Pako shifted again, her head still on my lap, but now her arm reached up, wrapping around my waist. It was a light, almost hesitant embrace, yet it felt impossibly heavy. Her grip tightened, a silent plea, as if she didn't want me to go, didn't want this quiet moment to end.
"I'm so sad," she murmured, her voice a fragile whisper, "that Perman has to go to Birdplanet next month."
I offered a noncommittal hum of agreement. My own sadness for leaving was minimal compared to the overwhelming urge to escape the escalating intimacy of the situation. Every instinct screamed at me to bolt, to make some excuse, any excuse, to flee. But her arm around me, the unexpected vulnerability in her voice... it held me captive. I was acutely aware of how enraged she would become if I tried to pull away now.
"Since you're going next month," she continued, her voice growing softer, almost mournful, "you'll have to leave everyone, won't you?"
A profound silence descended, broken only by the frantic drumming of my heart. She was building up to something, I could feel it. Her grip on my waist tightened imperceptibly. Then, she looked up, her gaze finally meeting mine. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of mischief, were suddenly deep, searching, vulnerable.
"Mitsuo," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Who... who do you love?"
My breath hitched. The question hung in the air, impossibly heavy. My mind went blank, then scrambled, desperately searching for an answer. What would the robot say? He'd always been so good at deflecting, at logical, emotionless responses. But this wasn't logical. This was... Pako. And her eyes were asking a question that felt far more dangerous than any terrorist's gun.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I forced myself to turn my head away, feigning discomfort. "That's... that's no concern of yours," I mumbled, my voice rough, betraying a hesitation I desperately wanted to hide.
I braced myself for the explosion, the fury, the inevitable tantrum. Her eyes, however, widened, not in anger, but in what looked like... understanding. Then, a slow, knowing smile curved her lips.
"I knew it," she said, her voice surprisingly calm, almost triumphant. "I knew it! Is it... is it Miss Sumire?"
My mind went into full panic mode. Sumire? Pako thought I loved Sumire? My immediate thought was to deny it, vehemently. But then, a flicker of the robot's strategic thinking, mixed with my own cowardly impulse, surfaced. It was a perfect, convenient excuse. A way out.
"Maybe," I stammered, trying to sound vague, my heart pounding in my ears. "Maybe not." I forced a noncommittal shrug, hoping to keep her guessing, to avoid a direct lie while still giving her enough to latch onto.
Pako, however, was not deterred. She squeezed my hand again, her eyes practically gleaming with determination. "Oh, Mitsuo! You're so shy! I can tell Miss Sumire your feelings for you, you know!" Her voice was full of genuine eagerness, completely oblivious to the cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. "So, is it? Do you really love Miss Sumire?"
Her gaze was intense, unwavering, demanding an answer. And with her head still on my lap, her hand holding mine, I felt utterly trapped.