Designed for domestic use, 3H units are constructed from lightweight materials. The physical impact of the collision was negligible—likely no more forceful than being hugged by an average adult woman.
As Pixie lunged and threw her arms firmly around Tatsuya's neck, a chorus of silent gasps filled the room. She clung to him from the front, a perfect, unwavering embrace.
Everyone—Tatsuya included—was rendered speechless. If the word "dumbfounded" ever truly applied to a situation, it was this one. A heavy, incredulous silence dominated the maintenance room.
A robot manifesting such passionate, emotional behavior was, by all accounts, impossible.
"Well... I guess your charms even work on robots, Shiba-kun."
The one to shatter the silence was Kanon. Having missed the initial shock of the lunge, she had just walked into the room, offering a dry, flat remark that cut through the tension.
Her comment acted as a catalyst, jump-starting the paralyzed emotions of everyone present. Suddenly, Tatsuya felt a stinging sensation against his back—not physical, but a metaphorical blizzard of murderous intent. Miyuki had been the first to recover from the shock, though whether "recovery" was the right word for her current state was debatable.
"...I wasn't aware, Onii-sama, that you had a penchant for playing with dolls."
"Calm yourself, Miyuki. For starters."
Tatsuya hadn't expected to be accused of infidelity by his own sister, let alone to receive such a reproachful glare from Honoka.
"I didn't hug her," he clarified. "She hugged me."
"With your physical abilities, you should have been able to dodge such a move with ease."
"If I had dodged, she would have collided with you."
It was true; he could have stepped aside. To prevent accidental damage to furniture or, more importantly, to the owner's family, a 3H's maximum mechanical output is capped below that of an average adult. Tatsuya's only reason for remaining stationary was Miyuki's presence directly behind him. He could absorb the impact easily due to his weight and strength, but Miyuki might have been knocked over.
"Whoa... he calculated all that in a split second?" Leo muttered, his voice full of genuine awe.
"It's obvious if you were actually watching," Erika countered, her tone suggesting Leo was the only one who hadn't caught on.
"I... I am so sorry. I've said something terrible..."
Miyuki, finally understanding his reasoning, covered her mouth with both hands. She wilted like a flower in the frost, bowing her head in apology. Yet, despite her dejected posture, she looked subtly... pleased.
"More importantly, we need to do something about Pixie," Azusa interjected, her voice finally returning to her as she shook off the shock.
"Pixie, let go," Tatsuya commanded, a faint, awkward smile tugging at his lips.
At his word, the synthetic resin-coated mechanical arms twitched. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Pixie unlinked her hands. If it had been any other machine, Tatsuya would have assumed the "lingering" quality of the movement was a trick of the light.
"Cancel the mode-change command. Pixie, sit on that bench."
"Understood."
This time, she obeyed instantly. While a technician would argue she was simply following a command that didn't require admin privileges, it looked to everyone else as if she were simply being an obedient girl for Tatsuya.
"Mizuki."
"H-huh? Yes!?"
Mizuki, who had been content to stay a spectator, let out a startled squeak at the sudden mention of her name. Isori and Kanon looked on with curious, doubting eyes.
"Mizuki, I want you to look inside Pixie. Mikihiko, please guard her to make sure she doesn't take any feedback damage."
"...Do you think she's 'haunted' by something?" Mikihiko asked, choosing his words carefully.
"That's a very indirect way of putting it, Mikihiko," Tatsuya replied, his answer equally veiled.
Mikihiko pulled out a paper charm, focusing his intent into the talisman. Mizuki, sensing the gravity of Tatsuya's suspicion, took a nervous, slightly frightened breath. She steeled herself, fixed her gaze on Pixie, and removed her glasses.
"There's something there..." Mizuki whispered. "It's a Parasite."
The room collectively held its breath. Each person reacted in their own way—some with shock, others by reflexively shifting into a combat stance.
"But... this pattern is..." Mizuki's voice trailed off. She furrowed her brow, looking deeply troubled, before suddenly spinning around.
"Wait, what is it?"
Mizuki was staring directly at Honoka. She peered at her with intense concentration, her eyes darting back and forth between Honoka and the robot.
"This pattern... it looks just like Honoka-san's."
"WH-WHAT!?"
"What does that even mean?" Kanon demanded, her voice sharp with confusion.
"The Parasite... it's under the influence of Honoka-san's thought waves."
"Wait, so you're saying Mitsui-san is controlling it?" Isori asked.
"No, I don't think it's that kind of connection," Mizuki replied, shaking her head with unusual certainty. "It's not that there's a 'line' connecting them. It's more like the Parasite has copied Honoka-san's thoughts. Or perhaps... her 'feelings' have been burned into it."
"I didn't do anything like that!" Honoka cried out, on the verge of a full-blown panic.
"No one is saying you did this intentionally, Honoka."
Tatsuya reached out and gently patted Honoka on the head to steady her.
"Right, Mizuki?"
"Ah, yes! It's not intentional. I think it's closer to a 'residual impression.'"
While Tatsuya had successfully averted Honoka's meltdown, he was now the target of two very different, yet equally piercing glares from Miyuki and Erika. Ignoring the heat, he focused on resolving the remaining mystery.
"A residual impression..." Mikihiko mused, mostly to himself as he tried to organize the theory. "So, Mitsui-san had an exceptionally strong thought, and a Parasite drifting nearby happened to copy it? And then it possessed Pixie? Or was the Parasite already inside Pixie when her feelings were 'burned' into it...?"
As Mikihiko's monologue trailed off, a heavy silence followed. Honoka suddenly looked down, hiding her face in her hands. Even through the gaps in her fingers, it was clear that her face was burning a shade of red far deeper than any alcohol could have caused.
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