starts to carry the robot’s upper torso, leaning him on the steel door of the store. Then, she starts to do a whole body examination on the robot with a serious expression on her face.

“Hmm, the 007 model huh……” mutters Professor.

Professor then slowly takes out a spare battery from her pocket and stuffs it into the chest of the robot. After a few seconds, a ‘beep’ is heard, then the chest of the robot quivers violently for a while like an electric shock was used on him after his heartbeat stopped.

“Very good, his circuits are still functioning.”

After taking out the battery, Professor immediately takes out her phone to make a phone call.

“…… Ah, Ralph? It’s me. I’m near the fountain plaza right now.”

Professor briefly tells the person at the other side of the phone about the model and condition of the robot. The conversation ends after 30 seconds, then Professor starts looking at the cover of the gutters rolled aside nearby.

“This kid…… actually passed through such a dark, narrow place……”

As Professor said, the robot seemed to have crawled out from the storm sewer, his body stained with moss. After imagining the silhouette of a robot crawling through a sewer pipe like a dark, narrow passage, an inexplicable feeling wells up in me.

Professor sticks a sticker with ‘Oval University First Robotics Laboratory: Final Reclamation Information’ onto the chest of the robot, then says to me after turning around “Sorry for the wait.”

“Professor, you called the research centre just now?”

“Yeah. I made some arrangements for collecting this kid.”

I turn my head around to look at the robot just now.

“You can fix him?”

“Yeah, I won’t know if I don’t try.”

Professor often fixes robots that are lying on the roadside. If she got to know the identity of the robot, she would contact the registered owner. Though there were some lucky robots who were taken away by their owners, most of them were kept in the storage room of the research centre.

If the robots are claimed by the Robot Management Department first, the robots would be converted into scrap metal after dealing with the necessary procedures. From this perspective, the robots found by Professor are actually very lucky.

Walking forward hand in hand, I ask.

“Hey, Professor.”

“What is it?”

“Why do you keep helping and fixing the robots?”

“Hmm, yeah……”

Professor thinks for a moment, then stares at me.

“Because…maybe…it's the meaning of my existence?”

I feel that the smile that Professor gave me was gentle but contained a hint of sadness.

An expression like this sometimes appeared on Professor’s face.

<center>♠</center>

After dinner that day, Professor starts a long awaited ‘special talk’ for me. This is because Professor finished her work earlier than expected. I get this special talk and a date, too; what a special day this day is.

I move the table and chair into the research lab while beaming, arranging the small blackboard and duster, then I prepare some snacks and tea. Then the preparations are complete.

A special talk.

This is a private talk that Professor organizes for me time after time.

Professor organizes a lecture at Oval University each week. As she’s a young genius who’s at the forefront of robot engineering, the classroom is always stuffed full of people, and quite a lot of people from other universities go to listen, too.

Professor’s lectures are very special and would start talks with philosophical topics like ‘Robots and Ethics,’ ‘Robots and Love’ and so on. Learning about these lectures a long time ago, I shouted “I want to join too!,” but in the end, I couldn’t go. I want to see with my own eyes, Professor standing on the stage with her white robe and holding a cane, teaching with a heroic posture and cold tone. As robots don’t have the right to go to school, attending sneakily would just affect Professor’s stand. As I was about to give up, Professor gave me a suggestion:

“Why don’t we just have the lecture at home?”

From that time on, Wendy von Umbrella started to organize special lectures for Iris Rain Umbrella alone.

I take out my thick notebook from my beloved folder. The notebook was jotted full of questions that I asked during the previous lectures.

For example,

“Do robots undergo psychological growth?”

“Do robots undergo puberty and rebellious stages?”

“What are the differences between the emotions of robots and humans?”

“Can robots go to heaven too?”

“Might there be a day when humans marry robots?”

“How much does Professor love me?”

Though it was mixed with a few personal questions, these are still in a tolerable area. This is a personal talk, after all.

“Alright, please get back to your seat.”

Professor walks into the lab. Today, she is still wearing a white robe on top of her suit, her beautiful hair tied up behind her. On the other hand, I’m still wearing my usual maid outfit, so our combination is rather strange.

Professor place her hands on the old wooden lectern that she brought from the university, saying: “Starting roll call.”

“Iris Rain Umbrella.”

“Here! Here, here, here!”

I poke out my body from the table, raising my hand energetically like a kid who just started school.”

“Miss Iris.”

“What is it!”

“Saying ‘here’ once would be enough.”

“Understood!”

I am extremely happy at this moment. It would be nice if robots could go to school one day.

Professor coughs for a moment, then started the lecture with a ‘Well, please turn to page fifty two.’

I open the textbook that Professor uses in the university. As I read it quite a lot of times already, the book is quite tattered.

“The theme of the lecture today is ‘What is the meaning of the existence of a robot.’ Recently, this type of research is categorized as robot psychology. A thesis that I spoke of about eight years ago initiated a hot discussion……”

Professor says that rapidly. The blackboard is gradually covered with Professor’s beautiful writing.

I am recording Professor’s words onto the notebook. Of course, saving the contents on the blackboard in my mental circuit can be done, but it wouldn’t have the feel of a lecture if so. The most important thing is the atmosphere and our attitudes.

After thirty minutes.

“…… Hmm, the above is the history of the ‘meaning of life’ and ‘mental hygiene’ from older models to newer models of robots. Though the arrangement is rather ugly from an academic view, but it might be able to help out students who are looking for a reference. …… Any questions?”

“Here!”

I raise my right hand and wave it with all my might. But there’s only one student here anyways.

“Miss Iris.”

“Your lecture is very interesting, thank you for that!”

The first thing is to be courteous.

“Then, about the ‘meaning of existence’ that professor mentioned just now, does it include ‘robots must serve their masters’?”

“Of course. Learning robots are prevalent among family robots; the direct meaning of their existence is to serve the robot user.”

“Then the meaning of my existence is to serve Professor, that’s for sure.”

“How did you get to that conclusion?”

“Because I love Professor.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Saying ‘okay’ once would be enough; Professor said that.”

“You are really so fussy.”

Professor heaves a sigh.

While jotting down the tables and explanations on the blackboard, I ponder today’s theme – the meaning of our existence. Lastly, after I hand in a simple report of my thoughts, the lecture would end.

“Alright, I’m done!”

“Wow, you’re quick.”

Like a detective who solved a hard case, I slap the report onto the lectern.

“Impression Report (Eighteenth time)” Theme……. Robots and Meaning of Existence.

The meaning of my existence is Professor. My beloved Professor. I love you, Professor. Marry me, Professor. End!

After reading my report, Professor’s expression becomes as awkward as an old police who had the limelight stolen by a detective.

“Erm, Miss Iris.”

“What is it!”

“Your report has only one row.”

“That row has everything!”

“How unmotivated are you.”

“I’m full of motivation!”

“Are you looking down on me?”

“I cannot deny the possibility!”

After heaving a sigh, Professor fishes out a circlet cigarette from her cigarette case.

She breaks the 8-shaped circlet cigarette into half, then pops one into her mouth.

“Professor, cigarettes……”

“It’s okay. This isn’t the university anyways.”

“No, not that…… No smoking in the lab.”

“Ah.”

As if she is throwing a tantrum, she declares while pouting: “Then that’s the end of the lecture today!”

She takes off her white robe, throws it onto the table, and leaves the classroom speedily with purple smoke behind her. “Really.” The word faintly drifted over along with the smoke.

I pick up the report that I wrote. A large red word is written at the center— “REDO”

The prank today might be a little bit too much. As the special lectures are the only rare times when I can make fun of Professor, I couldn’t resist it.

I should send her some red tea and cake after this to improve her mood.

<noinclude>
{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 5 Days Before|Dismantling- 5 Days Before]]
| Return to [[Iris on Rainy Days|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 3 Days Before|Dismantling- 3 Days Before]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

User talk:Jrdp 18

2013-07-15T06:33:31Z

Jrdp 18:

== "Cirgarette" in Iris on Rainy Days ==

You changed occurrences of "cirgarette" to "cigarette". The use of "cirgarette" was obviously intentional, and your changes are wrong. Look at this sentence:

"Ah, that's right, 'cirgarette' is another name for circlet cigarettes."

That explains the spelling. You changed it to "'cigarette' is another name for circlet cigarettes", which makes little sense.

Ah sorry. It slipped my mind, my mistake. I'll change it back if it hasn't been reverted back yet.

I'll be more careful from now on.

--jrdp_18

Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 6 Days Before

2013-07-15T06:32:51Z

Jrdp 18: Revert cigarette to cirgarette.

===Six Days Before===

“Thanks for your patronage!”

The voice of the butcher is full of vigor, as usual, and rang loudly behind me. I start to walk on the road that leads to the Umbrella residence. I carried an enormous La Bier fish on my back yesterday, while I’m carrying a tea colored leg of a cow and a white spring onion on my back today. I look like I’m dual wielding beef shank and onions.

I walk forward quickly, with the eyes of the pedestrians on me. When I think about it, the dinner menu of the Umbrella residence is always on display to the people of the city. It was La Bier stew pot last night, while tonight it’s beef soup with onions à l'Oval.

Going around the corner and walking through the Venus Fountain Plaza, I arrive at Commerce Avenue.

Oval City is picturesque, with canals flowing around it and looks like an oval from the air. This area was formerly plagued by floods, but the population - of both tourists and citizens - has been continuously growing since the drainage system and sewers were completed. By the way, Professor's workplace – Oval University First Robotics Laboratory – is the tallest building in the city.

The robot research centre has almost entirely become a tourist destination, so the citizens of Oval City are quite tolerant of robots. At least there aren’t signs saying ‘Robots are Prohibited’ hung in buses or restaurants. But even in a city like this, not everyone is tolerant of robots. Just now, some housewives who live nearby were gossiping “Look, it's that woman professor's robot” “It’s so obscene……”. I didn't listen to their conversation deliberately, it’s just that I have a subroutine for automatically detecting sounds near me.

First, I must emphasise: I am an ordinary robot created by Professor for doing housework, and my certification number is HRM021-α. My job is to do all the housework and chat with Professor. There really isn't anything beyond that. It’s just that many people like to gossip, and the rumours only get worse with time. Among the more malicious rumors is that the top robot researcher Wendy von Umbrella is a lesbian and has an unhealthy interest in robots modelled after young girls — that sort of thing. It’s probably because Professor is single and has spurned all suitors that rumours like this appeared.

There actually are quite a few users who use female robots for “that sort of thing.” Not only can I not deny it, but the profits from that market segment support a large part of the robot industry. Some rich people even buy quite a few robots of the same model, to create a ‘virtual harem.’

That's as may be, but Professor isn't like that.

I've served her for three years and Professor has never made any sexual requests of me. She just doesn't do that sort of thing.

Professor created me because of her ‘sister’ who died in an accident.

One autumn day four years ago, the Umbrella sisters went on vacation together. Professor drove the car. On the way to their destination, they collided head-on with a truck that had crossed the centre line. The party at fault was obviously the truck driver, but Professor felt responsible for her sister’s death. From that day on the Umbrella residence keeps no cars.

Since their parents died when they were young, the sisters had relied upon each other for support. The accident meant that Professor suddenly lost her one and only family member — her sister.

Her sister was Iris Rain Umbrella. And so that is my name too.

I am a ‘replacement’ for her sister. Similar to the circlet cigarettes that are a replacement for normal cigarettes, we are just counterfeits that appear exactly like the real thing. Every time my profile is reflected in Professor’s eyes, she looks not for me, but for her sister in me.

I'm okay with that. Professor has always taken care of me; if I want to go out and play or desire something, she will usually heed my request. And the most important thing is that she is gentle toward me. If I am not satisfied with this, then I’m really just too hard to please.

Sometimes — just sometimes — there is a small pain in my chest like a prick from a rose thorn, but I’m used to it.

<center>♠</center>

Today after dinner it’s time for my weekly maintenance.

“Let's get started~”

Donning a white robe, Professor walks into the research lab. A thick stack of folders is in her hands. Seeing this scene, I show her a dissatisfied expression and turn my head.

It’s because I hate the maintenance process.

“Don’t move.”

Professor immediately takes out a pencil flashlight from her pocket, then flipped the switch with a click, shining the ray of light on my eyes. This process is not to assess death, but just a simple test to determine if my pupils are functioning properly.

After that, Professor takes out a few cards and shuffles them exaggeratedly like a magician, then quickly places them in front of me. I directly answer the pictures that I saw— “Star, cross, apple, square.”

“That’s great.”

My dynamic visual system seems to be functioning well.

Then, Professor says like a nanny taking care of a child: “Alright, ahh~.” Suddenly, I feel rather embarrassed. Professor pries my mouth open with her fingers that are wearing gloves, carefully examining the condition of my mouth. I cannot keep from emitting strange huffing sounds.

Professor rapidly writes down the results on a paper form beside her. It's an official document that will go to a government office after this. The law states that a normal family robot has to have regular check-ups twice a year.

For me, it’s every week. Probably because I’m a new model robot, I have to undergo various check ups.

“Next is the skin exam.”

—it’s here! The skin exam!

As its name suggests, this is an examination of the surface of my skin. Which means—

I must take off my clothes.

“First, your face.”

Professor holds my face with both of her hands, pulling me closer to her.

—Uwaa!

Professor stares at my face like she is going to burn a hole on it. Her dark amber irises come closer to me.

“Hmm……” Professor observes me with a serious gaze as if she is thinking about licking my face. I'm frozen, but my heart pounds frantically. If I move even a bit, our faces would touch.

“The skin on your face is okay.” Professor jots down the results. Then, she says as if nothing happened: “Then take off your clothes.”

“Ye- Yes ma'am……” 

I nervously take off my socks and place them into the clothing basket. Then, I take off my maid headdress, apron and dress, leaving only my bra and shorts on. I don't feel cold at all. In fact, my body feels burning hot.

The reason Professor asked me to take off my clothes is not because of some lewd interest. The skin exam is a check up to determine if there are any scratches or changes on my artificial skin. Face, neck, shoulders, arms, belly and back, Professor checks them all with a serious gaze.

— Ahh….. huu.

My artificial skin can sense Professor’s breath, so I have goosebumps on my back. Though I have gone through this examination every week for three years, I still haven’t gotten used to it.

“Alright, take off your bra.”

“Uuu……”

“What is it?”

I mentally brace myself, saying “No…… Nevermind” while extending my hand to my back. If I didn't cooperate, it would just extend the time the exam takes.

I take off my light blue bra, showing my white breasts. Not too big or small, Professor said that the soft shape perfectly suits a young girl of this age. I was modelled on Professor’s sister, so her breasts were probably like this too.

Professor takes off her glasses and looks carefully. I am so embarrassed that I can almost breathe fire.

“Okay, take off your panties too.”

Professor jots down the results on the paper and coolly gives me my next instruction.

— Uuuuu.

I place my fingers on my panties and unwillingly take them off. I'm so embarrassed that I feel I might faint.

After taking off my panties, I am totally nude.

“Let’s see……”

Professor immediately squats down in front of me. Then, she closely examines my ‘front’ and ‘back.’ I can feel Professor’s breath, and her forehead lightly touches my lower abdomen. If other people see this scene, they would definitely get the wrong impression.

“Hmm…… This is……”

Professor’s cool voice suddenly becomes rough. She seems to have found ‘that.’

“The spots again?”

I ask her, while Professor says while checking: “Yes. There’s one at the right side of your butt.” Then, she uses her finger to touch the position of the spot. My body swayed lightly.

“It has a diameter of five centimetres, and is light purple……”

Professor writes down the characteristics of the spot on the paper. For some reason, my body would sometimes be mottled with small spots. Their position varies. Sometimes they even appear on my face. I was shocked at the start, but I’m used to it now.

“Can it be fixed?”

“Of course.”

Professor takes out a machine that is even thinner than the pen-shaped flashlight and presses it onto my bottom. This method is called the optical segregation cleaning method, or just ‘clearing stains’ on my artificial skin.

“There.”

Professor slaps my bottom with a thwack. I lightly touch it, then quickly put on my panties and my bra. It’s lucky that the spot today is small. If the spot is too big, I would have to continue to stand here nude.

“Let’s have a short break.”

After saying that, Professor leaves the research lab. As smoking is prohibited here, she is going to smoke her cirgarette in the corridor.

The examination is finally over. I relax and heave a sigh.

For the sake of Professor’s reputation I should explain a bit— Professor is examining me personally and not taking me to a specialist because I would otherwise have to go to specialized agencies for maintenance if I refused her exam. I would have to show my nude body to the male technicians. Even the thought is scary...

So, Professor got a robot technician certification and shoulders the responsibility of my maintenance. It also eliminates the fussy procedures of going to the various governmental departments. I can be examined at home like this only because Professor's cares for me.

—I understand that, but……

Professor sits back onto the chair after five minutes, saying “Well,” and crosses her arm. There are still many examination documents, and I have to undergo a scan of my mental circuits, action control verification and the examination of my safety circuits.

Feeling depressed, I stare at Professor grudgingly like a child looking at a doctor holding a hypodermic needle.

After noticing my gaze, Professor says in the strange tone of a spoiled girl “Ara, Miss Iris, do you have something to say?” Her mouth seems to indicate faint amusement.

“Nothing!”

I unhappily turn my face away.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 7 Days Before|Dismantling- 7 Days Before]]
| Return to [[Iris on Rainy Days|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 5 Days Before|Dismantling- 5 Days Before]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 7 Days Before

2013-07-15T06:31:40Z

Jrdp 18: Revert cigarette to cirgarette.

=='''Chapter 1 - Dismantling'''==
[[File:Iris on Rainy Days p012.jpg|200px|thumb]]
"Take care on the road! Come home earlier!" (Iris Rain Umbrella)

===Dismantling: 7 Days Before===


At the center of the Venus Fountain Plaza, there stands the statue of a stunning goddess.

She has slim limbs, skin as white as silk, and a great figure. Today, the goddess still wears a gentle smile on her face, silently observing the surrounding crowd.

Oval City had once burned in the flames of war. When most of the town was burnt to the ground, only the goddess statue miraculously survived without so much as a scratch. From that day on, the statue of the goddess became a symbol of hope and revival, and has been protected as the most important cultural asset of our country.

Beside the 170 centimeter tall goddess statue, the fountain is blooming flowers of water, in rainbow colors. On the dark tea-colored benches that were placed around the fountain, old men chat with each other, children play around, and lovers proclaim their love for each other. The harmonious scene looks like it came from a painting.

—it's indeed similar.

I hear a squeaking sound start, and I adjust the pupil function of my visual system. After focusing on the white goddess statue, I sigh lightly.

The goddess statue looks like Professor. Professor is the top researcher of robots, Doctor Wendy von Umbrella, Ph. D. I'm proud of her: she has a tall figure, beautiful, luscious, black hair, and wears glasses with a sleek, silver frame that suit her very much.

While thinking of Professor's shapely form, I stare blankly at the goddess statue when the sweet sour smell of circlet cigarette floated over. I start to turn the angle of my neck, confirming the source of the fragrance.

The person who sat on the bench, smoking a circlet cigarette, is a middle aged man wearing a dark blue suit. He is reading today's copy of Oval Daily; but just now, he started to peek at me every now and again. I use a gentle smile to greet him, and he shyly shifts his gaze.

Circlet cigarettes, by the way, are a product used for smoking cessation. The shape is as suggested by the word 'circlet', and the size is about the size of a circle made with thumb and index finger. When people get one out to smoke it, the ring-shaped cigarette immediately straightens, and then the tip of the cigarette can then be lit.

Although it is a replacement for tobacco that was made to occupy the mouths of smokers who are trying to quit, recently more and more smokers are buying it because they like the scent. The most popular circlet cigarette is the type that combines two circlets into the shape of the number 8. This type of cigarette can be split into two halves, half of it to smoke, and the other half to hold the ashes.

I know about all of this because Professor Umbrella loves this type of circlet cigarette.

— Mnn.

I shift my gaze to the goddess statue again, and suddenly start to ponder. The goddess statue looks very similar to the tall professor. However, I just have this feeling that it is lacking 'something'. Every time I see it, I would have this uncoordinated feeling in me.

When this meaningless question surfaced in my mind, time's up.

— In five minutes, you will be unable to reach home by the scheduled time.

The inorganic, electronic voice of my mental circuit starts urging me to hurry home.

— Alright then, it's almost time to go.

With my back to the plaza, I start to walk home quickly. The shopping basket in my right hand is stuffed full of the ingredients for today's dinner, and a glittering silver La Bier fish is tied to my back, causing the pedestrians who pass by to turn their head around when they see it. Their surprise is only natural, since they're seeing me carry a huge, one meter long fish while I'm only a hundred and fifty centimeter tall myself. But after they notice that I am actually a robot, they showed an expression that suggested understanding.

Differentiating between humans and robot is very simple. The ones that have a round antenna on their ears (It looks really like an earphone) are robots, the ones who don't are humans. "It's the robot from the Umbrella residence!"— a voice clearly projects into my auditory system. So, I smiled back at the person. Though robots used in families is not uncommon, but since Professor is a famous person, I get noticed sometimes when I walk in the streets.

After walking about ten minutes from the Fountain Plaza, I arrive at the Umbrella residence. Looking at the blue, ivy-covered door, I say: "Certification number HRM021-α, Iris Rain Umbrella. I'm back." After the electronic voice says "Certification complete, please enter", the big door opens silently.

The Umbrella residence is a grand mansion. There is a courtyard here the size of three station squares, and it is a large residence comparable to mansions of administrators. The red brick outer wall makes people understand the grandeur of the history and traditions of the Umbrella family.

After entering the mansion, a luxurious hall can be seen immediately. The sunlight entering from the skylight passes through the chandeliers, giving out a colourful radiance. The carpet spread on the floor is similar to the style of the ones in old castles. Large paintings are hung on the walls. Each is worth enough to provide a luxurious life.

Passing through the corridor with the exquisitely shining floor, I first place the fish in the freezer. I feel much better after that, and I start to walk towards the west-most room on that floor— the research room. The research room is stuffed full of materials and tools, the clean but chilly space is like a snowy field on a winter day.

Sitting on the creamy white bed near the wall, I first check my status meter.

Battery level 82.50%, waste in body 1.73%. The energy level is more than enough for labour, but Professor had ordered me to recharge. So I will charge.

After sterilizing the long, thin tube with a chemical twice, I open the lock on my wrist, showing the connection plug. If I made a mistake in the steps, the black machine oil might splatter all over the room, so I must be quite careful.

I insert the tube into my right and left hand in succession, then pressed the switch on the machine. Electric power and additional lubricating oil slowly flow into the connection plug on my right wrist. At the same time, the tea-colored waste in my body is sucked out of my left wrist.

The introduction manuals for robot maintenance usually say that the system is similar to humans using IV drips. Really though, the system excretes and cleans the body's internals, so it is more like artificial dialysis than IV drips.

I look up while charging my battery, staring at the metal sheeting on the ceiling. The mirror finish reflects my whole body.

There's not technically much difference in gender in robots, but I appear to be a girl. My age is set at fifteen. I have blue eyes with delicate eyebrows and maroon, slightly wavy, shoulder-length hair. The length of my limbs is similar to Professor's, and my face is that of a beauty, just like professor— I know it is so because Professor is always praising my cuteness - it's not just my opinion.

The maid costume that I am wearing was designed in a fairy tale style. A maid's headdress lightly waves on my head, while the cutting of the apron emphasizes the curves of my breasts. The peach coloured dress tightens at the waist, while the dress itself is quite loose, and would make people think of a wedding dress. Where did Professor buy such a lovely maid's costume, I wonder? Even now it's still a mystery.

After twelve minutes and one second, the process of charging finished. Battery level 99.93%, body waste 0.02%.

—Alright, target level achieved.

I jump down from the bed, leaving the research room. My destination is the kitchen, because I have to prepare dinner.

In the large kitchen that is not inferior to high classed restaurants, I start to make a Bill La Bier stew pot. There's a lot of pots, sinks and gas stoves here, but I would always cook at the left side of the kitchen. Professor is very rich, and she could even hire over ten, or even over twenty chefs, but she didn't hire any up till now. Not only a chef, she didn't even hire other maids, and I have to handle the whole large Umbrella residence. I could only use all my effort, diligently finish the chores like cooking, washing the clothes and sweeping the floor.

I quickly cut the La Bier fish, and lightly pick up the pieces of peach-coloured fish.

—200.0025 grams.

While referring to the recipe searched from my mental circuit, I finish the preparations of making the Bill Labier stew pot. By the way, "La Bier" is a fish very similar to salmon, while "La Bier" is actually the name of a person. I'd heard that a fisherman called La Bier caught a large La Bier fish long ago, then he needed an entire night to finish the whole fish. His way of cooking is was to cut the fish into big pieces, then stew it with the spices— that's the origin of the La Bier stew pot. It sounds like a simple dish, but if you want to cook it well, there's quite a bit of technique involved. For instance, you have to accurately handle the fire and patiently scoop out the foam.

From the moment I pick up the kitchen knife, twenty seven minutes and twelve seconds have passed, and my job is done. I store the remaining food in the freezer. Professor doesn't have many visitors, so these leftover portions will probably go to waste in the freezer. With the large amount of ingredients bought and the large kitchen, the Umbrella residence is usually that wasteful.

As I complain in a small voice, an electronic voice rings in my mind.

— Professor Wendy von Umbrella has returned.

"She's back!"

I rush out of the kitchen, passing through the hall, and violently pull open the doors to the outside. My dress fluttering in the wind, I start to run to the forecourt.

— Professor! Professor!! Professor!!!

The person passing through the gate, is a tall, black haired woman wearing a jacket that is light like a swan, and looks incomparably beautiful although it doesn't seem like she has any make up on — my Professor walks over to me slowly. And then, she waves suddenly to me.

Not caring about the battery loss, I run with all my strength to the professor. I am running with the speed of a hundred meters in nine seconds, and emergency brake three meters in front of Professor. I am not sweating, or even panting, but my body is giving off heat like a steaming stove, as if my body has been lit up. The image of Professor swirls in my mental circuit.

"Welcome back, Professor!"

I open my arms while beaming, welcoming the return of Professor. While I am somewhat over-reacting, this is just a way of showing my love for Professor.

Professor looks at me, with a gentle smile. She puts out the fire of her circlet cigarette and keeps the ash tray. My olfactory system detected a sweet sour smell after that.

"I'm back, Iris. Have you been a good girl today, too?"

That is a somewhat deep, cool and quiet voice for a female. The silver framed glasses on her nose makes her wise face even more striking.

"Yes! Professor's Iris has been a very, very good girl today too!"

"Is that so. What about dinner?"

"It's the same as what I told you, a La Bier stew pot!"

"What a good girl you are."

Professor extends her right hand to me.

— Alright, it's coming!

I happily wait for that moment.

Professor's hand lightly touches the top of my head. She used a gentle, but somewhat rough movement to caress my maroon hair.

This is truly an incomparable happiness.

I look just like a kitten that had been caressed, making satisfied sounds with my throat. I enjoy the pleasure of contact with Professor's gentle hand, and the sweet sour smell of the tobacco that tickles the nose.

<center>♠</center>
Dinner time has always been the most nervous time for me.

Professor slowly scoops out a piece of La Bier fish from the pot. She continues to use a small knife to cut the fish, sticks a fork into it then swallows it with her rose colored lips.

Because of the chewing action, Professor's face is moving slightly. I stare at her face, slightly worried.

— Professor, how is it? Is it good? Hmm? Is it?

I ask repeatedly in my heart, waiting for Professor to express her thoughts.

"Hmm......"

Professor twists her neck. Then, my mental circuit suddenly cools down. Describing from the angle of a human, that would mean that a chill went up my back.

"E- e- e- errmmm, I- I- I- I- I- is there a problem with it?"

I ask in a rapid fire speed, feeling slightly dizzy. For Iris Rain Umbrella who is proud of her ability of doing chores, being told that my cooking is bad would be the same as questioning the meaning of my existence.

"To be frank......"

Professor raised one of her beautiful eyebrows, saying with an obviously displeased tone.

"To- to be frank?" I waited nervously for her next comment.

However, Professor's mouth slightly curls, a smile surfacing on her face. She says suddenly.

"It's really good."

I am quite shocked, and couldn't help but make an idiotic "...... Eh?" sound.

"Ah...... Eh? Aren't you disliking it......"

"No, it's very tasty. And the handling of the fire is especially good."

"............"

"Oh? What's the matter, Iris? Why are you showing me a tongue-tied expression?"

You can say that Professor is an S. The S in S&M. A sadist. She always uses these simple traps to trick me. By the way, this is already the twenty forth time. The pitiful thing about robots is that they even remember how many times meaningless things like this occur.
[[File:Iris on Rainy Days p025.jpg|200px|thumb]]
"Really, Professor! Haven't I said not to make that kind of joke!"

I throw the napkin at Professor angrily.

"Oi oi, that's too much of a waste."

"According to your words, the La Bier stew pot today is the wasteful one! Telling me to buy a whole fish, what are you preparing to do with it!"

Professor casually answered "I'll finish it after two days," and continues to eat. I answer "You always lie......," crumple the last napkin up, throw it, and it hits Professor's arm with a plop.

"Mnn, it really is tasty. Iris is really good at cooking."

Professor comments deliberately, and places another piece of La Bier fish into her mouth. Although I feel somewhat frustrated, but seeing Professor enjoying the stew, a note of satisfaction appeared in my heart.

After dinner, Professor goes to the washroom. While cleaning up the dishes, I recall Professor's childish actions, laughing for a moment, being annoyed for a moment, but a smile still surfaced on my face in the end.

Today, Professor is still pretty, likes to bully people, is gentle and stroked my hair.

— Mmm, right now I'm speechless with contentment.

The peaceful night slowly passes, and then it is bedtime. I change into my beloved pajamas with pictures of flowers on them, then knock on Professor's bedroom door.

"Professor, sorry for bothering you."

I walk into the room. As usual, Professor is wearing purple pajamas slightly open at the chest, and is lying on her bed. She has a circlet cigarette in her mouth. The sweat sour smell is mixed with a slight smell of peppermint, and the smell floated over along with the smoke. The slogan used on television is "The taste of your first love," and I think that it's quite apt. That's right— it's the taste of the first love to me. The love between Professor and I— I really want to feel that too, but the only one in love is me, Professor is always calm.

I understand these feelings would only be useless, so it's better for me to be careful.

"Professor, smoking on the bed is too impolite."

"It's not against the law."

"And it could cause a fire."

"I never heard of cirgarettes causing fires."

Professor looks at the ceiling, continuing to puff out smoke. Ah, that's right, 'cirgarette' is another name for circlet cigarettes.

"The total data says that eight incidents occurred this year."

I block Professor's vision determinedly, looking at her from above. The smoke almost burned my eyes.

"How many times had it happened in Oval Town?" Professor continues to smoke.

"...... Zero."

"Then it's okay."

"But you can't use that as an excuse, Professor."

I stubbornly snatch the cirgarette away from Professor's mouth. "Ah, give it back!" Professor sits up, extending her hand to my elbow.

As revenge for Professor making fun of me during dinner, I run around the room while holding the cirgarette. Professor gets up from bed too, chasing me. I hide behind tables and chairs so that Professor cannot catch me. Although it's childish, there's still an undeniable charm to it.

After playing two short rounds of catch in the room, Professor says "It's time for bed" and takes off her silver framed glasses. She stares at me with her eyes like a colourful glass. Professor is a beauty when she wears her glasses, and she is still a beauty after she takes off her glasses.

—Ah.

The goddess statue isn't wearing glasses.

"What is it?" Professor stares at me from the bed. I lightly tilted my head, honestly speaking my thoughts: "Professor is indeed...... suited for glasses and cigarettes."

"Huh? Why are you suddenly saying that."

"No, that's just my thoughts. ...... Then Professor, is it okay?"

This question means, "May I snuggle into Professor's blanket?"

"Be my guest."

Professor lifts up her blanket and waves to me. I say "Excuse me," then nervously lie down beside professor. After that, I curl up my body and raise my head to look at Professor.

We are very close together, and I can see myself reflected in Professor's pupils.

"Good night, Professor."

I bury my head in Professor's large, soft hills. It's so soft and has a nice fragrance to it.

Professor hugs me gently, stroking my hair. Then, she says "Goodnight, Iris" and kisses my forehead.

After changing my status to sleep mode, I enter the world of slumber.

I had a happy day today, too.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Iris on Rainy Days:Prologue|Prologue]]
| Return to [[Iris on Rainy Days|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 6 Days Before|Dismantling- 6 Days Before]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

User talk:Jrdp 18

2013-07-15T06:21:45Z

Jrdp 18:

There's nothing to discuss, period. :P

== "Cirgarette" in Iris on Rainy Days ==

You changed occurrences of "cirgarette" to "cigarette". The use of "cirgarette" was obviously intentional, and your changes are wrong. Look at this sentence:

"Ah, that's right, 'cirgarette' is another name for circlet cigarettes."

That explains the spelling. You changed it to "'cigarette' is another name for circlet cigarettes", which makes little sense.

Ah sorry. It slipped my mind, my mistake. I'll change it back if it hasn't been reverted back yet.

I'll be more careful from now on.

--jrdp_18

User talk:Jrdp 18

2013-07-15T05:52:33Z

Jrdp 18: /* "Cirgarette" in Iris on Rainy Days */

User talk:Jrdp 18

2013-07-15T05:44:58Z

Jrdp 18: Reply to Cirgarette

Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 4 Days Before

2013-07-14T12:24:47Z

Jrdp 18:

===Four Days Before===

Sunday.

I am wearing a white dress with frills on it, checking my attire in front of the mirror.

I’m going on a date with Professor today. Well, just for a half-day date to a movie and lunch.

“Iris, we’re going soon~”

Came Professor’s voice from downstairs.

“Alright, I’m coming!”

I respond in a loud voice, putting on a large straw hat at the same time. The hat hides the antenna above my ears, so that there won't be curious kids shouting “Robot! It’s a robot!”

— Attire okay, hat alright, battery level full!

I hurry down the stairs after completing my last minute check.

Professor is standing at the front door, wearing her personal clothes.

— So stunning!

The blue shirt and green jeans are actually rather casual clothing, but since she’s quite tall, this shows off her exceptional figure. If there were a white horse beside her she would look just like a prince— but this analogy seems a little strange.

A silver cigarette case gleams in front of her chest. Having Professor’s favorite oblong cigarette case hung on a chain, it seems just like a necklace. The 8-shaped circlet cigarettes are kept in the case.

“Professor, how do I look?”

I twirl in a circle like a ballerina. The dress and the straw hat flutter gently in the breeze.

Professor narrows her eyes, as if dazzled by the sun and says “Mnn, it suits you.”

It suits you…… It suits you…… It suits you…… It suits you……. Professor’s words reverberate repeatedly in my mental circuits.

Ahh, just hearing that could make me happy all day.

“Let’s go then.”

Professor walks over while lifting her long hair. I hold her hand while standing beside her.

As the door is opened, the blue sky that makes one want to burst into song seems to be blessing us.

There are a lot of people at the cinema beside the station.

I show my robot certificate at the ticket booth, then the employees start to size me up. My antenna above my ear is hidden, so they are suspicious of me because they can’t tell if I’m a human or a robot.

It seems that the elevator is offline today; we pass by quite a few technicians at the entrance of the cinema. More than half of them seem to be labor robots, probably the HRL004 model from their appearance. Whichever it is, they're an old model.

Labor robots have been around even longer than family robots have. As more of them are sold in the market, they are more often seen on the streets. Waiters at a restaurant, night time security guards, attendants at the entrance hall of a company, carpenters — their uses are quite diverse.

Old family robots are also often sold in the second hand market and reused as labor robots. Young female robots usually enter the labor robot market this way. Recently, the people who combine second hand parts of robots to create a new robot to sell are increasing, and the hidden dangers of this have been noted as a problem to society. It is, by the way, against the law for unqualified persons to assemble a robot, similar to the fact that one can’t just assemble a car and drive it on the road.

After entering the cinema, Professor and I choose a seat towards the back of the room. We place the fruit juice and popcorn on the small table between the seats. After five minutes, the movie starts playing.

“Hey, Professor.”

“What is it?”

“Why are we watching a horror movie today?”

Two young women watching a horror movie alone seems strange. The other people in the seats are all man-woman couples.

“Analyzing the actions of the zombies could be used as a reference for the theory of movement control for robots.”

“Huh…… Theory of movement control……”

Professor is always passionate about her research. I can’t help an admiring thought: “As expected of Professor,” while a hint of mirth suddenly appears on the corner of Professor’s mouth.

“Eh, why are you smiling?”

“Nothing, Iris is really a good and honest girl.”

“Eh?”

I don't know why Professor praised me, but it pleases me anyway.

“That’s right, Professor. According to my investigations, the movie ‘This is a Fateful Encounter’ is the most popular movie, a touching masterpiece…… It’s rare that we come here, so do you want to watch that?”

“I say, isn’t that a romantic movie?”

“That would be fine, romantic movies.”

“The stereotypical contents are lame.”

“The- then what about a monster movie? Like ‘Monster Showdown: Vanilla vs Chocola’?”

“There’d probably be a lot of kids there. That won't do. They’d make a lot of noise when the movie is playing.”

“What about ‘Third-rate Demon God Visa Darke’?”

“Isn’t that a series? I didn’t watch its predecessors, so how would I know of its contents?”

“Uuuu…… You know that I’m scared of watching horror movies, right?”

“Really?”

“Really.”

I puff out my cheeks and start to have a tantrum. Professor bursts into laughter when she sees me.

All of a sudden, a bell rings and the movie starts.

The long-awaited zombies shamble unsteadily forward from the movie screen.

And so.

“Not bad.”

Professor gives her impression of the movie, satisfied. It seems that she finds the visual effects of the horror movie adequate.

As for me, I have become a pale-faced robot with periodic violent spasms.

“Iris, are you okay?”

“H- h-h- how could I be okay! Wh- wh- wh- what is that, that movie cuts like bzzzt~ and springs up like dong~!”

Instead of saying that this is a horror movie, it’s really more a violent, bloody movie.

Halfway through the movie, I try to hug Professor quite a few times in fear but was pushed away by the expressionless Professor with her right hand.

I try to fling away the squirting blood, flying brains and squirming intestines burnt into my mental circuits by violently shaking my head, but even if I do so, the data obviously remain unchanged.

“Since our coming here is such a rare event, why don’t we take a commemorative photo?”

“Eh~ Here?”

After calling to a worker nearby, Professor passes her camera to him. It seems like she’s going to use the signboard of the horror movie ‘Nightmare~ Rotten Nightmare’ as a background to take our commemorative photo together.

“No, let’s take it some other place.”

“That won’t do. We watched a movie here today, so we must take it here.”

“We’ll be cursed if we take a photo here!”

“That isn’t a scientific reason.”

After grabbing my elbow tightly, Professor hugs my shoulders in front of the signboard.

Our bodies are tightly touching, and it would be a great moment if it were some other time. But right now, I just feel that the army of zombies from the signboard would jump out at any moment. Especially the zombies that had their lower bodies chopped off, their intestines poking out; I feel my whole body trembling just thinking of it.

“Okay, cheese!”

After shouting that, the worker presses the shutter.

Just like that, I am in a photo, my face deathly pale, squeezing out a smile; Professor, with a devilish smile on her face.

After eating lunch at a nearby restaurant, we take thirty minutes to buy the makings of dinner; then we return home.

On the way back home, Professor and I walk home hand in hand.

And now, Professor is reading the newspaper she bought from a newsstand. One of the contents is ‘Unit Composed of New Robot Model Utterly Annihilating Enemy’s Base.’

“Reading while walking is dangerous, Professor.”
[[File:Iord 050.jpg|200px|thumb]]
“It’s okay. I’m holding Iris' hand anyway.”

“Really……”

“It’s because the special report in the ‘Oval Times’ is so interesting that I can't resist. Crane Cloudy is one of the top researchers of robots in the world.”

Though Professor is still on a date with me, she is fascinated by the newspaper. I’m so jealous of the paper.

While dragging Professor, who’s holding her paper in one hand, we arrive at Venus Plaza.

— There it is.

About fifty meters from the plaza, it’s the shop. Its walls have been broken down, the ground is sunken, and there is also yellow tape on the outside, forbidding people from entering. This is the robot crime scene I saw from the news on the television.

“Hey, Professor.”

“Hmm?”

Professor finally shifts her attention away from the newspaper, raising her head.

“About that……” I point at the shop with the collapsed wall. Professor nods, answering immediately “The place where the robot rampage happened?” It seems that Professor knows of this as well.

“Why did the robot go on a rampage?”

I express my doubts about the matter.

Professor deliberately lowers her voice, answering: “I have an obligation to keep this secret, so I can’t answer you.”

“Eh?” I ask, confused. “An obligation?”

Professor smiles faintly and shrugs while saying: “I was just making fun of you.”

“The robot was sent to our research centre for dissection. And our group is in charge of it.”

I blinked in surprise. I never would have thought that the robot in the news would have any connection to Professor. While thinking about it, the agency that is the most specialized in robotic matters is the ‘First Robotics Laboratory of Oval University’ where Professor works at, so it’s natural that things would turn out this way.

“Then did you learn anything?”

“Mnn, yeah……”

Professor touches her chin lightly with her index finger.

“Put simply, we think it was ‘short circuit of the motor system causing the safety circuits to go haywire.’ Even so, we aren’t that clear about some points, as the robot was excessively damaged.”

Robots have a central group of circuits called the three main systems. They are the logic circuits, the movement control circuits, and the safety circuits.

Compared with a human, the mental circuits would be the brain, the movement control circuits would be the spinal cord and nervous system. The orders given by the mental circuits would be transmitted to the whole body though the movement control circuits, causing the limbs to move.

The safety circuits would be like an emergency brake system that would prevent the two previous systems from going into disorder. All robots must have safety circuits installed; the manufacturers are required to do so by law, so this type of circuit is hidden in my body as well.

“Even so, I still have something that I’m worried about.”

Professor continues to say. Taking out a cigarette from her cigarette case, she places it into her mouth. The cigarette immediately gives out purple smoke.

“After recovering the data of the mental circuits, I noticed something odd. Robots seem to be able to have ‘illusions’.”

“Illusions……. Huh?”

Professor nods. A sweet sour smell drifts over from the circlet cigarette.

“It seems that he was chasing ‘someone’ that only he could see. If you explain it like this, you might be able to explain the actions of the robot in a logical way. The robot breaking the door is because ‘that person’ was at the other side of the wall, walking to the fountain is also because ‘that person’ went there.”

Robots having hallucinations. Can this happen?

“I received reports of the visual and color settings of robots going haywire before, but the case this time is quite unusual…… Additionally, the other members of our group did not notice this before I suggested the possibility. Really……”

Professor’s eyes are as lively as the summer sun, and her voice is quite agitated too. Any time she talks about something concerning robots, Professor becomes extremely active. I like seeing Professor like this.

Even so, as our topic today is robot crime, my feelings just now are rather complicated.

“Oh…..?”

At this moment, Professor suddenly stops.

“What is it?”

“Iris, wait for me for a moment.”

After that, Professor walks to the other side of the road.

She is walking towards a robot lying on the ground. His right leg has been broken through, his body is broken down, curling up his body like a kitten, lying in front of a closed down store.

Professor ignored the fact that it would dirty her clothes and starts to carry the robot’s upper torso, leaning him on the steel door of the store. Then, she starts to do a whole body examination on the robot with a serious expression on her face.

“Hmm, the 007 model huh……” mutters Professor.

Professor then slowly takes out a spare battery from her pocket and stuffs it into the chest of the robot. After a few seconds, a ‘beep’ is heard, then the chest of the robot quivers violently for a while like an electric shock was used on him after his heartbeat stopped.

“Very good, his circuits are still functioning.”

After taking out the battery, Professor immediately takes out her phone to make a phone call.

“…… Ah, Ralph? It’s me. I’m near the fountain plaza right now.”

Professor briefly tells the person at the other side of the phone about the model and condition of the robot. The conversation ends after 30 seconds, then Professor starts looking at the cover of the gutters rolled aside nearby.

“This kid…… actually passed through such a dark, narrow place……”

As Professor said, the robot seemed to have crawled out from the storm sewer, his body stained with moss. After imagining the silhouette of a robot crawling through a sewer pipe like a dark, narrow passage, an inexplicable feeling wells up in me.

Professor sticks a sticker with ‘Oval University First Robotics Laboratory: Final Reclamation Information’ onto the chest of the robot, then says to me after turning around “Sorry for the wait.”

“Professor, you called the research centre just now?”

“Yeah. I made some arrangements for collecting this kid.”

I turn my head around to look at the robot just now.

“You can fix him?”

“Yeah, I won’t know if I don’t try.”

Professor often fixes robots that are lying on the roadside. If she got to know the identity of the robot, she would contact the registered owner. Though there were some lucky robots who were taken away by their owners, most of them were kept in the storage room of the research centre.

If the robots are claimed by the Robot Management Department first, the robots would be converted into scrap metal after dealing with the necessary procedures. From this perspective, the robots found by Professor are actually very lucky.

Walking forward hand in hand, I ask.

“Hey, Professor.”

“What is it?”

“Why do you keep helping and fixing the robots?”

“Hmm, yeah……”

Professor thinks for a moment, then stares at me.

“Because…maybe…it's the meaning of my existence?”

I feel that the smile that Professor gave me was gentle but contained a hint of sadness.

An expression like this sometimes appeared on Professor’s face.

<center>♠</center>

After dinner that day, Professor starts a long awaited ‘special talk’ for me. This is because Professor finished her work earlier than expected. I get this special talk and a date, too; what a special day this day is.

I move the table and chair into the research lab while beaming, arranging the small blackboard and duster, then I prepare some snacks and tea. Then the preparations are complete.

A special talk.

This is a private talk that Professor organizes for me time after time.

Professor organizes a lecture at Oval University each week. As she’s a young genius who’s at the forefront of robot engineering, the classroom is always stuffed full of people, and quite a lot of people from other universities go to listen, too.

Professor’s lectures are very special and would start talks with philosophical topics like ‘Robots and Ethics,’ ‘Robots and Love’ and so on. Learning about these lectures a long time ago, I shouted “I want to join too!,” but in the end, I couldn’t go. I want to see with my own eyes, Professor standing on the stage with her white robe and holding a cane, teaching with a heroic posture and cold tone. As robots don’t have the right to go to school, attending sneakily would just affect Professor’s stand. As I was about to give up, Professor gave me a suggestion:

“Why don’t we just have the lecture at home?”

From that time on, Wendy von Umbrella started to organize special lectures for Iris Rain Umbrella alone.

I take out my thick notebook from my beloved folder. The notebook was jotted full of questions that I asked during the previous lectures.

For example,

“Do robots undergo psychological growth?”

“Do robots undergo puberty and rebellious stages?”

“What are the differences between the emotions of robots and humans?”

“Can robots go to heaven too?”

“Might there be a day when humans marry robots?”

“How much does Professor love me?”

Though it was mixed with a few personal questions, these are still in a tolerable area. This is a personal talk, after all.

“Alright, please get back to your seat.”

Professor walks into the lab. Today, she is still wearing a white robe on top of her suit, her beautiful hair tied up behind her. On the other hand, I’m still wearing my usual maid outfit, so our combination is rather strange.

Professor place her hands on the old wooden lectern that she brought from the university, saying: “Starting roll call.”

“Iris Rain Umbrella.”

“Here! Here, here, here!”

I poke out my body from the table, raising my hand energetically like a kid who just started school.”

“Miss Iris.”

“What is it!”

“Saying ‘here’ once would be enough.”

“Understood!”

I am extremely happy at this moment. It would be nice if robots could go to school one day.

Professor coughs for a moment, then started the lecture with a ‘Well, please turn to page fifty two.’

I open the textbook that Professor uses in the university. As I read it quite a lot of times already, the book is quite tattered.

“The theme of the lecture today is ‘What is the meaning of the existence of a robot.’ Recently, this type of research is categorized as robot psychology. A thesis that I spoke of about eight years ago initiated a hot discussion……”

Professor says that rapidly. The blackboard is gradually covered with Professor’s beautiful writing.

I am recording Professor’s words onto the notebook. Of course, saving the contents on the blackboard in my mental circuit can be done, but it wouldn’t have the feel of a lecture if so. The most important thing is the atmosphere and our attitudes.

After thirty minutes.

“…… Hmm, the above is the history of the ‘meaning of life’ and ‘mental hygiene’ from older models to newer models of robots. Though the arrangement is rather ugly from an academic view, but it might be able to help out students who are looking for a reference. …… Any questions?”

“Here!”

I raise my right hand and wave it with all my might. But there’s only one student here anyways.

“Miss Iris.”

“Your lecture is very interesting, thank you for that!”

The first thing is to be courteous.

“Then, about the ‘meaning of existence’ that professor mentioned just now, does it include ‘robots must serve their masters’?”

“Of course. Learning robots are prevalent among family robots; the direct meaning of their existence is to serve the robot user.”

“Then the meaning of my existence is to serve Professor, that’s for sure.”

“How did you get to that conclusion?”

“Because I love Professor.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Saying ‘okay’ once would be enough; Professor said that.”

“You are really so fussy.”

Professor heaves a sigh.

While jotting down the tables and explanations on the blackboard, I ponder today’s theme – the meaning of our existence. Lastly, after I hand in a simple report of my thoughts, the lecture would end.

“Alright, I’m done!”

“Wow, you’re quick.”

Like a detective who solved a hard case, I slap the report onto the lectern.

“Impression Report (Eighteenth time)” Theme……. Robots and Meaning of Existence.

The meaning of my existence is Professor. My beloved Professor. I love you, Professor. Marry me, Professor. End!

After reading my report, Professor’s expression becomes as awkward as an old police who had the limelight stolen by a detective.

“Erm, Miss Iris.”

“What is it!”

“Your report has only one row.”

“That row has everything!”

“How unmotivated are you.”

“I’m full of motivation!”

“Are you looking down on me?”

“I cannot deny the possibility!”

After heaving a sigh, Professor fishes out a circlet cigarette from her cigarette case.

She breaks the 8-shaped circlet cigarette into half, then pops one into her mouth.

“Professor, cigarettes……”

“It’s okay. This isn’t the university anyways.”

“No, not that…… No smoking in the lab.”

“Ah.”

As if she is throwing a tantrum, she declares while pouting: “Then that’s the end of the lecture today!”

She takes off her white robe, throws it onto the table, and leaves the classroom speedily with purple smoke behind her. “Really.” The word faintly drifted over along with the smoke.

I pick up the report that I wrote. A large red word is written at the center— “REDO”

The prank today might be a little bit too much. As the special lectures are the only rare times when I can make fun of Professor, I couldn’t resist it.

I should send her some red tea and cake after this to improve her mood.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 5 Days Before|Dismantling- 5 Days Before]]
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| Forward to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 3 Days Before|Dismantling- 3 Days Before]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

User talk:Jrdp 18

2013-07-14T12:20:55Z

Jrdp 18: Just making the links blue.

There's nothing to discuss, period. :P

User:Jrdp 18

2013-07-14T12:19:31Z

Jrdp 18: Created my page.

Just your average reader of less popular novels; editing some errors she finds along the way.

<Agh, specified my gender. OTL>

Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 5 Days Before

2013-07-14T12:02:04Z

Jrdp 18:

===Five Days Before===

On the day after maintenance.

I continue to sweep the floor and wash the clothes as usual, but I have a lot of free time after noon. Well, it’s the fault of my personality because I just feel uncomfortable if I don’t get the housework done quickly.

— Then.

The approximate time for Professor’s return is twelve minutes after four.

“Hmm, remote, remote…….”

I shout “Found it,” lie down after picking up the remote from the table, and turn on the television. It would be much more convenient had I hidden a remote inside my body, but it’s a pity that I don’t have that function. Professor once said, “If I installed such a silly thing, doing maintenance would be much more troublesome.”

The large screen is showing today’s news. Political scandals, the situation of the army in the north, and a murder case somewhere. I blankly stare at the nimbly moving mouth of the female presenter.

— Mnn, it’s so boring.

I retain my current position and press the buttons on the remote, which makes clicking noises. The pictures on the screen change periodically, but there aren't any of the cooking shows or game shows that I like.

I reluctantly change it back to the news, and ‘that’ suddenly appears before me.

“About one this afternoon, a robot suddenly went on a rampage at Oval Station in the Venus Fountain Plaza.”

Venus Fountain Plaza is the place where the goddess statue that looks extremely alike to Professor is.

The news broadcast reported that a large robot that worked in a second hand parts shop nearby had shouted and then suddenly went on a rampage. The robot hit and smashed the wall of the shop, then shifted to the fountain plaza. After receiving a call, the police responded to the location to deal with the problem.

“Here’s a recording of the incident.”

After the presenter finishes talking, the picture cuts to a different scene.

It’s probably the recording taken from a surveillance camera. On the screen, a gray cylindrical robot comes over and waves his arms around. He repeatedly hits the walls of the shop, looking like a young, energetic person in the movies with young, passionate actors, and seems quite human. A few clear scratches like lightning bolts can be seen on his broad back.

Finally, the robot shakily walks to the plaza.

— Ahhh, that won't do.

I pray in my heart.

— You can’t go there.

But my wishes aren't transmitted to him. The robot steps into the crowded plaza. As expected, his actions create a huge disturbance as the elderly people who were talking, the noisy kids, and the cuddling couples scattered.

The robot stood alone after the people had left. Only the fountain rhythmically danced behind the robot standing blankly there, forming countless droplets of rainbow-colored water. The deceptively harmonious scene belies the reality of the situation.

And then in an instant-

A few blue spots appear on the body of the robot like perched fireflies. The robot lowers his head slowly to look at the spots, then a beam of laser suddenly pierces the air. The laser beam penetrates the heavy, metal skin of the robot and gouts of steam erupt as violently as lava when it touches the fountain.

It was a police laser rifle.

A second shot. The laser emits a deep sound. The beam slices through the air and cuts off the right arm of the robot from the shoulder. It falls to the ground with a 'clunk.' The robot bends down to pick up his right arm, and the third shot hits him squarely. His outstretched left hand is englobed by blue radiance like a ball of glass on a glassblower's wand emitting cruel sparks.

Not long after that, the fourth shot robs the robot of his right leg, causing him to lose balance, then the fifth, sixth and seventh shot hit him—

— Ahhhh, stop it, I don’t want to watch anymore!

One could say that he was simply annihilated. Around thirty seconds after the first shot, the sundered face was the largest remaining part of the robot’s body.

The robot now silent, five people wearing a metal helmet like a fish bowl rush to the scene. They are the special police unit fully equipped with silver armor and are called the Waste Clearing Troop. They were wielding the laser rifles with a sharp, sphere shaped magazine, about a meter long— this is the special gun used by the unit against robots.

When they begin to collect the scattered robot parts, one of them picks up the ‘head’ of the robot and raises it into the air like a war spoil. Black machine oil flows out of the head like blood, spattering the ground with oily spots.

I'm repulsed by the sight. I feel my gorge rising in the back of my throat.

After the recording stops, the face of the presenter appears again on the screen. She said this was the third robot crime in Oval City this month.

Robot crime. That's what they call it when a robot commits a crime.

There are two categories of robot crime: The first is a crime caused by the human using a robot, the second is a crime caused by the robot going on a rampage himself. How does one determine whether a robot went on a rampage because of technical failures or because of his owner’s orders? The officials and the ‘judiciary dissection unit’ can't.

Robot rampage incidents occur less than one percent as often as do car accidents, but the news always exaggerates it. Because of public pressure, the robot manufacturers might have to recall their products. The process of handling the matter is actually similar to other consumer products, but because a robot costs about as much as a luxury car, it is a heavy blow to the manufacturers. Cases of manufacturers going bankrupt because of having to recall their products too often aren’t uncommon.

— I shouldn’t watch this.

I turn off the television and lie down on the mat in a ‘大’shape, closing my eyes.

When robots want to calm down, they close their eyes. Temporarily shutting down the visual senses has the effect of resting the stimuli processing function of the mental circuits.

I hadn't noticed that it's raining outside. I can hear only the constant sound of the rain in the room.

The video of a wretched robot starts to surface behind my eyelids. The parts of the robot would appear on the second hand parts market, or would be completely melted into scrap metal. After all, he suddenly went on a rampage, destroying public facilities and the peace. One really couldn't expect anything else but to become scrap metal.

— But.

A question remains in my heart.

Why did he suddenly go on a rampage?

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 6 Days Before|Dismantling- 6 Days Before]]
| Return to [[Iris on Rainy Days|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 4 Days Before|Dismantling- 4 Days Before]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 6 Days Before

2013-07-14T11:52:28Z

Jrdp 18:

===Six Days Before===

“Thanks for your patronage!”

The voice of the butcher is full of vigor, as usual, and rang loudly behind me. I start to walk on the road that leads to the Umbrella residence. I carried an enormous La Bier fish on my back yesterday, while I’m carrying a tea colored leg of a cow and a white spring onion on my back today. I look like I’m dual wielding beef shank and onions.

I walk forward quickly, with the eyes of the pedestrians on me. When I think about it, the dinner menu of the Umbrella residence is always on display to the people of the city. It was La Bier stew pot last night, while tonight it’s beef soup with onions à l'Oval.

Going around the corner and walking through the Venus Fountain Plaza, I arrive at Commerce Avenue.

Oval City is picturesque, with canals flowing around it and looks like an oval from the air. This area was formerly plagued by floods, but the population - of both tourists and citizens - has been continuously growing since the drainage system and sewers were completed. By the way, Professor's workplace – Oval University First Robotics Laboratory – is the tallest building in the city.

The robot research centre has almost entirely become a tourist destination, so the citizens of Oval City are quite tolerant of robots. At least there aren’t signs saying ‘Robots are Prohibited’ hung in buses or restaurants. But even in a city like this, not everyone is tolerant of robots. Just now, some housewives who live nearby were gossiping “Look, it's that woman professor's robot” “It’s so obscene……”. I didn't listen to their conversation deliberately, it’s just that I have a subroutine for automatically detecting sounds near me.

First, I must emphasise: I am an ordinary robot created by Professor for doing housework, and my certification number is HRM021-α. My job is to do all the housework and chat with Professor. There really isn't anything beyond that. It’s just that many people like to gossip, and the rumours only get worse with time. Among the more malicious rumors is that the top robot researcher Wendy von Umbrella is a lesbian and has an unhealthy interest in robots modelled after young girls — that sort of thing. It’s probably because Professor is single and has spurned all suitors that rumours like this appeared.

There actually are quite a few users who use female robots for “that sort of thing.” Not only can I not deny it, but the profits from that market segment support a large part of the robot industry. Some rich people even buy quite a few robots of the same model, to create a ‘virtual harem.’

That's as may be, but Professor isn't like that.

I've served her for three years and Professor has never made any sexual requests of me. She just doesn't do that sort of thing.

Professor created me because of her ‘sister’ who died in an accident.

One autumn day four years ago, the Umbrella sisters went on vacation together. Professor drove the car. On the way to their destination, they collided head-on with a truck that had crossed the centre line. The party at fault was obviously the truck driver, but Professor felt responsible for her sister’s death. From that day on the Umbrella residence keeps no cars.

Since their parents died when they were young, the sisters had relied upon each other for support. The accident meant that Professor suddenly lost her one and only family member — her sister.

Her sister was Iris Rain Umbrella. And so that is my name too.

I am a ‘replacement’ for her sister. Similar to the circlet cigarettes that are a replacement for normal cigarettes, we are just counterfeits that appear exactly like the real thing. Every time my profile is reflected in Professor’s eyes, she looks not for me, but for her sister in me.

I'm okay with that. Professor has always taken care of me; if I want to go out and play or desire something, she will usually heed my request. And the most important thing is that she is gentle toward me. If I am not satisfied with this, then I’m really just too hard to please.

Sometimes — just sometimes — there is a small pain in my chest like a prick from a rose thorn, but I’m used to it.

<center>♠</center>

Today after dinner it’s time for my weekly maintenance.

“Let's get started~”

Donning a white robe, Professor walks into the research lab. A thick stack of folders is in her hands. Seeing this scene, I show her a dissatisfied expression and turn my head.

It’s because I hate the maintenance process.

“Don’t move.”

Professor immediately takes out a pencil flashlight from her pocket, then flipped the switch with a click, shining the ray of light on my eyes. This process is not to assess death, but just a simple test to determine if my pupils are functioning properly.

After that, Professor takes out a few cards and shuffles them exaggeratedly like a magician, then quickly places them in front of me. I directly answer the pictures that I saw— “Star, cross, apple, square.”

“That’s great.”

My dynamic visual system seems to be functioning well.

Then, Professor says like a nanny taking care of a child: “Alright, ahh~.” Suddenly, I feel rather embarrassed. Professor pries my mouth open with her fingers that are wearing gloves, carefully examining the condition of my mouth. I cannot keep from emitting strange huffing sounds.

Professor rapidly writes down the results on a paper form beside her. It's an official document that will go to a government office after this. The law states that a normal family robot has to have regular check-ups twice a year.

For me, it’s every week. Probably because I’m a new model robot, I have to undergo various check ups.

“Next is the skin exam.”

—it’s here! The skin exam!

As its name suggests, this is an examination of the surface of my skin. Which means—

I must take off my clothes.

“First, your face.”

Professor holds my face with both of her hands, pulling me closer to her.

—Uwaa!

Professor stares at my face like she is going to burn a hole on it. Her dark amber irises come closer to me.

“Hmm……” Professor observes me with a serious gaze as if she is thinking about licking my face. I'm frozen, but my heart pounds frantically. If I move even a bit, our faces would touch.

“The skin on your face is okay.” Professor jots down the results. Then, she says as if nothing happened: “Then take off your clothes.”

“Ye- Yes ma'am……” 

I nervously take off my socks and place them into the clothing basket. Then, I take off my maid headdress, apron and dress, leaving only my bra and shorts on. I don't feel cold at all. In fact, my body feels burning hot.

The reason Professor asked me to take off my clothes is not because of some lewd interest. The skin exam is a check up to determine if there are any scratches or changes on my artificial skin. Face, neck, shoulders, arms, belly and back, Professor checks them all with a serious gaze.

— Ahh….. huu.

My artificial skin can sense Professor’s breath, so I have goosebumps on my back. Though I have gone through this examination every week for three years, I still haven’t gotten used to it.

“Alright, take off your bra.”

“Uuu……”

“What is it?”

I mentally brace myself, saying “No…… Nevermind” while extending my hand to my back. If I didn't cooperate, it would just extend the time the exam takes.

I take off my light blue bra, showing my white breasts. Not too big or small, Professor said that the soft shape perfectly suits a young girl of this age. I was modelled on Professor’s sister, so her breasts were probably like this too.

Professor takes off her glasses and looks carefully. I am so embarrassed that I can almost breathe fire.

“Okay, take off your panties too.”

Professor jots down the results on the paper and coolly gives me my next instruction.

— Uuuuu.

I place my fingers on my panties and unwillingly take them off. I'm so embarrassed that I feel I might faint.

After taking off my panties, I am totally nude.

“Let’s see……”

Professor immediately squats down in front of me. Then, she closely examines my ‘front’ and ‘back.’ I can feel Professor’s breath, and her forehead lightly touches my lower abdomen. If other people see this scene, they would definitely get the wrong impression.

“Hmm…… This is……”

Professor’s cool voice suddenly becomes rough. She seems to have found ‘that.’

“The spots again?”

I ask her, while Professor says while checking: “Yes. There’s one at the right side of your butt.” Then, she uses her finger to touch the position of the spot. My body swayed lightly.

“It has a diameter of five centimetres, and is light purple……”

Professor writes down the characteristics of the spot on the paper. For some reason, my body would sometimes be mottled with small spots. Their position varies. Sometimes they even appear on my face. I was shocked at the start, but I’m used to it now.

“Can it be fixed?”

“Of course.”

Professor takes out a machine that is even thinner than the pen-shaped flashlight and presses it onto my bottom. This method is called the optical segregation cleaning method, or just ‘clearing stains’ on my artificial skin.

“There.”

Professor slaps my bottom with a thwack. I lightly touch it, then quickly put on my panties and my bra. It’s lucky that the spot today is small. If the spot is too big, I would have to continue to stand here nude.

“Let’s have a short break.”

After saying that, Professor leaves the research lab. As smoking is prohibited here, she is going to smoke her cigarette in the corridor.

The examination is finally over. I relax and heave a sigh.

For the sake of Professor’s reputation I should explain a bit— Professor is examining me personally and not taking me to a specialist because I would otherwise have to go to specialized agencies for maintenance if I refused her exam. I would have to show my nude body to the male technicians. Even the thought is scary...

So, Professor got a robot technician certification and shoulders the responsibility of my maintenance. It also eliminates the fussy procedures of going to the various governmental departments. I can be examined at home like this only because Professor's cares for me.

—I understand that, but……

Professor sits back onto the chair after five minutes, saying “Well,” and crosses her arm. There are still many examination documents, and I have to undergo a scan of my mental circuits, action control verification and the examination of my safety circuits.

Feeling depressed, I stare at Professor grudgingly like a child looking at a doctor holding a hypodermic needle.

After noticing my gaze, Professor says in the strange tone of a spoiled girl “Ara, Miss Iris, do you have something to say?” Her mouth seems to indicate faint amusement.

“Nothing!”

I unhappily turn my face away.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 7 Days Before|Dismantling- 7 Days Before]]
| Return to [[Iris on Rainy Days|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 5 Days Before|Dismantling- 5 Days Before]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 7 Days Before

2013-07-14T11:41:06Z

Jrdp 18: /* Dismantling: 7 Days Before */

=='''Chapter 1 - Dismantling'''==
[[File:Iris on Rainy Days p012.jpg|200px|thumb]]
"Take care on the road! Come home earlier!" (Iris Rain Umbrella)

===Dismantling: 7 Days Before===


At the center of the Venus Fountain Plaza, there stands the statue of a stunning goddess.

She has slim limbs, skin as white as silk, and a great figure. Today, the goddess still wears a gentle smile on her face, silently observing the surrounding crowd.

Oval City had once burned in the flames of war. When most of the town was burnt to the ground, only the goddess statue miraculously survived without so much as a scratch. From that day on, the statue of the goddess became a symbol of hope and revival, and has been protected as the most important cultural asset of our country.

Beside the 170 centimeter tall goddess statue, the fountain is blooming flowers of water, in rainbow colors. On the dark tea-colored benches that were placed around the fountain, old men chat with each other, children play around, and lovers proclaim their love for each other. The harmonious scene looks like it came from a painting.

—it's indeed similar.

I hear a squeaking sound start, and I adjust the pupil function of my visual system. After focusing on the white goddess statue, I sigh lightly.

The goddess statue looks like Professor. Professor is the top researcher of robots, Doctor Wendy von Umbrella, Ph. D. I'm proud of her: she has a tall figure, beautiful, luscious, black hair, and wears glasses with a sleek, silver frame that suit her very much.

While thinking of Professor's shapely form, I stare blankly at the goddess statue when the sweet sour smell of circlet cigarette floated over. I start to turn the angle of my neck, confirming the source of the fragrance.

The person who sat on the bench, smoking a circlet cigarette, is a middle aged man wearing a dark blue suit. He is reading today's copy of Oval Daily; but just now, he started to peek at me every now and again. I use a gentle smile to greet him, and he shyly shifts his gaze.

Circlet cigarettes, by the way, are a product used for smoking cessation. The shape is as suggested by the word 'circlet', and the size is about the size of a circle made with thumb and index finger. When people get one out to smoke it, the ring-shaped cigarette immediately straightens, and then the tip of the cigarette can then be lit.

Although it is a replacement for tobacco that was made to occupy the mouths of smokers who are trying to quit, recently more and more smokers are buying it because they like the scent. The most popular circlet cigarette is the type that combines two circlets into the shape of the number 8. This type of cigarette can be split into two halves, half of it to smoke, and the other half to hold the ashes.

I know about all of this because Professor Umbrella loves this type of circlet cigarette.

— Mnn.

I shift my gaze to the goddess statue again, and suddenly start to ponder. The goddess statue looks very similar to the tall professor. However, I just have this feeling that it is lacking 'something'. Every time I see it, I would have this uncoordinated feeling in me.

When this meaningless question surfaced in my mind, time's up.

— In five minutes, you will be unable to reach home by the scheduled time.

The inorganic, electronic voice of my mental circuit starts urging me to hurry home.

— Alright then, it's almost time to go.

With my back to the plaza, I start to walk home quickly. The shopping basket in my right hand is stuffed full of the ingredients for today's dinner, and a glittering silver La Bier fish is tied to my back, causing the pedestrians who pass by to turn their head around when they see it. Their surprise is only natural, since they're seeing me carry a huge, one meter long fish while I'm only a hundred and fifty centimeter tall myself. But after they notice that I am actually a robot, they showed an expression that suggested understanding.

Differentiating between humans and robot is very simple. The ones that have a round antenna on their ears (It looks really like an earphone) are robots, the ones who don't are humans. "It's the robot from the Umbrella residence!"— a voice clearly projects into my auditory system. So, I smiled back at the person. Though robots used in families is not uncommon, but since Professor is a famous person, I get noticed sometimes when I walk in the streets.

After walking about ten minutes from the Fountain Plaza, I arrive at the Umbrella residence. Looking at the blue, ivy-covered door, I say: "Certification number HRM021-α, Iris Rain Umbrella. I'm back." After the electronic voice says "Certification complete, please enter", the big door opens silently.

The Umbrella residence is a grand mansion. There is a courtyard here the size of three station squares, and it is a large residence comparable to mansions of administrators. The red brick outer wall makes people understand the grandeur of the history and traditions of the Umbrella family.

After entering the mansion, a luxurious hall can be seen immediately. The sunlight entering from the skylight passes through the chandeliers, giving out a colourful radiance. The carpet spread on the floor is similar to the style of the ones in old castles. Large paintings are hung on the walls. Each is worth enough to provide a luxurious life.

Passing through the corridor with the exquisitely shining floor, I first place the fish in the freezer. I feel much better after that, and I start to walk towards the west-most room on that floor— the research room. The research room is stuffed full of materials and tools, the clean but chilly space is like a snowy field on a winter day.

Sitting on the creamy white bed near the wall, I first check my status meter.

Battery level 82.50%, waste in body 1.73%. The energy level is more than enough for labour, but Professor had ordered me to recharge. So I will charge.

After sterilizing the long, thin tube with a chemical twice, I open the lock on my wrist, showing the connection plug. If I made a mistake in the steps, the black machine oil might splatter all over the room, so I must be quite careful.

I insert the tube into my right and left hand in succession, then pressed the switch on the machine. Electric power and additional lubricating oil slowly flow into the connection plug on my right wrist. At the same time, the tea-colored waste in my body is sucked out of my left wrist.

The introduction manuals for robot maintenance usually say that the system is similar to humans using IV drips. Really though, the system excretes and cleans the body's internals, so it is more like artificial dialysis than IV drips.

I look up while charging my battery, staring at the metal sheeting on the ceiling. The mirror finish reflects my whole body.

There's not technically much difference in gender in robots, but I appear to be a girl. My age is set at fifteen. I have blue eyes with delicate eyebrows and maroon, slightly wavy, shoulder-length hair. The length of my limbs is similar to Professor's, and my face is that of a beauty, just like professor— I know it is so because Professor is always praising my cuteness - it's not just my opinion.

The maid costume that I am wearing was designed in a fairy tale style. A maid's headdress lightly waves on my head, while the cutting of the apron emphasizes the curves of my breasts. The peach coloured dress tightens at the waist, while the dress itself is quite loose, and would make people think of a wedding dress. Where did Professor buy such a lovely maid's costume, I wonder? Even now it's still a mystery.

After twelve minutes and one second, the process of charging finished. Battery level 99.93%, body waste 0.02%.

—Alright, target level achieved.

I jump down from the bed, leaving the research room. My destination is the kitchen, because I have to prepare dinner.

In the large kitchen that is not inferior to high classed restaurants, I start to make a Bill La Bier stew pot. There's a lot of pots, sinks and gas stoves here, but I would always cook at the left side of the kitchen. Professor is very rich, and she could even hire over ten, or even over twenty chefs, but she didn't hire any up till now. Not only a chef, she didn't even hire other maids, and I have to handle the whole large Umbrella residence. I could only use all my effort, diligently finish the chores like cooking, washing the clothes and sweeping the floor.

I quickly cut the La Bier fish, and lightly pick up the pieces of peach-coloured fish.

—200.0025 grams.

While referring to the recipe searched from my mental circuit, I finish the preparations of making the Bill Labier stew pot. By the way, "La Bier" is a fish very similar to salmon, while "La Bier" is actually the name of a person. I'd heard that a fisherman called La Bier caught a large La Bier fish long ago, then he needed an entire night to finish the whole fish. His way of cooking is was to cut the fish into big pieces, then stew it with the spices— that's the origin of the La Bier stew pot. It sounds like a simple dish, but if you want to cook it well, there's quite a bit of technique involved. For instance, you have to accurately handle the fire and patiently scoop out the foam.

From the moment I pick up the kitchen knife, twenty seven minutes and twelve seconds have passed, and my job is done. I store the remaining food in the freezer. Professor doesn't have many visitors, so these leftover portions will probably go to waste in the freezer. With the large amount of ingredients bought and the large kitchen, the Umbrella residence is usually that wasteful.

As I complain in a small voice, an electronic voice rings in my mind.

— Professor Wendy von Umbrella has returned.

"She's back!"

I rush out of the kitchen, passing through the hall, and violently pull open the doors to the outside. My dress fluttering in the wind, I start to run to the forecourt.

— Professor! Professor!! Professor!!!

The person passing through the gate, is a tall, black haired woman wearing a jacket that is light like a swan, and looks incomparably beautiful although it doesn't seem like she has any make up on — my Professor walks over to me slowly. And then, she waves suddenly to me.

Not caring about the battery loss, I run with all my strength to the professor. I am running with the speed of a hundred meters in nine seconds, and emergency brake three meters in front of Professor. I am not sweating, or even panting, but my body is giving off heat like a steaming stove, as if my body has been lit up. The image of Professor swirls in my mental circuit.

"Welcome back, Professor!"

I open my arms while beaming, welcoming the return of Professor. While I am somewhat over-reacting, this is just a way of showing my love for Professor.

Professor looks at me, with a gentle smile. She puts out the fire of her circlet cigarette and keeps the ash tray. My olfactory system detected a sweet sour smell after that.

"I'm back, Iris. Have you been a good girl today, too?"

That is a somewhat deep, cool and quiet voice for a female. The silver framed glasses on her nose makes her wise face even more striking.

"Yes! Professor's Iris has been a very, very good girl today too!"

"Is that so. What about dinner?"

"It's the same as what I told you, a La Bier stew pot!"

"What a good girl you are."

Professor extends her right hand to me.

— Alright, it's coming!

I happily wait for that moment.

Professor's hand lightly touches the top of my head. She used a gentle, but somewhat rough movement to caress my maroon hair.

This is truly an incomparable happiness.

I look just like a kitten that had been caressed, making satisfied sounds with my throat. I enjoy the pleasure of contact with Professor's gentle hand, and the sweet sour smell of the tobacco that tickles the nose.

<center>♠</center>
Dinner time has always been the most nervous time for me.

Professor slowly scoops out a piece of La Bier fish from the pot. She continues to use a small knife to cut the fish, sticks a fork into it then swallows it with her rose colored lips.

Because of the chewing action, Professor's face is moving slightly. I stare at her face, slightly worried.

— Professor, how is it? Is it good? Hmm? Is it?

I ask repeatedly in my heart, waiting for Professor to express her thoughts.

"Hmm......"

Professor twists her neck. Then, my mental circuit suddenly cools down. Describing from the angle of a human, that would mean that a chill went up my back.

"E- e- e- errmmm, I- I- I- I- I- is there a problem with it?"

I ask in a rapid fire speed, feeling slightly dizzy. For Iris Rain Umbrella who is proud of her ability of doing chores, being told that my cooking is bad would be the same as questioning the meaning of my existence.

"To be frank......"

Professor raised one of her beautiful eyebrows, saying with an obviously displeased tone.

"To- to be frank?" I waited nervously for her next comment.

However, Professor's mouth slightly curls, a smile surfacing on her face. She says suddenly.

"It's really good."

I am quite shocked, and couldn't help but make an idiotic "...... Eh?" sound.

"Ah...... Eh? Aren't you disliking it......"

"No, it's very tasty. And the handling of the fire is especially good."

"............"

"Oh? What's the matter, Iris? Why are you showing me a tongue-tied expression?"

You can say that Professor is an S. The S in S&M. A sadist. She always uses these simple traps to trick me. By the way, this is already the twenty forth time. The pitiful thing about robots is that they even remember how many times meaningless things like this occur.
[[File:Iris on Rainy Days p025.jpg|200px|thumb]]
"Really, Professor! Haven't I said not to make that kind of joke!"

I throw the napkin at Professor angrily.

"Oi oi, that's too much of a waste."

"According to your words, the La Bier stew pot today is the wasteful one! Telling me to buy a whole fish, what are you preparing to do with it!"

Professor casually answered "I'll finish it after two days," and continues to eat. I answer "You always lie......," crumple the last napkin up, throw it, and it hits Professor's arm with a plop.

"Mnn, it really is tasty. Iris is really good at cooking."

Professor comments deliberately, and places another piece of La Bier fish into her mouth. Although I feel somewhat frustrated, but seeing Professor enjoying the stew, a note of satisfaction appeared in my heart.

After dinner, Professor goes to the washroom. While cleaning up the dishes, I recall Professor's childish actions, laughing for a moment, being annoyed for a moment, but a smile still surfaced on my face in the end.

Today, Professor is still pretty, likes to bully people, is gentle and stroked my hair.

— Mmm, right now I'm speechless with contentment.

The peaceful night slowly passes, and then it is bedtime. I change into my beloved pajamas with pictures of flowers on them, then knock on Professor's bedroom door.

"Professor, sorry for bothering you."

I walk into the room. As usual, Professor is wearing purple pajamas slightly open at the chest, and is lying on her bed. She has a circlet cigarette in her mouth. The sweat sour smell is mixed with a slight smell of peppermint, and the smell floated over along with the smoke. The slogan used on television is "The taste of your first love," and I think that it's quite apt. That's right— it's the taste of the first love to me. The love between Professor and I— I really want to feel that too, but the only one in love is me, Professor is always calm.

I understand these feelings would only be useless, so it's better for me to be careful.

"Professor, smoking on the bed is too impolite."

"It's not against the law."

"And it could cause a fire."

"I never heard of cigarettes causing fires."

Professor looks at the ceiling, continuing to puff out smoke. Ah, that's right, 'cigarette' is another name for circlet cigarettes.

"The total data says that eight incidents occurred this year."

I block Professor's vision determinedly, looking at her from above. The smoke almost burned my eyes.

"How many times had it happened in Oval Town?" Professor continues to smoke.

"...... Zero."

"Then it's okay."

"But you can't use that as an excuse, Professor."

I stubbornly snatch the cigarette away from Professor's mouth. "Ah, give it back!" Professor sits up, extending her hand to my elbow.

As revenge for Professor making fun of me during dinner, I run around the room while holding the cigarette. Professor gets up from bed too, chasing me. I hide behind tables and chairs so that Professor cannot catch me. Although it's childish, there's still an undeniable charm to it.

After playing two short rounds of catch in the room, Professor says "It's time for bed" and takes off her silver framed glasses. She stares at me with her eyes like a colourful glass. Professor is a beauty when she wears her glasses, and she is still a beauty after she takes off her glasses.

—Ah.

The goddess statue isn't wearing glasses.

"What is it?" Professor stares at me from the bed. I lightly tilted my head, honestly speaking my thoughts: "Professor is indeed...... suited for glasses and cigarettes."

"Huh? Why are you suddenly saying that."

"No, that's just my thoughts. ...... Then Professor, is it okay?"

This question means, "May I snuggle into Professor's blanket?"

"Be my guest."

Professor lifts up her blanket and waves to me. I say "Excuse me," then nervously lie down beside professor. After that, I curl up my body and raise my head to look at Professor.

We are very close together, and I can see myself reflected in Professor's pupils.

"Good night, Professor."

I bury my head in Professor's large, soft hills. It's so soft and has a nice fragrance to it.

Professor hugs me gently, stroking my hair. Then, she says "Goodnight, Iris" and kisses my forehead.

After changing my status to sleep mode, I enter the world of slumber.

I had a happy day today, too.

<noinclude>
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|-
| Back to [[Iris on Rainy Days:Prologue|Prologue]]
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| Forward to [[Iris on Rainy Days: Dismantling- 6 Days Before|Dismantling- 6 Days Before]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Maria-sama ga Miteru:Volume27 Chapter4 1

2012-05-03T06:41:08Z

Jrdp 18: /* At the Outset of the Date. Part 1 */

=== <noinclude>At the Outset of the Date. </noinclude>Part 1 ===

Without going into every little detail, the days passed quickly enough.

It was the Sunday of the week following the treasure hunt. Right on 11am.

Yoshino stepped into the plaza on the first floor of the JR K Station building.

"Ah. Yoshino-san, gokigenyou."

Who knows what time she got there, but Tanuma Chisato-san was already at their appointed meeting place, and when she saw Yoshino she smiled and waved gently.

She was wearing the same coat that she'd had on for her date with Rei-chan last year, but underneath that she was clearly wearing a pair of jeans and sneakers. A huge departure from the red, white and pink fluffy skirt. It seemed obvious, but her style probably reflected her emotional involvement in the date. But then again, Yoshino was wearing something similar, so they were at least equal in that regard.

"… Gokigenyou."

Stifling a yawn, Yoshino started by returning the greeting. Not good. She'd had a little nap in the car, and that seemed to have encouraged her weariness, so try as she might to fight it off it kept assailing her.

"Did you ride here?"

In response to Chisato-san's question, Yoshino shook her head.

"Huh, you caught the bus!?"

The accusatory tone she used was quite offensive.

"I did not. My father drove me here in his car."

Before she knew it, it was past the time when she would have had to leave to make it to their date by bike.

"Well, I guess that can't be helped."

"It's alright for you, Chisato-san. You can get to K Station using your commuter pass. But I walk to school. Telling me to come by bike to save on travel costs, that's not fair."

"I said it can't be helped, didn't I? Stop trying to pick a fight."

"But your tone of voice was annoying. It was my father's car, so that should be fine. In the report, we can just say I rode here if you want."

"What are you going to do about getting home? We're on a really tight budget, you know."

"I'll pay for it myself."

Even Rei-chan, last year she secretly put in some of her own money, so as long as it wasn't written about in the report, it should be fine.

"If you start saying that sort of thing, where will it end?"

Then Chisato-san went on a bit of a rant about how the date would be fun staying within the budget, and that there would be others who would try to copy their date, so they had to keep to the allotted amount.

"Well, it's fine. There should be enough left over for your bus fare home. Let's go. Time's wasting."

In the end, if you're just going to say, "It's fine," then don't bother bringing up the complaint to begin with. Yoshino stuck her tongue out behind Chisato-san's back. Chisato-san didn't notice this, and continued on, almost skipping as she walked ahead.

(Oh geeze.)

If things were like this right at the start, would they really be able to get along for their date?

At the very least, Yoshino thought that nobody would want to copy their date.

The place they headed to first was the cinema. The one building contained lots of movie theaters, and they had a few different movies playing simultaneously.

"Two high-school students."

As Chisato-san held out her hand to pay at the ticket counter, Yoshino firmly grabbed it. As if to say, hey, hold on a minute.

"Owww, that hurts, what are you doing?"

What are you doing? Yoshino thought she should be the one saying that.

"Chisato-san. Why are you taking me to this sickly-sweet romance comedy, and acting as though it's the most natural thing in the world?"

"Why? You like it, right? This sort of thing."

"I like it? This sort of thing?"

Yoshino snarled. She'd only seen the TV commercials for this movie, but it was a drama set in France about a beautiful man and woman and how they meet, break up, cross paths, fall in love, overcome obstacles and flirt.

"Huh? A subscriber to Comsos Publishing hates love stories?"

"That's Rei-chan's preference. Mine's something more like this."

Yoshino pointed at one of the giant posters on the wall. The one on the right-hand edge of the four. A young, clean-shaven samurai stood back-to-back with a grizzled old ronin, both had their katana drawn. Incidentally, the other three posters were for the romance movie that Chisato-san had requested, a horror movie, and a kid's anime.

"Ah, don't tell me you like the blue Cosmos books?"

"… You're way off."

Just to explain:

As everyone knows, Cosmos Publishing was the label used by the Kyuuteisha publishing company for books aimed at teenage girls. Within that, blue was used to designate BL, or boys-love stories. They were called that because the color blue was used for the covers. And, as the name implied, a boys-love story was a love story between two boys – well, it could instead be between a man and a boy, or two men – at any rate, there were plenty of girls who preferred reading about love between two males than between a male and a female.

And that's fine for them, but unfortunately Yoshino wasn't one of them. Since she wasn't particularly happy about letting that misunderstanding continue, Yoshino decided to correct Chisato-san.

"What I like isn't the love between two men, it's swordplay between two men."

"Wha?"

"The Lillian Kawaraban got our surveys mixed up. A couple of issues later they printed a tiny correction notice. Got it? Try to remember. What I mostly read is sword-fighting novels."

"Ohh. I only saw the article about your hobbies in the Lillian Kawaraban. Maybe if they'd printed Rei-sama's photo next to the correction."

Well, that sounds about right, Yoshino agreed.

"But, you know, anyone who even jokingly calls themselves a fan of Rei-chan would surely have noticed that her favorite books are from Cosmos Publishing."

She was often carrying them around, and when they released a new book in her favorite series she'd spend her lunch-time reading it.

"Ahh. I thought she might be reading them to fit in with you, Yoshino-san."

"No. Just no."

"Oh, so what about this. It said that your hobby was knitting, was that actually Rei-sama?"

"That's right."

"Ohh, so that's how it is. The mystery is solved."

Chisato-san smiled gleefully.

"What mystery?"

"Yoshino-san, during last year's treasure hunt, you were desperately flipping through the pages of a sewing book, right? I never understood the significance of that. But now, thanks to this, I feel relieved."

Yoshino didn't really understand what Chisato-san was trying to say, or what she was relieved about.

"Well, in that case, why don't you make me feel relieved too?"

Yoshino leaned in a bit closer and forced a smile.

"Huh?"

"The movie, let's go to the action one. 'Young Samurai vs Ronin: Ball and Tusk.' Sounds good, yeah?"

"Nope. I'd always planned that we'd see this one, 'Paris, Arrondissement 21, Je'taime.' And since the date is my reward, we can go wherever I want."

"That's fine. We're at the place you wanted to go to. I didn't say I objected to the cinema. But you can't just go ahead and decide what movie we're going to see by yourself."

"What are you saying? We met at 11 so that we'd be in time for the 11:30 screening. Of course we're going to see this movie."

"'Young Samurai' starts at 11:15, so we can still make it."

Yoshino said, pointing to the session times listed above the ticket counter.

"Buh-boow. It's already 11:16."

Chisato-san said, looking pointedly at her wristwatch. However, Yoshino wasn't going to give up that easily.

"The previews go for 5 or 10 minutes. If we go now, we'll still get there for the film."

"At any rate, no."

"But I – "

In truth, it wasn't as though Yoshino was so annoyed by love stories that she broke out in a rash. If she watched the movie they were discussing, she'd probably enjoy it, more or less. She was only being so obstinate because it's what her partner wanted to see. The mood was such that if she backed down here, then that would mean she was defeated.

"This is a date. We can't go and see different movies."

"I know that."

But having said that, neither of them were willing to take the high road and watch the other's movie.

It wasn't obvious who moved first, but they both drew their right hand back. Scissors-paper-rock.

Go!

"Ahh!"

So much energy. They both went for rock.

"It's a draw … I guess."

The next time around, they both went for paper.

After that it was rock, paper, paper, scissors. The run of ties made it looks as though they really were well suited to each other.

They were both breathing heavily. Even though it was only scissors-paper-rock, they were both going at it hard, using their entire body, and they were getting tired. While this was going on, the clock ticked over to 11:20. The "Young Samurai" previews would surely be over by now.

"Hey, why don't we get someone else to decide instead?"

Chisato-san offered. If they kept going like this, it would never end. In other words, if they couldn't decide themselves, all they could do was entrust it to someone else.

"Alright, but how?"

"We'll go to the same movie as the next customer."

"But doesn't that put me at a disadvantage, in a number of ways."

By saying that, Yoshino was acknowledging that she was disadvantaged because her movie had already started. She looked around the cinema entrance. Then she spotted a guy running from the train station straight towards them.

"Okay, let's see the same movie as the next person."

A single male wouldn't be going to see 'Paris, Arrondissement 21, Je'taime.' He would definitely choose 'Young Samurai vs Ronin: Ball and Tusk.'

"Okay."

Chisato-san agreed, as the running man looked back over his shoulder.

"Ah."

Damn it, Yoshino thought. A woman was following along behind him. A couple might see 'Paris.' Scratch that. It's probably the more likely choice. 'Je'taime', and all that.

"Looks like victory is mine."

Chisato-san smiled, confident in her success.

"Wait, we don't know that."

Once again, Yoshino stopped Chisato-san as she went to buy the tickets.

"Since they're in such a hurry, they might be going to see 'Young Samurai' after all."

They might be hurrying because the previews were already over. And the guy had gone on ahead to buy the tickets, since he was the faster runner.

"It's simply because they want good seats."

"We don't know that."

The guy was running. The girl was running too. In a way, the scene was more suspenseful than a movie.

"Oddly enough, they might keep running past the cinema."

"Hahaha. In that case, it carries over to the next person."

However, that concern was unnecessary.

The male of the pair that they thought were a couple arrived at the entrance to the cinema, then got his breathing under control as he walked over to the ticket counter.

Well then, which one will it be. Yoshino and Chisato-san nervously awaited the outcome. Well, they didn't really have much time to really take it all in. They followed him, because they had to buy the same tickets.

Without hesitation, he stood in front of one of the ticket windows.

(Huh?)

"Two adults."

The ticket window wasn't for either of the movies that Yoshino and Chisato-san had been expecting.

"Did you get them?"

The pair locked arms, and headed towards the movie theater entrance.

"Please hurry. The movie will start any moment now. Next customer?"

The lady at the ticket counter addressed the two that had been left behind, dumbstruck.

There was no point in complaining. It was a rod that they'd made for their own back.

"Two high-school students."

The tickets that had despairingly been purchased were for:

" … 'The Tale of the Blood-stained Mansion.'"

– As suggested by the title, this was quite obviously a horror film.

Maria-sama ga Miteru:Volume27 Chapter3 3

2012-05-03T06:22:12Z

Jrdp 18: /* Unexpected Words. Part 3 */

=== <noinclude>Unexpected Words.</noinclude> Part 3 ===

"Shimako-sama."

Shimako was standing in front of the shelf of dictionaries in the library when a voice called to her from behind. She was about to turn around until she heard a whispered, "Stay like that."

"Won't you take a seat at that table?"

The location she was pointed to was a simple table divided into three sections, each with its own light and chair. It was more suited to solitary study than a group discussion. At present, the right-hand section was being used by another student, but the middle and left-hand sections were free.

"Very well."

Shimako nodded, and walked over to the table. She debated for a while about which chair to take, before deciding on the middle one.

"Pardon me."

She excused herself to the student already seated at the table, then took her chair. When she did, the girl on the right's shoulders seemed to flinch. Perhaps it was because she'd done something unexpected, like sitting across two seats on a train that was going to get crowded.

Even though Shimako had taken her seat, there was no indication that the left seat would be filled. After about a minute, as Shimako was starting to look around, wondering what happened, Igawa Ami-san sat down beside her. If another student hadn't come around looking for a free seat, perhaps she would have been made to wait another two or three minutes.

"Gokigenyou."

Although Shimako thought it unlikely that people would connect them even without the delay between taking their seats, Ami-san undoubtedly considered it a necessary precaution.

"I apologize for the trouble I'm putting you through."

The same blunt manner as always. The difference was she was being more polite.

"Here. This is from the head of the newspaper club – it's the documentation regarding our date."

Underneath the table, Shimako held out the printout so that her neighbor could take it.

"Ah. It's 4,000 yen this year."

Ami-san muttered, quickly scanning the paper.

"You know about last year?"

Shimako asked.

"Yeah. I looked it up, for reference. It was in one of the back issues of the Lillian Kawaraban."

"I see."

They were whispering, but since they were right next to each other their voices carried far enough. Because of the separation, from a distance it would look like they were each working on different things. Ami-san had a book open and was pretending to read, such was the extent she was going to.

"Most things are about the same as last year. That's good."

"It is?"

"Yeah, actually."

This time Ami-san passed a piece of paper to Shimako under the table, apparently she'd already worked out a plan. It was written in pencil on a piece of lined paper.

"This is … "

When Shimako saw the densely packed schedule that covered every place and time, from their meeting to their parting, she was lost for words. Shimako didn't know much about this girl, so she hadn't really been expecting anything, and this was definitely 'nothing.'

"Ah, you know, Ami-san."

"Yes?"

"The date is a reward for the winner, so we can go wherever you would like to go. That's what we were meeting here to discuss, right?"

Shimako said, still unsure of how best to convey this. Had Ami-san come up with this plan, thinking it was for the best?

"Yeah. Of course I know that."

The response seemed to say, "Why are you saying this now?"

" … So you see."

It looked like she'd studied last year's Lillian Kawaraban in quite some detail. How to approach this, so that her feelings weren't hurt.

"If you're using last year as a guide, the winner, Kanina Shizuka-sama, let her classmates plan out their date, and I just went along with it."

Not everything that happened during last year's date was included in the Lillian Kawaraban article. And, of course, the events that happened after Shizuka-sama had gone home (including the appearance of Satou Sei-sama) were not recorded either. Despite that, when reading the article it probably looked as though that date had been planned for Shimako. Although what Ami-san hoped to achieve by taking her on a date she'd already experienced, Shimako didn't really know.

"Is that right?"

Ami-san murmured. Then, while it seemed that she understood, she followed that up immediately with, "Might as well make the most of it." It looked like she had no intention of withdrawing the piece of paper that Shimako held in her hand.

"I think the location's fine. Or do you dislike it? Would it make you uncomfortable?"

She wasn't willing to give an inch, as though it were her last line of defense. It may just have been Ami-san's natural voice, but the way she spoke now seemed to be more pressing.

"Not at all. If that's what you want Ami-san, then I have no objection."

"That's good. Then I'll go home and rework this, expect something even better."

Their conversation had barely concluded and Ami-san was already standing up.

"But, why here?"

Shimako asked, as she held the piece of paper out for Ami-san.

"Because,"

The next moment, Ami-san said something completely unexpected.

"I'm a fan of Rosa Gigantea."

Once more, Shimako was left worrying incessantly.

Maria-sama ga Miteru:Volume31 Chapter10

2011-11-21T16:14:57Z

Jrdp 18: Added a missing letter.

==My Siblings==

I had a brother, one cycle of the Chinese Zodiac older than me.

His name, Norimichi.

Smart and serious – so serious he could be a bit high-strung – but he was always a kind brother to me.

Our parents were proud that he was their son. They seemed worried that his body wasn't that strong, but it's not as though they wished for him to be an Olympic athlete, for to do so would be to incur divine punishment. I think they would have been happy just for him to inherit the temple, which has been in our family for generations.

So, when my older brother was 12 years old and I, the second son, was conceived by chance and born, my mother and father were simply happy that I was healthy, and didn't have any great expectations of me in terms of studying, or following the path of Buddha. A nice thing about that was that I spent my childhood running free across the hills and fields. Whenever he saw my cuts and scrapes, or the insects or plants that I'd brought home as souvenirs, he'd smile at me.

"Masafumi, you're such a free spirit."

When he ruffled my hair, his hands were already the size of an adult's.

My wonderful brother decided, when he was still in school, that he would enter the priesthood and become a Buddhist priest. After graduating from university and while assisting our father, the chief priest, in his duties, he zealously pursued the trainings required to become a chief priest. For my brother, born and raised in the temple, learning the doctrine and the customs would not have been too hard. But the ten day ascetic retreats at places cut off from the outside world were about the limit of what his body could endure. They were far more severe than the trainings he had undertaken when he first joined the priesthood.

When I was in fifth grade, my brother spent a few days away from home. I seem to remember there was some religious training event nearby, or he was participating in some group activity, and then he was planning on visiting the temples of his school friends. Originally, he was supposed to return after three days, but by the time he arrived home ten days had elapsed. Since my brother was so serious, naturally he'd informed my parents that his return would be delayed. But it seems he didn't say a word about why it was delayed.

On the afternoon of the tenth day, my brother returned. I was at school when he arrived home, so I'm not sure exactly what happened. But, according to the people that help out around the temple, he had been earnestly apologetic.

That evening, my brother didn't sit down with us for dinner. I felt uneasy about this, but my brother usually ate very little, and when he wasn't feeling well his appetite disappeared completely. I thought perhaps exhaustion from the trip had caught up with him.

When I returned from my bath, my brother was waiting for me in front of my room.

"Have you got a minute?"

I hadn't seen him in a while, and his face looked gaunt. His face was gaunt, but his expression was gentle. I'm not sure if the comparison is appropriate or not, but his expression was that of an angelic maiden. I suppose you could call it ephemeral.

I nodded, and opened the door to my room. He sat down on the cushion I offered him, and slowly surveyed my room. Then he straightened his back, turned to me and with a serene look on his face he informed me:

"Masafumi. I must apologize to you."

This was a sudden apology. Of course, I had no idea why he was apologizing. My brother was always honorable. I couldn't think of a single time that he had been unreasonable.

"I've decided to leave home."

"Huh?"

I couldn't believe my ears. The only way I could make sense of what he said was if he was leaving to enter the Buddhist priesthood.

"And by leaving home, I mean I'll be leaving the temple."

My brother slowly and calmly explained.

"You're in fifth grade now Masafumi, so you should understand what it will mean when I leave the temple."

"That you won't inherit the temple. Is that what you mean?"

"Indeed."

My brother nodded, then continued with, "And then."

"With me not inheriting the temple, people will probably expect that you will. And so, I apologize for all the trouble that will cause you. With me disappearing from the picture, it will also fall to you alone to honor and care for our parents. I think I should apologize for that too."

Slowly, I began to realize that he really was planning to leave home.

"Are you going away forever, is that what you're saying?"

Leaving home. Leaving the temple. Not just that, it seemed like he was going to disappear from the world entirely. That's probably what his 'leaving home' was.

"Don't make that face. I'm not suicidal, or anything like that. I'm leaving so that I can live a new life."

"I don't understand. Can't you live your new life without saying farewell to dad and mom and me? Leave home, say you won't inherit the temple, but can't you still come back home from time to time?"

I desperately wanted my brother to stay. But if that wish wasn't to be granted, at least let him remain connected to us in some form. But my brother wouldn't agree.

"For someone who expected to inherit the temple, and then threw it all away. I don't think I'll be able to come back here any more."

"Do you hate this temple?"

"It's not a matter of hating it or not. It's just that there's a reason why I have to cast it aside. Something that means I can't become a priest."

"And what's that?"

My brother smiled, then shook his head. I don't know if it was because he thought I was too immature to be told, or if it wasn't something he wanted to talk about just then.

"What did dad have to say?"

"Well, he was opposed to it. But, that's fine. It would have been worse if he was for it, because it meant he wanted to disinherit me."

When I heard that, it made my blood boil.

"You're just being selfish."

"I know. I'm selfish. Selfish, but I still came to apologize to you. I didn't expect you to understand."

I didn't respond. I couldn't express what I was feeling in words. I remained like that until my brother left the room, my hands balled into fists and my lips closed tight.

After that, it seemed my brother talked late into the night with our father in his room. By the time I awoke the next day, my brother was no longer around.

My father said to me:

"Forget that you ever had a brother."

I thought it was also selfish of him to say that to me. What about the ten years that I had spent with my brother? There's no way I could ever forget about him.

My brother's room was cleared. His belongings were put into a trunk and cardboard boxes, and then shut away in a closet. But, by no means were they thrown away. My mother and father still believed that he would see the error of his ways and return home.

Just like my brother had predicted, when the parishioners learned that my brother had left home they started looking at me as though I were the natural successor. My father didn't say anything, but I had no doubt who he secretly hoped would inherit the temple. He was probably waiting for the day my brother returned home, but he couldn't cling to such an aimless future.

About six months later, I don't know how he came across this, but an acquaintance of my father brought us news that my brother was married and had a job. It seemed his bride was a Christian. It looked like that was a part of why my brother had to leave our house.

My brother had chosen her and cast aside his family. Consequently, he probably wouldn't be coming home. It seemed this person had also learned where my brother was living, but my parents didn't presume to ask for his address or telephone number. I think they gave up on him.

And yet, my brother did return. When I was in my first year of middle school.

He wasn't alone, he brought with him a baby, about a year old. My brother's daughter.

"I never thought I'd cross the threshold of this house ever again."

My brother bowed deeply before our parents. No, it wasn't something as simple as that. He pressed his head against the tatami mat and didn't raise it for a very long time. He said that he was paying the price for his shame. After that, he broached the topic of why he hadn't been able to return home before then.

"Can this child, … can Shimako be brought up here?"

"What about her mother?"

My father asked, his face hard.

"She died, less than a month after giving birth."

He said something about postpartum recovery, but it didn't hold any meaning to me at the time.

"Why can't you raise her?"

My father asked, again.

"If I could raise her, I'd want to do that."

He gently brushed Shimako's arms as she dozed, leaning against his leg.

"Is there a reason you can't?"

"My body's wracked with disease."

Then, from my mother, seated beside my father, came a sound that was part exhalation and part sob.

The three of them, well, four if you count Shimako, were sitting together a short distance away from where I was allowed to sit, and as the conversation continued, my head pounded.

What do you mean, your body's wracked with disease? If you go to hospital, can you be cured? Can you be saved with surgery?

But, after seeing my brother return home, discovering that he had a daughter, and that his daughter's mother had died, I couldn't control the bewildering thoughts swirling around my head.

At that point, my father was composed.

"Alright. But on one condition."

It may have been a feigned composure, but it was still magnificent.

"Anything, just tell me what it is."

He was obviously resolved to do whatever it took for his daughter. That he had returned home after vowing never to do so was proof enough of that.

"That you go straight to hospital, and follow whatever treatment the doctor lays out. So that you can dedicate yourself to the treatment, we'll look after your child. But, we're only looking after her for you. When you're better, we'll return her. Understood? You'll have to work hard, for her sake, to beat the illness."

I wonder if my brother could have objected. The still sleeping Shimako was handed over to my mother, and my brother was booked into hospital that very day.

I couldn't visit my brother for about a week, while they ran tests and performed scans on him. My mother took Shimako to visit him every day, but after a while he said they didn't have to come any more. Since it was staffed primarily by nurses, there was no-one to chaperone her. Plus, he said that he'd rather Shimako played at the temple.

The results of the tests proved that my brother's body was in an unexpectedly poor condition. I didn't ask them directly, but could tell by the expression on my parent's face after they met with his attending physician.

I considered that it might not be long until I lost my brother. That was incredibly disheartening to me. When my brother left two years ago, naturally I'd been upset, but I never thought that he might die – which provided a small amount of comfort. As long as he was alive, circumstances could change. But if he died, what then.

I looked at Shimako's face as she was sleeping, oblivious, in the living room and the tears flowed.

To have lost her mother just after being born, and then to be losing her father. All while she was still small enough to use one of the cushions as a bed for an afternoon nap. All while her hands, balled together as she slept, were so tiny.

On Saturday afternoon, I went to visit my brother in hospital on the way home from school. I was a bit scared of seeing him, but my mother said that I should visit him some time.

My brother had a bed by the window in a four-person hospital room. When I arrived, he was sleeping with the curtain still open. I didn't see anyone in death's thrall. It felt like god and man were in close attendance.

"Masafumi."

Before long, my brother awoke and smiled when he saw my face. When he looked at me, it was as though he said, "What should we play today, now that you're here?"

"I've been wanting to see you. You should stop by more often."

"… Yeah."

My brother sat up in bed, so I sat down on the chair beside him. It was the first time we'd sat down together and talked since the day he left. There must have been plenty of things I wanted to ask him, and plenty of things I wanted to tell him, but I didn't know where to begin. So I told him about my classes from that day, and the plants that I'd seen on the walk to the hospital.

He smiled as he listened to my stories.

"Masafumi, you're a scholar of the outdoors. Someday soon, I hope you'll teach this to Shimako."

It was said sorrowfully, implying, "Because I won't be around to." Then, as though in a daze, I quickly changed topics.

"Did you leave home so that you could marry Shimako's mother?"

"That's right."

This time around, he said what he couldn't say two years ago. So I continued to question him. I thought, at this point, he'd answer whatever I asked.

"Was she really a Christian? Did you become a Christian too? Was that why you didn't want to live at the temple?"

"That's not it."

My brother flatly corrected me.

"So we could be together, we both agreed to set aside the religion we believed in."

"But in this day and age, there's plenty of married couples with different faiths."

I said. Because I thought that if you really loved someone, then it was silly to let religion stand in your way.

"That's true. But in our case, it was something bigger than that."

My brother smirked. Then he looked out the window, and quietly said:

"Shimako's mother was a member of a convent."

"She was a nun?"

"She was on the road to becoming one. We met on the journey, became captivated by each other, and fell in love."

So he'd cast aside his faith to follow that love. They'd both looked deep into their hearts, and chosen love. Consequently, they both chose to discard their faith. That determination was typical of my overly serious older brother.

"What was her name?"

"Sasahara Yuria. When we got married, she changed her name, becoming Toudou Yuria."

"That's a foreign sounding name."

Finding out that some woman I'd never met shared the same surname as me made me feel somehow ticklish, and I blurted out those words in an attempt to hide my embarrassment.

"She was Japanese. I saw her birth certificate, so there's no doubt about it."

My brother opened the drawer beside the bed, took out a photograph and showed it to me. She was a beautiful woman with pale complexion and light brown hair. She fitted the image I had of Shimako's mother.

"And she died, right? Where was she buried?"

"Her older sister took care of the arrangements. Their mother is interred in a church near their family home in Kyushu, so they decided to bury her there too."

"You were okay with that?"

They were the remains of someone he held dear, so I thought he would have wanted to keep them close to himself. But if she were buried in some far-off place, like a church near the family home in Kyushu, then he'd hardly ever get to visit.

"I was. At first, I thought about buying a plot in a non-religious cemetery, so that we could be buried together, but I came across this when I was sorting through her belongings."

From the still open drawer, my brother took out a small article wrapped in cloth. Inside was something that looked like a necklace.

"What is … ?"

"It's a rosary. It's something Christians use to pray. When we got married, we got rid of all of our religious artifacts. But, secretly, Yuria still held on to this. Right up to the very end, she couldn't renounce her religion. I regret that she couldn't call for a priest in her final moments, but it was too late. I'd realized that there was no reason she had to keep our promise right up to her death. So I decided to return her to Jesus."

So Shimako's mother had held onto this rosary the entire time? Had she taken it out, from time to time, and looked at it? Or had she simply kept it, never taking it out of its wrapping?

"There's no reason to condemn her for this. I too kept a single juzu. It was one I'd inherited from our grandmother. And, sure enough, as I'm reaching the end of my life, I've returned to our temple. And although he doesn't have to perform my funeral, our father will probably read from the Buddhist scriptures at it."

I listened to my brother, unable to say anything. Incapable even of politely nodding.

"When Yuria died, I blamed myself. If we hadn't met, she would have been a nun by then. She would have been spending her days in the service of her God. Whether it was God or Buddha, I don't know, but why were we joined together? Was it all just a prank? Had she really been happy marrying me? Right at the end, she smiled as she embarked on that final journey, but surely she must have been sighing inside to leave behind the child that she had only just given birth to."

After he said that, all the strength drained from my brother's body.

"But, I kind of understand now. If we hadn't met, then Shimako wouldn't exist in this world. So it's okay."

My brother did what he had to for Shimako to remain. Being in the same position as Shimako's mother, perhaps he understood her true feelings.

Probably exhausted from talking, my brother returned the rosary and photograph to the drawer, then lay down on his side.

"Masafumi."

Hearing my name called, I looked up.

"I was allowed to live my life the way I wanted. So you should live your life the way you want too."

" … Brother?"

"When I die, it's likely that the temple, our parents, and everything else, will fall on your shoulders. You should do what you want, whether that be to accept it or to reject it."

My brother closed his eyes.

"That was all I wanted to tell you."

"Are you saying that it's okay for me not to inherit the temple? Because there's Shimako?"

I knew that talking further would be a burden on him, but I had to ask. The true meaning of his words. If I missed this chance, I may not have received a second opportunity.

"I think Shimako should do whatever she wants too. If I got the chance, I'd tell her that too."

"But if we both do what we want, what will happen to the Shouguu temple?"

"Our father's still healthy. Don't worry about what happens after that. The temple's been in our family for generations, but we don't have to obsess over it. We can always accept a chief priest into the family."

My brother had changed. His usual stubbornness was gone.

There was no longer just one straight path. There were plenty of forks in the road, and it was fine to retrace your steps if you'd gone the wrong way. Perhaps this was what he learned during his two years of struggle.

My brother passed away about six months after that.

Smiling as he began that journey.

I thought he had probably gone to meet Yuria-san.

I had faith that the Christian heaven and the Buddhist paradise were one and the same. That it was a place without distinction between religion.

Instead of losing an older brother, I gained a younger sister.

A sister, one cycle of the Chinese zodiac younger than me.

Since my brother had told me to do whatever I wanted, I have decided to become a monk. Soon enough I will begin that training, and in time I plan to qualify as a chief priest.

When Shimako grows up, when she's old enough to have hopes for the future, I want her to be able to make that choice freely.

If she chooses the path that her older brother walks down, to become a chief priest, to marry a priest, then I will turn the temple over to her, and all will be well.

But if Shimako, like my brother, chooses a different path, then I will take responsibility for the temple.

That's my "what I want to do."

That's my free choice.

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