PAKO'S POV:~
The news hit me like a physical blow, even through the sturdy metal of my Perman mask. Birdman, standing tall and alien in the training grounds, announced that only one of us would be chosen to go to Birdplanet. One Perman, leaving the others behind. And instantly, my heart seized. If it was Mitsuo... If Perman No. 1 was chosen... how could I possibly live without him? The thought was unbearable, a cold dread spreading through me.
Birdman then explained the criteria: he would install a special device in our Perman sets, and it would measure how hardworking we were. The most hardworking Perman would earn the trip to Birdplanet. I heard the words, but they didn't register beyond the terrifying implication for Mitsuo.
Desperation overriding my usual caution, I stepped forward, addressing Birdman directly, my voice perhaps a little too sharp with panic. "Birdman, please! You can take whichever Perman you want from Payan or Wooby. They are excellent, dedicated heroes. But, please... please don't take Mitsuo from me."
Birdman's gaze was unwavering, his tone absolute. "I cannot accept this request of yours, Perman 3. The selection is based on merit determined by the device. You can decide whether you want to go if chosen, but you cannot decide whether others would go or not."
"But Birdman," I pleaded, my voice softening as I tried to convey the depth of my feelings, the quiet importance Mitsuo held in my life.
I told him how much I cared for Perman. I can't imagine things here without him.
He remained unmoved. "Anyone can live without anyone, Perman 3. You will adapt, you will get used to it. Besides," he added, a logical counterpoint that did nothing to soothe my anxiety, "it is not yet certain that he will be chosen, is it?"
My shoulders slumped. I knew in that moment I would never be able to persuade Birdman through simple appeals. He operated on rules and logic, not on the messy emotions that were currently churning inside me.
But my mind, analytical even in distress, started searching for other angles. A loophole. A way to protect Mitsuo. "Hey Birdman," I said, trying a different tactic, a hypothetical. "What would happen if I were selected... and I refused to go?"
"The Perman who comes in second place according to the device's measurement would go," he replied without hesitation.
A new idea sparked. If I won, I'd have leverage, wouldn't I? "If I win," I pressed, feeling a surge of possibility, "can I choose the one who'll go instead? If I won the selection, surely I would have the privilege to pass it on to someone else? Right?"
"No, Perman 3, you cannot—"
"Whyyyyyy?" The single word was drawn out, expressing my frustration with his inflexibility.
"If it were like this," Birdman explained, his voice taking on a slightly more patient, instructive tone, "the Perman selection could have easily got manipulated. It would undermine the entire process and purpose."
Manipulated? The word felt heavy, but I didn't quite grasp its full implication in this context. Did he mean Permans would work hard just to gain the power to choose? Or that heroes could be forced into roles they didn't earn? My mind raced, trying to untangle it.
"Sorry," I admitted, shaking my head. "I don't quite understand what you mean by 'manipulated'."
"All you need to understand right now," he said, closing the topic firmly, "is that the Perman who gets selected will go there. The process is absolute."
"Alright, so Birdman—" I tried to argue, to find another crack in his logic, another plea, but he cut me off.
"I'll have to go somewhere. Also, I think I gave you enough of my time. So bye bye." And with that, faster than my eye could truly follow, he simply vanished. Gone. Leaving me alone with my fear and a swirling mix of unresolved questions and growing desperation.
I was left with only two viable paths to keep Mitsuo from being selected. The first, based on Birdman's stated criteria, was to encourage Payan and Wooby. They were genuinely hardworking, dedicated. If I could just push them a little further, make them even more diligent, surely one of them would surpass Mitsuo on the device's scale.
The second path... the second path was far more personal, far riskier. I could show my true identity to Mitsuo. Reveal that Pako, the smart, sometimes bossy, fellow Perman, was also Sumire Hoshino, the idol he admired. The girl who secretly cherished him. Maybe... maybe knowing who I truly was, and how much I cared, would somehow change things? Make him not want to go, if he was chosen? It felt like a long shot, a desperate gamble involving exposing the most vulnerable part of myself.
I chose the less drastic path first. I found Payan and Wooby, explaining Birdman's criteria – the lie about hard work – and my concern for Mitsuo. They, bless their loyal, earnest hearts, immediately understood and agreed to redouble their efforts. They assured me they would do their absolute best to get selected.
And they did. I watched them. They trained tirelessly, pushed their limits, embodied the very definition of "hardworking." I was sure, absolutely convinced, that one of them would be the one to go. But the day the final results were announced, my certainty shattered. Perman No. 1... Mitsuo... had still won.
"I can't believe this," I whispered, staring at the result display, the only sound the quiet hum of Birdman's presence beside me.
"Believe it, Perman 3," he said calmly. "This is the true result according to the measurement."
"You're lying," I accused, the words escaping before I could stop them. The unfairness of it, the contradiction, fueled my anger. "I've monitored them myself! I've seen how they trained! Payan and Wooby were working so much harder than Mitsuo! Day and night!"
"Is that so?" Birdman's voice remained level. "But the device is saying otherwise."
"Then the device is lying!" My hand shot out, pointing an accusing finger directly at the alien hero. "Or probably you're the one who's lying!"
Birdman didn't flinch. Instead, a flicker of something akin to admiration crossed his face. "Amazing, Perman 3," he said. "I'm glad I chose you as a Perman. Your ability to observe and question is remarkable. You are the smartest of all of them."
My mind reeled. Smartest? Had I actually... figured something out? "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly with a mixture of confusion and validation.
He finally relented, offering the truth like a key unlocking the riddle. "In simple words, what the machine measured isn't hard work, Perman 3. It measured goodwill. The inherent kindness, the selflessness, the pure heart behind the desire to help others. And in that... Perman No. 1 is better than any of you. He has the most goodwill."
Goodwill. Not strength. Not speed. Not even intellect or diligence. Goodwill. Mitsuo. Of course. It fit him perfectly. His sometimes clumsy but always well-meaning attempts to help, his fundamental kindness, his inability to truly hold a grudge. It made a profound, undeniable sense, even as it overturned everything I thought I knew about being a hero, about being chosen.
"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" I asked, the question born of pure, logical frustration. Think of the wasted effort, the unnecessary worry!
"Do you think the selection would have been fair if I had told you this sooner?" Birdman responded, echoing my own previous thought about manipulation. "Knowing the true criteria would have changed everyone's approach, perhaps forcing unnatural behavior. The test was to measure inherent quality under a false pretense of measuring effort. Well, now... let me go."
"Alright." The fight drained out of me. The truth was revealed, the selection was made, and Mitsuo was still the one chosen. Birdman disappeared once more, leaving me alone with the undeniable fact of his departure.
Only one choice left now. Plan B. The risky one. But rather than trying to stammer out a confession in person, my courage failed me. Instead, I poured my feelings onto paper, confessing my love for him and revealing my identity as Sumire Hoshino. I snuck into his room and left the letter somewhere he would find it. I didn't know if he read it or not before the time came.
The moment arrived quickly. All five of us stood together as Mitsuo and Birdman prepared for departure. It was quiet, heavy with unspoken goodbyes. Me, Payan, and Wooby offered our final farewells to Mitsuo, the boy we had worked alongside, competed with, and cared for so deeply. He gave us a hesitant smile from inside his UFO. The engines whirred... and they were gone. A silent blink, and the space where their UFOs had been was empty.
Just after they disappeared, so quickly I barely processed their absence, they reappeared. The two spherical craft materialized as if they'd simply flickered out and back in again. Is it a technical default? What happened?
The UFO hatches hissed open. Mitsuo, in his Perman suit, stepped out onto the ground.
"So Permans," Birdman's voice announced, calm despite the abrupt return, "looks like Perman No. 1 doesn't want to go to Birdplanet right now."
We stared, utterly confused. Didn't want to go? But he was just leaving!
"But Birdman," it was my voice, cutting through the stunned silence, "you just disappeared a second ago! And you came back again immediately! What happened?"
"Yeah," Payan chimed in, equally bewildered. "And how can you say that Perman doesn't want to go there now? He was just leaving!"
"Wikkey wikkey!" Wooby added his own sounds of confusion.
Questions erupted from all of us, bombarding Birdman. What happened? Why are you back? Why the sudden change?
Birdman raised a hand for silence, his presence commanding despite our flurry of questions. "Lemme explain. When we move at very fast velocity... the flow of time changes for us. This phenomenon, time dilation, would lead to many problems if not accounted for. In order for that to not happen, there is a mechanism in these UFOs which stops the flow of time for us when we move at very high velocity. To you here, only a second passed. To us, enough time passed for Mitsuo and I to have a conversation."
I and Payan exchanged a look of understanding. The physics was complex, but the result was clear: a moment for them could be longer for us, and vice versa, depending on speed. That's why they seemed to vanish and reappear instantly. Wooby, however, still looked utterly lost, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"Kwa Kwa Kwa," he mumbled, shaking his head.
Birdman glanced at him. "Well, I can't do anything about that right now," he said, a rare note of helplessness in his voice regarding Wooby's perpetual confusion.
Turning back to Mitsuo, I felt a resurgence of that earlier question. "So Perman," I asked, my heart giving a little leap. Had it been the letter? Had he read it while they were 'gone'? Did that make him change his mind? "Why don't you want to go to Birdplanet right now?"
Mitsuo hesitated for a moment, then met my gaze. "I... I think there are many things I haven't done yet, many things I need to prepare for, before I can truly be ready for Birdplanet. Which is why I decided to ask Birdman if I could go next month instead."
My heart sank slightly. He didn't mention the letter. He didn't read it. Or if he did, it wasn't the primary reason for his change of heart. Just 'things he needs to do'. Disappointment pricked at me. Should I ask about it? Risk revealing my secret here, now?
Impulse won. "By the way, Perman," I said, trying to sound casual, though my voice felt tight. "I think I sent you a letter. Did you get it?"
"Oh, this letter?" Mitsuo reached into the inner pocket of his suit, pulling out the familiar, un-opened envelope.
Before he could even register what was happening, I snatched it from his hand.
"Hey! Give that back, Pako!" he protested, surprised.
"Sorry, Perman, but I'm not giving it to you," I said, clutching the letter tightly. The moment of confession had passed, the immediate danger of him leaving was averted for a month. Now, the thought of him reading it here, in front of everyone, felt terrifying. I had time. A whole month to figure out how and when to tell him.
He tried to take it back, lunging slightly, reaching for the envelope. But even in his full Perman strength, he was never quite a match for my speed and agility when I didn't want to be caught. And maybe, just maybe, my own frustration and relief lent me extra determination. He made a few more half-hearted attempts, but seeing he couldn't pry it from my grip, he eventually sighed in defeat. Being tired from... well, whatever happened in that 'stopped time'... probably didn't help him.
After giving up on the letter, he turned his attention back to Birdman. He explained his reasoning – that he wanted to improve himself, to become a better hero, and requested the Perfect Copy Robot back. He said he wanted the robot to be his role model, implying he would use its efficiency and knowledge as a guide.
Birdman pondered for a moment, his silent contemplation stretching the seconds. Finally, he nodded. "Alright, Perman," he said. "Take it. But quickly go to your house and bring your copy robot back. Also, you have to say a specific command to disable its permanent nose button's default state. 'Permanent nose button turn off. Code-4444' is the command. This is important."
Birdman produced a Perfect Copy Robot – shining, identical to Mitsuo except for its perpetually red nose. He handed it to Mitsuo. Mitsuo took the robot, nodded his thanks, and with a final look at us, launched into the air, flying towards his home.
I watched him go, the letter still clutched in my hand. One month. A temporary reprieve. And a robot. Things were definitely getting more complicated.