As I, the Copy Robot, made my way to school, my brain registered two familiar faces approaching rapidly from behind. Kabao and Sabu. Their intent was clear even before I heard Kabao's muffled footsteps trying to be stealthy. They assumed Mitsuo, the original, was oblivious. Kabao, always the aggressor, launched into a swift kick, aiming for the small of my back.
I merely shifted my weight, a seemingly casual sway that caused Kabao's foot to swing harmlessly through empty air. He stumbled, catching himself before he fell.
Sabu, who had been grinning in anticipation, froze, his jaw dropping. They both stared, stunned by Mitsuo's incredibly close evasion. They hadn't expected it. The irony was, I had noticed them the moment they decided to follow.
I turned, my expression neutral, my gaze direct. "Such juvenile antics are ill-advised," I stated, my voice calm but firm, replicating Mitsuo's cadence perfectly, but with an underlying authority. "Next time, you might find yourselves facing... serious consequences. Consider this a final warning."
Kabao's face, already flushed from his failed attack, darkened. His ego, a fragile construct, was clearly bruised. "What are you talking about, Mitsuo?!" he snarled, puffing out his chest. "So what if you've become a little better? You're still a loser! A failure! I could beat you to a pulp with one hand tied behind my back!"
My initial plan was to avoid unnecessary physical conflict. Violence was inefficient for resolving minor social disputes. However, his direct challenge, his verbal aggression, and the implications for Mitsuo's established social hierarchy required a recalibration. Perhaps a display of calculated intimidation was more efficient than a prolonged physical altercation.
"What are you thinking about, you idiot?!" Kabao demanded, mistaking my processing pause for hesitation.
I met his gaze, my eyes unwavering. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched my lips. "I was merely contemplating," I said, my voice low and even, "what people would think of Kabao... when they heard he was beaten to a pulp. Especially," I leaned in slightly, emphasizing the next word, "by Mitsuo."
Kabao froze. The color drained from his face, leaving him a sickly shade of green. The sheer absurdity of the statement, coupled with the unexpected directness of my gaze, seemed to short-circuit his aggression. The implication was clear: the humiliation of being defeated by someone he considered a perpetual 'loser' would be far worse than any physical pain.
I held his gaze for another moment, letting the silence stretch, before turning calmly and resuming my walk to school, leaving him a statue of stunned disbelief.
Sabu, who had witnessed the entire exchange, finally found his voice. "Ka-Kabao?" he stammered, poking his friend. "Are you... are you scared of Mitsuo?"
Kabao violently shook his head, his face contorted in a furious denial. "No! Of course not! What are you talking about?!" To prove his bravado, he frantically bent down, snatched a small rock from the ground, and hurled it at my back.
The rock flew true. It was nearly impossible for a normal person to detect a small object coming from behind without warning, let alone react to it. But I was aware. My senses had registered the rock flying towards me. I could have dodged it easily, rendered it a mere miss. However, to do so would raise suspicion. Better to allow the impact and consolidate the intimidation.
The rock hit my back with a dull thwack. I didn't even flinch. My stride remained unbroken. I continued on my path to school, as if nothing had happened. The rock bounced harmlessly away. I knew I had already sufficiently intimidated Kabao. Further escalation was unnecessary and inefficient.
There was also another reason for my calm. I had just picked up Perman's conversation via Bluetooth. He was in a serious situation, a hostage crisis. My tactical analysis began immediately. I accessed my mobile, hidden in my bag, and initiated a search for the central bank building's blueprints and security details. While physically at the path, my brain was now fully engaged in assisting Mitsuo. I began giving instructions, feeding him the necessary data as he approached the site.
Once Perman reached the hostage room, my real-time data input became less critical. His own enhanced abilities would suffice for the immediate engagement. Trusting his capabilities, I minimized my active instruction, putting my phone and Bluetooth back in my bag. I resumed my journey to school, focusing on the social rectification task at hand.
Of course, I was late. The bell had already rung, and I knew the consequence. As punishment, I was made to stand outside after class, leaning against the hallway wall. This was a minor inefficiency, but acceptable.
After a while, the classroom door opened, and a familiar figure emerged, carrying a tray of chalkboard erasers. It was Yuki, the girl the previous Copy Robot had apparently 'loved.' She was heading out to dust the chalkboard erasers, a common student duty. She saw me standing there, and a genuine, harmless giggle escaped her lips. She approached me, her eyes sparkling.
"Mitsuo? What are you doing out here?" she asked, her voice light and friendly.
"I was late for class," I stated simply.
"Oh," she said, her smile softening. "Well, at least you're not missing much. Though..." she paused, her curiosity piqued, "I heard you were pretty amazing in P.E. yesterday. Everyone was talking about how you outmatched and outran everyone by a significant margin. You were like a rocket!"
My brain noted the consistency of her observation with Mitsuo's earlier performance. The problem was, I, as Mitsuo's substitute, had not thought of an excuse for such an anomalous display of athleticism. I remained silent, allowing the pause to pique her interest further. It seemed to work.
"And," she continued, her voice lowering conspiratorially, "I also heard you answered every single one of the teacher's questions yesterday! Even the really hard ones! Everyone was so surprised."
My brain immediately shifted to "rectification protocol." How to explain Mitsuo's sudden intellectual surge without revealing the truth, and without making him seem superhuman?
"Ah, yes," I said, a slight, almost embarrassed smile on my face. "I, uh, I happened to have studied that particular chapter all night. I suppose I was just... lucky that the teacher only asked questions I already knew." It was a plausible, humble explanation.
She continued talking for a while, recounting other school gossip and her plans for the weekend. While my mind preferred to finish the conversation quickly and return to more efficient tasks, I understood the importance of maintaining social connections for Mitsuo's well-being. I didn't show my impatience.
Then, she shifted the conversation. "Hey, Mitsuo," she said, a hint of shyness in her voice. "My family is having a small get-together at my place this weekend. My mom made extra cakes... Would you like to come over? Just to hang out?"
My response was immediate. If it had been any other girl, any other social interaction, I would have sent Mitsuo. This was precisely the kind of 'social skill development' he needed. But this was Yuki. She was the girl the previous Copy Robot had loved, the one whose memories of affection were deeply ingrained in Mitsuo's real copy robot's own mind. Neither me nor Mitsuo must interfere here. We should respect his copy robot's feelings for her. It was not my place, nor Mitsuo's place as a temporary stand-in, to engage in a potential romantic entanglement that belonged to the original copy robot and his future with his true emotions.
"I appreciate the invitation, Yuki," I replied, maintaining a tone of polite regret. "However, I'm afraid I'm not free this weekend. I have some... prior commitments that might prevent me from coming."
She seemed a bit saddened by the refusal, her smile dimming slightly. "Oh," she said, her voice dropping. "That's too bad."
I quickly calculated a necessary social adjustment. Rejection without softening could lead to negative long-term social repercussions. "However," I added, a genuine warmth entering my voice – a warmth that was entirely for Robot's sake, "you are my best friend, Yuki. I would be delighted to come over to study or play with you later." (By "later," of course, I meant when the real Copy Robot, the one who genuinely cared for her, would return).
Her face immediately brightened, her smile returning in full force. "Really? You mean it?"
"Absolutely," I affirmed.
"Oh, good!" she beamed. "I have to go to class now, but I'll hold you to it!" She waved, then hurried off down the hall, her steps light.
I let out a subtle sigh, a perfectly replicated human gesture of relief. The social encounter had been successfully navigated. Soon after, the bell rang, signaling the end of my punishment, and I returned to class.
As I walked in, I noticed all the girls, and even some of the boys, glancing at me. Their whispers were subdued, but their gazes were direct. I knew, of course, why they were looking. It was because he—or rather, I—had answered every question the day before. The reputation 'fix' was a work in progress.
I sighed again, a deeper, more human-like sigh this time. I sat down on Mitsuo's usual bench at the back of the classroom and, as Mitsuo always did, slumped forward, allowing my head to rest on my folded arms. The perfect imitation of sleep.