#banrisa

“Shut up, stupid One-Length! I don’t take orders from you!” But Kumon nonetheless loosens his hold, allowing air to return to her lungs.

She smiles against his shoulder and reaches up to pat his head. “Aww, I missed you too, Kyu-chan. Sorry I haven’t come by in a while—finals were really murdering me.”

The happiness rolls off of her beloved cousin in waves. She activates a small percentage of power and conducts a quick scan. Yep, nothing to be worried about, he’s in the pink of health.

Kumon pulls away and beams at her, looking like the whole sun just decided to take a quick trip from outer space down to the Mankai dorms and grace her with its brightness. “It’s okay, I’m just really happy you’re here now. C’mon, you’ve missed out on a lot while you were gone!” 

He lets go of her and grabs her hand, pulling her further into the dorm. She barely has time to toe off her shoes and slip into a pair of guest slippers before stumbling after him, even as Banri calls at Kumon for him to slow down.

It was only a few weeks Isa spent away from the dorm, caught up in the mad rush of assignment submissions followed not long after by her finals, but it honestly felt like months. As she steps into the living room, she takes a deep breath and just lets the familiar noise of the various troupe members doing their own things wash over her. It seems to be a full house today, evidenced by the various voices drifting through the hallways and the familiar buzzing of everyone’s life forces that seeps from the air around her into her very skin.

Wait. Not everyone. She checks her internal map of everyone’s life forces and their approximate location in the dorm. Two missing presences. And one unfamiliar one. A visitor? Or a newbie, perhaps? The Spring, Summer, and Autumn Troupes have all recruited a new member each, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that Winter would have done the same.

“Where are the Director and Citron-san?” she asks.

At that, Kumon’s footsteps screech to a halt, his face pinching into an uncomfortable wince. Banri sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Ah, t—that—” Kumon coughs into his fist awkwardly. “It’s, um, it’s a long story—”

“The Director’s isn’t,” Banri says. “She went out to buy curry ingredients.”

“So business as usual?”

He sighs, but it sounds more long-suffering than it actually is. “Yeah. Omi and Tsuzuru have been busy studyin’ for their finals, so it’s been nonstop curry every day.”

Isa laughs. It must be nice, she thinks wistfully, to have someone cook warm meals for you every day. She lives alone in her apartment—well, it’s technically under her mother’s name but her mother’s usually working overseas and comes back to visit every few months. Her dog makes wonderful company, but she unfortunately lacks the opposable thumbs needed to make dinner.

“What about Citron-san?” she asks.

Before either Banri or Kumon can answer her, the door to the practice room bursts open, and the Winter Troupe members file out. Tsumugi and Tasuku appear engrossed in a passionate discussion—probably theatre yap, knowing them—with a sleeping Hisoka slung over Tasuku’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Behind them, Homare prances out, reciting something to Azuma who smiles prettily and nods.

And the last person—Isa’s eyebrows raise. She doesn’t recognise this man. He’s tall, probably around Banri’s height, with a handsome face and dark, slicked-back hair. The newest newbie, perhaps? That would explain the unfamiliar presence she felt, at least.

“Oh, Isa-chan, it’s so good to see you again,” Tsumugi greets, breaking off his conversation with Tasuku and coming over. “Since you’re here, I take it that your finals are over?”

“Finally,” she affirms emphatically. “I love what I’m studying and all, but I’ve really missed coming over to hang out and bullying Itaru-san into exercising.”

Tasuku rolls his eyes as he places Hisoka with surprising gentleness onto the couch. “You’re gonna have your work cut out with that one. He’s been slacking off while you were preparing for your finals.”

“Don’t be too harsh, Tasuku, he ate a vegetable two days ago,” Tsumugi chides.

“Yeah, like two pieces of broccoli, and then he washed them down with a bottle of soda.”

Isa smiles at the familiar banter before her. Ah, how she’s missed this. And she’s not too worried about Itaru—she’ll just have to give him her best “I’m not mad, just disappointed and concerned about your longevity as an actor” look and he’ll crack. 

Just then, the unfamiliar man approaches Isa. His movements are oddly robotic, and his face is void of any particular expression, resembling carved marble.

“Based on my approximations, you are likely Isa Sakisaka,” he says, voice baritone and flat. 

“Yup, that’s me!” She waves cheerily, masking her confusion. What does he mean by approximations? “And you are…?”

“Ah, right, you and Guy-san haven’t met,” Tsumugi says. “Isa-chan, this is Guy-san. He’s helping out with the Winter Troupe’s next play.” He turns to Guy. “Guy-san, this is Isa-chan. She’s—”

“The information I have stored in my database describes her as a volunteer who visits occasionally to help out with the physical conditioning of the troupe members, as well as a cousin to Sakisaka, Hyodo, and the younger Hyodo, and Settsu’s girlfriend. Undergraduate student at Veludo Arts University, first year. Approximately 155 centimeters tall.”

Isa blinks. “Oh, uh. Th—that’s. A lot of info you have on me.”

Tsumugi hides a smile behind his hand. “Banri-kun talks a lot about you.”

Banri’s cheekbones turn a light pink. “Tch, not just me. In fact, it’s the Brocon who’s been doing most of the yapping ‘bout you. Acting like you’d gone off to war or some shit.”

“I don’t yap!” Kumon snaps.

Isa ignores her boyfriend and cousin’s bickering as she turns back to this Guy-san. “And, um, how’d you figure out my height? Was that something that came up in conversation too?” 

And what’s this about your ‘database’ anyway? It’s giving Chikage-san, not gonna lie…

“It was an estimate based on an analysis through my visual faculties.”

More slow blinking from Isa. “Analysis through your—so, like, seeing? With your eyes?”

Guy pauses, as if mulling over his response. “The human equivalent of my spherical visual faculties would be called eyes, so I suppose you are not entirely inaccurate.”

“The… huh?”

Azuma touches his lip with the tip of an elegant, perfectly manicured finger. “Oh dear. Banri, you didn’t explain to your sweetheart?”

“I mean.” Banri shrugs. “Figured it’d be funnier to see her firsthand reaction to Guy-san’s whole… thing.”

“What thing?”

“Ah, it’s, um…” Kumon flounders as he wrings his hands nervously, eyes darting around the others in the room.

“Allow me to introduce myself.” Guy bows at the waist. If he had a hat on, Isa bets he would have taken it off and held it to his chest like a classic gentleman from some old-timey western movie. “I am Guy. Retainer to Citronia, and an android from Zahra.”

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. Hold up.

Isa’s brain feels like it’s melting out through her ears. The words, she can understand them separately. But together? She’d sooner comprehend it if you told her that Itaru did a push-up out of his own volition than whatever… that was.

“You’re a what to who and what from Zahra?”

Banri doesn’t even bother to conceal his snort. “Man, this is even funnier than I’d thought.”

Isa whirls on him, incredulous. “Is this a prank? Were you setting me up for this?” She fixes her eyes on the rest of them, who are sporting expressions ranging from sheepish, to uncomfortable, to exasperated. Or fast asleep, in the case of Hisoka. “Are all of you in on this?”

Tsumugi shakes his head, sympathy written all over his face. “I understand this all sounds rather outlandish, but this isn’t a prank. Guy-san really is an android and a royal retainer from Zahra. Citron-kun’s retainer, to be exact.”

Citron—ah, that must be the Citronia he mentioned. That should’ve been obvious enough, but sometimes ‘obvious’ things go over her head, like Banri trying to confess to her with his second button but she didn’t realise it because she’d thought it was just a trope in manga and not, like. A thing.

Anyway.

“Citron-san’s retainer…” She frowns. “Wait, you’re telling me he’s a—?”

“Yeah, Citron-san’s a prince! A prince from Zahra, and the heir to the throne!” Kumon jumps in to explain. “Crazy, right? All this time, we had royalty living under our roof and we didn’t know!”

Yes, that does indeed feel like something they should have known. Imagine, like, Prince William’s son casually joining your theatre troupe and putting on plays with you and eating breakfast with you every morning. That’s wild. Darn, maybe she—and this whole company, and in fact the entirety of Veludo Way if the crown prince of Zahra had managed to hide in plain sight for an entire year—should keep up with continental news more often.

But with that answer, only more questions spring forth.

She decides to focus on the most normal curiosity first. “Then… Guy-san, why aren’t you with Citron-san? Not to assume what your job entails, but, uh, normally a retainer would be with his prince, right?”

“Yes, that would normally be the case,” he answers, voice still flat as before. “But unforeseen circumstances have come up. In any case, I’m banned from entering Zahra. To be precise, I would be arrested on sight.”

She stares at him. “Did you… commit a crime?” It might be a harsh assumption to make, but given some of the more… interesting characters in this theatre company, it’s a possibility not entirely off the table.

For the first time in their conversation, something akin to an emotion flickers across his face. A slight crease forms between his eyebrows before smoothing out again as quickly, like it wasn’t there to begin with. “No, none that I am aware of. I’m certain it was Citronia’s doing, yet I have not fathomed as to why he would do such a thing.”

She winces. “Sorry, must be tough.”

Guy’s expression remains blank. “I have no need for your sympathy. I am an android, programmed to do what is required of me.”

“Don’t take it to heart,” Tsumugi whispers to her. “Guy-san just talks like that. Because, well—”

“Because of the android thing?”

“Yes, because of the android thing.”

Isa looks around the room. Everyone’s faces are sincere, like they’ve all collectively accepted the existence of an android that’s not just the smartphone brand, but rather one that heavily resembles a human and is the servant to one of their fellow actors—former fellow actor?

Then she looks back to Guy, who’s standing in that uncannily stiff manner with his arms hanging like steel rods by his side. His expression is blank, devoid of any emotion. Kind of how an android would be, she thinks. She wouldn’t know; this is her first time meeting one. But… still, something feels off about this whole ‘android’ business.

Because if he really was an android, that wouldn’t explain the unfamiliar life force she had felt earlier stepping into the dorm. So either there’s another person here whom she hasn’t met yet, or…

She flashes Guy her best winning smile. “Well, this is unorthodox, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Guy-san.” She sticks out a hand. “May I shake your hand?”

He glances at her hand. “If that is your order, then I shall.”

The moment he grasps her hand, Isa lets her power flow through her. Subtly, of course, not wanting to freak the others out with glowing eyes and hair. Sure, they—sans Guy—know about her ability, and Banri had witnessed it firsthand before, but still, she’d prefer not to call attention to it.

The hand holding hers is firm, large, and slightly rough, not dissimilar to Banri’s. She feels veins, bones, and tendons under the skin, much like a normal person’s hand.

Most importantly, she feels life thrumming under the rough skin. Pure, unmistakeable, human life.

Wow, Guy-san is in the peak of health, is the first thought that comes to mind. She can’t help it—making physical contact with a person automatically gives her a read of their overall health and well-being. If there were any anomalies, like an illness or injury, she would know. But no concerns about Guy. Hale as a horse and brimming with physical strength. If Banri were to randomly throw hands with him, she’s pretty sure Guy would beat his ass. Not that she wants Banri’s ass to be beaten, but that’s just how strong Guy is. Which checks out with his occupation (former occupation?) as a prince’s retainer.

Wait.

So her hunch was right—Guy is a human. She wouldn’t be able to discern all this about him otherwise.

But the others seem absolutely convinced that he’s an android.

Or… are they?

“So… you’re an android,” she says carefully as she releases Guy’s hand. “What’s it like being an android?”

“I cannot offer an explanation as to what it is like to be an android, particularly not in a way that would be understandable by humans,” Guy intones. 

“Right. Um…” She wracks her brains for something she can ask him to verify her hunch. Not that she doesn’t trust her ability, she does, but she can’t tell if he’s being for real or if it’s some weird etude practice they’re all doing. “Then, uh, what do you do as an android?”

“Previously, I served Citronia and attended to his well-being and safety. Handing him water when I detect that his hydration levels have lowered, eliminating threats to his safety before they can cause him harm, and such. Now, I am assisting the Winter Troupe of the Mankai Company with their upcoming play. I have saved the entire script to my internal memory storage. However, it is posing an inconvenience to the troupe that I am unable to express emotions as much as they can.”

Isa chances a glance at said Winter Troupe members, all of whom are abstaining from commenting. Even Homare doesn’t have a remark to make.

Speaking of which, she vaguely recalls hearing about Homare having a hang-up about being a ‘cyborg’ during the rehearsals for My Master’s Mesmerised by Mystery, but she knew the comparison of ‘cyborg’ was more metaphorical than literal.

In Guy’s case, however…

Wait. She looks around the room again.

That’s right, they’re all actors. Even Kumon, inexperienced as he is, did a pretty darn good job in his debut play for someone who only had a couple months to learn the ropes from scratch and practise.

So who’s to say this isn’t some silly bit they’re all in on?

The more she thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Guy doesn’t look that old, maybe mid-thirties at most, while Citron is in his early twenties. Chances are, and especially if shoujo manga tropes hold true in real life (and they do, apparently, like boys giving the girl they like their second button as a love confession), Guy likely started serving Citron when he himself was an adolescent at best. And based on how he described himself, it seems as though he didn’t have the opportunity in his adolescence to form a holistic sense of identity beyond his role as Citron’s retainer.

But perhaps in his adulthood, and now that he’s been banned from re-entering Zahra, he has a chance to discover who he really is beyond just being a prince’s servant and bodyguard.

Some people, like Kumon, explore self-discovery through pretending they’re a demon from the third circle of hell. Others, like Itaru, latch so hard onto a fictional character that they sometimes feel like they are the character (Isa has occasionally entertained the idea of Itaru starring as Lancelot in a 2.5D adaptation of KoTR, since they do bear an uncanny physical resemblance).

And it seems like in Guy’s case, he’s straight-up committed to pretending he’s an android. Like, he is completely locked the hell in. From the mannerisms, to the speech, to even his blinking. And the members of Mankai Company are unfailingly kind, especially the Director herself, so it makes sense that they would humour him and his chuuni journey.

Erik Erikson would say mid-thirties is a little late for identity formation, but hey, even if Guy’s psychosocial development hadn’t been impeded by having to serve a prince in his adolescence, there’s no age limit to having whimsy. And Isa knows—from her own experience of having her adolescent psychosocial development disrupted by her own set of Horrors—how deeply, intrinsically, indescribably important it is to indulge in one’s harmless whimsy.

Well, she concludes, as long as he’s having fun, that’s what matters most.

Wait, she can’t actually tell if he’s having fun. But that just goes to show how committed he is to the bit, doesn’t it?

She looks around at the men and one boy in the room, at their accepting expressions, and smiles. Seems like they’re having fun with this android bit too. Theatre junkies will be theatre junkies, she supposes.