It was almost as if she was setting up a dramatic reveal. My brain whirred, processing her words, her subtle movements, the way her eyes lingered on mine. The thing is simple: if she shows her face now, then I'll be forced to tell her I'm a copy robot, and I'll explain to her, quite logically, not to reveal her identity to Perman yet. It would be counterproductive to his current training arc; he needed to focus on self-improvement, not navigate the complexities of secret identities and burgeoning romance. That conversation, while necessary, would be a significant distraction.
"But I'm giving one warning," she said, her voice laced with a playful glint in her eyes, though her stance was still slightly hesitant, a tell-tale sign of human vulnerability beneath the bravado.
"Warning?" I echoed, prompting her. My goal was to extract information, and this seemed like a tangent, but one that could lead to unexpected data.
"Yes, warning," she confirmed, taking a small step back, her hands moving in a small, self-deprecating gesture that was common in observed human courtship rituals. "The warning is that I'm not beautiful at all. My teeth are crooked, and my face is a little burnt. Besides," she added, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, leaning in slightly, "I also have pimples on my face." She finished, her lips curling into a teasing smirk, clearly expecting a specific, reassuring reaction.
What she said was completely unexpected. My memory quickly cross-referenced her current physical appearance – objectively symmetrical features, clear skin, and a healthy complexion – with her verbal statement. There was a significant discrepancy. This was a classic human tactic: self-deprecating humor or feigned flaws to elicit a reassuring compliment, to test the sincerity of affection. But yes, if she says now that she's not beautiful at all, and then later, when the true Mitsuo is present, she shows her real, perfectly unblemished face, it will have an even greater, more dramatic emotional impact on him. A well-executed long-term emotional strategy, designed to maximize sentimental value. I agree with you, Miss Sumire Hoshino. Your strategic thinking in matters of the heart is quite advanced.
"Do you still want to see my face?" she pressed, her eyes searching mine, looking for any sign of wavering. Her posture was tense, awaiting my response.
"Of course," I stated, my voice firm and unwavering, mirroring the unwavering resolve of Perman. "I'd still like to see it. Your true self is what matters, not superficial imperfections." My primary objective was to acquire data, and this was the most direct route.
"Alright then," she said, her shoulders relaxing slightly, a genuine smile beginning to form, her tension easing. "Don't be scared after seeing my face." She was dragging this out, enjoying the suspense, prolonging the emotional build-up. This inefficiency was typical of human interaction.
She's wasting a lot of time. To be honest, I don't have this much time to indulge in jokes or prolonged emotional build-ups. My internal clock was ticking. Mitsuo's training schedule was precise, and this deviation was becoming significant.
A Strategic Refusal
The sun was now a full, brilliant circle above the horizon, painting the sky with a fierce golden light. The wind picked up slightly, rustling my cape, mirroring the slight shift in my internal calculations. She was clearly ready to reveal herself, her hand already moving towards her mask. This was the moment. I had the data. I had observed her emotional investment, her strategic delay tactics, and her vulnerability. A direct reveal at this point would compromise my mission, as it would force me to break my cover and explain the robot's presence. That conversation needed to happen under controlled circumstances, not spontaneously on a rooftop.
So, I made a choice. A strategic withdrawal.
"Pako," I said, my voice cutting through the expectant silence, stopping her hand mid-motion. "If you don't want to show your face now, it's perfectly okay. You can show it later. There's no pressure." I delivered the line with the perfect blend of understanding and casualness that Mitsuo might employ, making it sound like an act of thoughtfulness rather than a calculated maneuver.
Her hand dropped, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Huh? But... I was just about to," she stammered, clearly confused by my sudden shift.
"I know," I continued smoothly, stepping slightly closer, affecting a more comforting posture. "But I want you to be completely comfortable. For you to be truly confident when you do. Whether Pako is beautiful or not, whether you have crooked teeth or pimples – or even a face burnt by a stray laser beam from a space villain, which I'm quite sure you don't – my feelings for you won't change." I emphasized "my feelings," knowing Mitsuo's simple, unwavering loyalty to his friends.
Hearing this, a wide, genuine smile spread across Pako's face, her whole demeanor brightening visibly. It was a fascinating display of human contentment based on verbal affirmation. "Perman!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with delight. But then, a slight shadow of confusion crossed her features, and she tilted her head. "Feelings? What feelings do you have for me?"
I paused, allowing a calculated moment of silence, mimicking the slight hesitation of a human grappling with deep emotion. My processors quickly analyzed the optimal response. Honesty, within the parameters of my mission, was always efficient. "Friendship," I stated, my voice resonating with the warmth and sincerity that Mitsuo genuinely felt for his comrades. "You are my valued friend, Pako. You fight by my side, you care for others, and you always push me to be better. Those feelings are constant."
Pako blinked, processing my words. The initial sparkle of romantic hope dimmed slightly, replaced by a softer, more genuine warmth in her eyes. "Oh," she said, a small, knowing smile forming. "Friendship. Right." She looked down for a moment, perhaps slightly deflated, but then met my gaze again, her smile solidifying. "Well, if you feel that way, then it doesn't matter what I look like, does it?" Her hand instinctively went to her mask again. "If you want, Perman, I can show you my face now. I'm not scared."
"I appreciate your confidence," I replied, taking another subtle step back. "And I would be honored. However, I believe true confidence comes from within. I want you to show your face when you are truly ready, for your own reasons, not because I asked. When you feel it's the perfect moment, then it will be the perfect moment for me too." I knew Mitsuo would eventually need to know the truth about Pako's identity, and that reveal should be a significant moment between them, not a casual exposure prompted by a copy robot. My objective wasn't to solve his romantic dilemmas, but to equip him to solve them himself. She was a valuable ally, and preserving the dramatic impact of her reveal for Mitsuo was, surprisingly, in line with my overall goal of his growth. The current "Perman" needed to remain an enigma, a canvas onto which the real Mitsuo could project his own, genuine reactions when the time came. I could tell she was disappointed, but also touched. The data gathered was sufficient. The current interaction was complete.