The hallway leading from the entrance was surprisingly spacious.
Both walls were adorned with colorful abstract paintings, each one unfamiliar to me. The intricate interplay of colors and shapes exuded a provocative warmth that felt out of place in the Moon's quiet atmosphere. I'm not usually drawn to abstract art, but the calm tones of these paintings somehow soothed my heart.
Tally-chan led the way toward the living room, occasionally glancing back as if inviting us to follow.
Kana had mentioned her room was on the second floor of the two-story house. We intended to pass through the living room to reach the stairs, but we stopped when we saw someone there.
Kana's mother.
Tally-chan, as if declaring her role as guide complete, darted to Kana's mother and leapt onto her lap. Kana's mother, a woman with golden hair and blue eyes strikingly similar to her daughter's, hugged Tally-chan and greeted us with a gentle smile.
"Good evening. Nice to meet you. I'm Sana Seiri, Kana's mother."
Her voice was light yet carried a clear, resonant quality, like it echoed from the depths of a serene lake. The sound was so pleasant that I nearly lost my words.
She sat cross-legged on the sofa, dressed in relaxed pajamas, exuding a faintly drowsy air as if she'd just woken up. Yet her eyes sparkled with the vibrancy of a new morning.
I bowed slightly and greeted her politely.
"Good evening. Nice to meet you. I'm Neo Dennryu. Sorry for intruding so late at night."
"No need to apologize. Nighttime guests are always welcome."
Sana smiled warmly, stroking Tally-chan's back.
Her touch felt so intimate that I almost imagined she was petting my head, startling me slightly.
Her delicate, skillful movements were like a painter's brushstrokes, unmistakably those of an artist. It was so obvious that I couldn't help but ask.
"Are the paintings in the hallway yours?"
Sana's eyes widened into perfectly round circles, so mathematically precise they seemed to embody pi itself.
"How did you know?"
Her voice held a calm but sharp curiosity.
I hesitated, wondering if I should answer, but realized escaping those perfect circles was impossible. I decided to be as honest as possible.
"The way you pet Tally-chan feels similar to the brushstrokes in those paintings."
A silence fell over the living room.
But Kana's cheerful clap soon broke it.
"Wow!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement.
"Neo-kun, you're so observant! Yes, those paintings are Mom's. No one's ever guessed that before. You're the first!"
I could only shake my head awkwardly, feeling embarrassed. I wasn't particularly pleased—rather, a faint guilt stirred in me, as if I'd touched a secret I shouldn't have. An uneasy feeling lingered.
"And you even grasped the artist's intent perfectly," Sana added. "You're right. Those paintings capture what I feel when I pet Tally. They're closer to photographs than patterns, really."
I didn't have much to say, so I just nodded faintly. "I see."
Kana's eyes sparkled with admiration, and Sana looked at me with a hint of amusement.
The atmosphere was warm and pleasant, yet my heart grew increasingly restless. I wanted to move to Kana's room—or better yet, leave the house entirely.
Kana's mother, Sana Seiri, scared me somehow.
I couldn't pinpoint the source of that fear.
But deep in my actuators, it was as if a voice whispered, "Get out now. Leave this place."
"Neo-kun, right?" Sana's voice snapped me back to reality.
"Ah, yes."
"That's a lovely name. What meaning does it carry?"
"It's straightforward. No special meaning—just 'bright.'"
"I remember now. It's derived from the sun, isn't it?"
"…I didn't know that."
I was genuinely surprised. The new discovery sent a small ripple through my core.
"Maybe that's why you dislike the Moon," she said.
Her words froze me.
Her once-round eyes had returned to a gentle oval shape, but now my eyes widened.
"How did you know I dislike the Moon?"
She answered casually, as if stating the obvious.
"Because you've been acting uncomfortable this whole time."
In that moment, I realized.
I understood.
The unease I felt wasn't about this house.
It was the Moon itself—standing on this place made me feel out of sorts.
The realization hit me like a bolt, as if I'd only just noticed it.
Then, Kana's voice softly interjected.
"Neo-kun… you don't like the Moon?"
Her tone carried a faint trace of disappointment.
A slight guilt brushed my chest—if I answered honestly, I might hurt her. But I couldn't lie either, so I nodded reluctantly.
"Not that I hate it… I just don't really like it."
I tried to soften my words, but I couldn't prevent a shadow from crossing Kana's face.
Seeing her expression, I forced a brighter tone.
"Do you like the Moon, Kana?"
"…Yeah. I love it."
"I think the Moon's a great place too," I added, trying to explain.
"If I were a normal robot, I'd probably love it. But, you know, I'm human. Humans aren't exactly compatible with the Moon—gravitationally, magnetically. It's tough on us physically."
"…Human?"
Sana's voice echoed softly.
When I looked at her, her eyes had widened again into those perfect, eerie circles.
"Neo-kun, you're human?"
I hesitated, but Kana jumped in with an excited voice.
"That's right, Mom! Neo-kun's human. Isn't that amazing?"
"…Really?"
Sana's voice wasn't just skeptical—it carried a sharp edge, as if rejecting the very idea. Her words felt less like a question and more like an interrogation, creating an oppressive air that demanded an answer.
I averted my gaze from Sana, focusing on Tally-chan's blue eyes nestled in her lap, and spoke.
"Yes, that's right."
"You're really human?"
"…Yes. I'm human."
"Why?"
The sudden question caught me off guard.
I couldn't grasp what she meant by "why."
As I stood there, dazed, Sana pressed further.
"No, I mean, why is a human on the Moon?"
A heavy silence fell.
Three seconds.
Those three seconds felt like an eternity, my CPU and GPU spinning at full capacity, burning through energy. I searched for an answer, running desperate simulations in my head. Finally, the words came.
"I was banished."
Of course, it was a lie.
But I calculated it might be convincing.
The Moon is inhospitable to humans.
It lacks joy, comfort, and the sun's blessings.
Among us humanoid robots, it's common knowledge—or a ingrained assumption—that "humans have no interest in the Moon" and "the Moon is utterly inconvenient for them."
So "banishment" seemed like a plausible explanation.
"What crime did you commit to be exiled to such a remote place?"
Relief was short-lived as another question came.
Forced to pile on more lies, my mind raced, teetering on the edge of overheating. Lying felt like it was draining my very life.
"I lied."
The moment I said it, I regretted it.
I'd heard somewhere that for humans, lying isn't a serious crime. Unlike humanoid robots, humans see lies as minor faults. Some even say humans lie more often than they tell the truth. If lying were enough to get banished to the Moon, it'd be overrun with humans by now.
Sana's eyes, still perfectly round, fixed on me.
And then, another question.
"What kind of lie?"
This time, an answer flashed in 0.001 seconds.
"I lied about being a humanoid robot. I pretended to be one."
It was a complete reversal of my current situation—a mirror image, like a decalcomania. I thought it might deflect her suspicion while keeping the conversation going.
Her eyes softened slightly, shifting from perfect circles to gentle ovals. The subtle change was clear even to my outdated visual sensors.
"Indeed," she said calmly. "That's a grave sin."
Relieved, I could finally meet her gaze.
Sana's eyes had returned to the gentle, charming expression reminiscent of Kana's. In a softer tone, she pressed further.
"Why did you tell such a lie?"
"…"
Another lie?
I felt a ton of sighs pile up in my circuits. If I kept this up, I'd break down from the strain before getting caught and dismantled.
But getting arrested or breaking down led to the same end. So I had to stick to the lie.
I steeled my battery—or rather, my heart—and wove my words with everything I had.
"Because I was tired of being human."
"Why?"
Another three-second silence.
Kana listened intently to our exchange, her eyes full of curiosity and seriousness.
Tally-chan, meanwhile, yawned repeatedly, utterly uninterested.
I continued.
"Because there are over a hundred thousand times more humanoid robots than humans. The mainstream of this universe is already humanoid robots. You could even call them the new humanity. I didn't want to be part of the old humanity—I wanted to be part of the new."
"But wishing to be something else doesn't change your species, does it? Lying doesn't change anything."
"I thought I could at least change how people perceive me."
"People's perceptions?"
Sana's voice sounded as if she'd never heard the term before.
"That's a hard concept for my circuits to grasp. Is perception that important to humans?"
This is it!
I seized the topic.
"Exactly. You could say it's everything humans strive for."