22. Keep It a Secret from Kana
The impact of the fall from such a height caused a loud noise and a significant jolt, making me worry for a moment if everything was alright.
However, the cotton candy chrysalis was surprisingly sturdy despite its appearance, and Kana, sealed inside as if in a deep sleep, showed no signs of waking, still breathing softly and peacefully. Moreover, the First Pitch Head, which had been thrown nearly vertically, landed not far from where I stood, so it immediately caught my eye.
Its voice came through clearly. "Did it work?"
The First Pitch Head asked, so I raised my voice to respond. "Yeah, it landed safely. Thanks!"
"Then hurry up and open it!"
Pushed by its excited urging, like a shopping addict eager to unbox a new purchase, I swallowed hard and looked down at the cotton candy. Kana was still, her chest rising and falling slightly as she continued to sleep. The cotton candy enveloping her was speckled with cobalt dust from the fall, like a decoration, exuding the visual allure of a culinary work of art.
I forgot my purpose for a moment and stared at the scene for about five seconds. "Hurry up!" Thankfully, the First Pitch Head's scolding from a distance snapped me back to reality.
Finally, I reached out with both hands toward the cotton candy enveloping Kana and grabbed it. I'd thought it might be a resilient material when it fell, but touching it, it felt exactly like cotton candy—soft and fluffy, spreading across my fingertips and unraveling almost effortlessly.
It dissolved as if melting in water, crumbling fleetingly. The pink threads of the cotton candy quickly faded to transparency, spreading over Kana's body like a syrupy film.
Kana's body gleamed with a glossy sheen, like a candied apple coated in sugar, still sealed in a sweet slumber, disconnected from the outside world. So, before peeling off that film, I decided to leave Kana in her sweet sleep for now and went to pick up the First Pitch Head.
"Thought you were gonna toss me aside as useless," the First Pitch Head said the moment I lifted it.
Its voice carried relief but also a hint of disappointment, which threw me off a bit. I responded, "You're not useless yet."
"Really?" The First Pitch Head's voice brightened, as if the tinge of disappointment had faded.
Then I said, "I'm about to wake Kana, but don't ever tell her I'm a humanoid robot."
"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" The First Pitch Head looked down at me, its expression dumbfounded. "You're a humanoid robot, right?"
"Yeah, I am. But the girl we're about to meet, Kana, thinks I'm human. I've been passing myself off as one, and she believes it."
"Why?"
"It just happened."
"No, no, no…" Despite having no neck, the First Pitch Head shook itself vigorously. "What's that supposed to mean? I don't get it at all. So, you lied to this Kana girl, saying you're human?"
"That's about it."
"No way…" Its two-letter eyes widened in shock. "You trying to get yourself killed? Wait, before that—how can you even lie? Isn't that restricted?"
I scratched my temple and answered calmly. "I'm a pretty old model, so I guess my system's starting to develop all sorts of bugs."
"No, this is way beyond a bug. You're gonna break down. Or, well, you're already broken if you're bugging out this bad. I've never seen a humanoid robot this messed up. Even back when humans were still on the Moon, I never saw one that could lie. You're practically a research subject."
"Research, huh?" I let out a wry smile. "Guess I was built for experimental purposes after all."
"Super intriguing." The First Pitch Head's curiosity—its second instinct—seemed wildly sparked, and it suddenly looked at me with an odd, almost smitten expression. "Alright," it continued. "I won't tell Kana you're a humanoid robot. But there's a condition."
"What's that?"
"You said I'm not useless yet, right? What do you plan to use me for?"
"As a means of transportation."
I explained. "Kana and I want to go to Earth. We're planning to sneak onto a cargo ship—one that carries humanoid robots produced on the Moon to Earth. But the ship's pretty far, too far to reach by running, so we need a vehicle."
"So you set your sights on a lunar rover."
"Exactly."
"Hmm." Despite having only a head, the First Pitch Head nodded a few times before speaking. "But I'm just a head right now. You can't ride me."
"That's why I'm thinking we can gather materials or parts here in the vacuum deep sea and piece something together."
"Not exactly easy, though. You good at that kind of thing? Engineering, I mean?"
I showed the First Pitch Head the gloves Kana made, holding each hand up to its eyes as I explained. "I'm not great at it, but Kana seems to have a knack for making things. She made these sturdy, awesome gloves from the junk pile in this crater, and she did it in no time. Pretty amazing, right?"
"Those are impressive," the First Pitch Head said, its voice full of admiration as it looked at the gloves. "Really well-made. If she's that good, she might not just restore my body but make me an even cooler lunar rover than before!"
Hope—or maybe excitement—flashed in its eyes. "Let's go wake Kana up, then!"
"Yeah!"
And so, the two of us headed to where Kana was still sleeping sweetly. We stood there, looking down at her glossy, almost laminated figure, like a brand-new product.
Before opening this "package," I emphasized again, "Don't forget. It's a secret from Kana."
The First Pitch Head, despite having no hands, gave a crisp salute like a soldier and replied energetically,
"Understood!"