#zeroids

Hiro had just finished eating and set his bowl aside when his zeroid came looking for him.

“You are being very cuddly, today,” he noted, letting Owun wriggle up under his arm.

“Well, obviously. It’s November. Duh.”

“…is there… something special about November…?”

“Oh, Hiro.” A little scold. “I can’t believe you forgot.”

Hiro finally looked down at him, with a subtle frown. “Forgot... what?”

A slightly reproachful crimson gaze looked back. “Well obviously today is the seventh anniversary of the time I first came online.” After a beat, he added; “It’s my birthday, silly.” And then, mostly playfully, but a little bit serious too; “...can’t believe you forgot.”

“Oh!” Hiro bit down on a smile and tried to act like it was a huge revelation. “Oh, that. Well. It seems like a fortunate coincidence that I brought this with me on my last return from Earth, then.” He picked something up from within the cupboard beside him, and put it down in front of them.

Wrapped in sparkly rainbow-coloured paper, it looked very much like a plant pot. Owun made a noise like a snort-laugh and bonked against him. “A plant. Thanks.”

Hiro chuckled and petted his crown. “As if I could ever forget your birthday, Kyusu. Especially as you have reminded me about it every two weeks for the last four months.”

Owun giggled sheepishly and looked away. “Iiiii thought you might not have noticed.”

“I always notice what you tell me. That is why we work well together.”

Owun’s weight increased very slightly as he leaned into Hiro’s side. “I think I might have sounded ungrateful?” he said, his words softening. “I didn’t mean to. I don’t think I was expecting an actual present. Just maybe like, a Happy Birthday. Thank you. This is so nice of you.”

“Well, I have been thinking about it since last year.” Hiro smiled, fondly. “I mean, seven whole years old, hmm.” He kept his fingers moving. “Positively prehistoric, in computer terms.”

“Ugh.” Owun wriggled as though trying to shake the human’s hand off. “Thanks. Just what I needed to hear.”

Hiro laughed. “You know you will always be my best friend, however old and cranky you get. And seven is an auspicious number, in many cultures. Perhaps this will be a lucky year for you.”

“Zelda will go away forever!” Owun responded, promptly. “But then I’d need a new job. Hm. Perhaps I haven’t thought that out so well?”

“Are you going to open your gift?”

Owun gave him a suspicious glance. “…is it a pumpkin?”

Hiro clucked his tongue in a scolding little tch and exaggerated a sigh.

“Sorry, sorry.” Owun laughed, and examined the sparkly paper carefully for a minute or two. It looked like it was mostly just cunningly folded, holding itself together, with one or two easily-accessible little snips of tape to finally secure the wrapping in place. He focused his laser and carefully cut through them, then nuzzled into the paper so it fell neatly open.

He rolled back a little to get a good look.

“Oh. Oh!”

It was not a plant, or indeed anything remotely botanical. Hiro smiled, and arched a brow, cheekily.

Instead, carefully stacked to give the illusion of a plantpot, were a little selection of tools and polishes, and in pride of place at the centre, folded like a piece of fabric origami, was a hat, obviously specially-made to fit him.

Hiro lowered his voice and said, conspiratorially; “I hope you are glad it is not a pumpkin.”

“Oh my stars! Help me put it on!” Owun wiggled excitedly.

Hiro picked up the fabric and let it come unfolded; a soft, rounded job, with a little peak at the front, in a textured dark red that set off his own scarlet. Optics huge, Owun just watched and ooh-ed quietly, for once unable to find any words at all.

“I did take some advice from Kate,” Hiro confessed, setting it down on the zeroid’s top hemisphere and ensuring it was square. “Although we were not sure how well you will be able to roll while wearing it?”

“I don’t care.” Owun replied, almost breathily, trying hard to look up at it. “It’s the best present ever.”

“I am glad! Happy birthday, Owun.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of his friend’s head, and smiled fondly at hearing him burst into tears. “And may we share many more. Daisuki da yo.”