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The Organization had piles upon piles of impressionable little boys to train up into weapons, and the only thing that made Chikage different was that he listened well enough to survive. He’s still relatively young, but he understands why Sakyo doesn’t protest when the kids call him a geezer. When you thought you would be dead in a trunk somewhere by age twenty, turning thirty does seem like senior citizenship, he supposes, and he can certainly relate.
—
“My name is Guy.”
“Guy what?” Chikage inquires.
“Guy.”
“You have no surname?”
“I do—” A long pause. He’s buffering. “I do not have a surname. That is correct.”
Maybe Guy hesitated just then for a particular reason, or maybe that’s Chikage’s confirmation bias. He doesn’t know why he so desperately wants Guy to be human.
—
“An average soldier,” Chikage repeats incredulously. “You’re telling me that they hired an average soldier to be the crown prince’s bodyguard?”
Guy tilts his head. “Hmm. Perhaps my earlier statement did not properly convey my situation. It’s true that I was situated in a unique military unit, but not for any particular skill. Just because I was… replaceable.”
“Replaceable.”
“As an android.”
“I’m sure. But that doesn’t explain—”
“Allow me to finish, Utsuki.” Chikage shoves down the brief satisfaction he gets from drawing out what could almost be considered a rise out of Guy. The android continues. “I was promoted to the position of Citronia’s bodyguard by pure chance. I was simply at the right place at the right time. As a child, the prince happened upon me by accident and demanded I become his attendant on what I assume to be pure whim.”
Chikage wants to laugh. If he’s right about how Guy was brought up, then Citron must have been born wise. Fit for the throne, truly.
“That sounds like something he would do.”
If Guy were human, Chikage imagines there would be a fond smile on his face at this part. But he isn’t.
“Yes. It is.”
—
“I told you,” Citron protests, smiling through watery eyes. “There would be other actors! Veludo Way is full of them, but did you listen to Citron’s SAGE, GENIUS ADVICE? Nooooo—”
“Shut up.” Masumi says, reaching for a tissue. “Please shut up. We’re going home now. I am tired of the Zahran sun.”
Sakuya giggles. “There would have been other actors, but there wouldn’t have been other Citrons, you know. I have no interest in a stepmother.”
“And I have no interest in remarrying,” Itaru concurs solemnly, before burying his nose back into the rhythm game he’s playing.
Citron considers this for a moment. “That is true. I am irresponsible.”
“Irreplacable.” Tsuzuru interjects. “But I guess you were right the first time, too.” That gets a laugh out of everyone, like Citron and Tsuzuru always do. It's a hopeful reminder of things going back to normal soon, even though Chikage knows they never truly will. But they're still on the high of just getting Citron back and they can worry about the deeper, more disturbing truths of his disappearance in the first place another day.
Chikage makes sure to shoot Guy a pointed look before he lets himself get distracted by the revelry. He hopes the message is getting through.
—
"I'm certainly unique in Japan," Guy tells him, months later. "This skin color, these eyes, these eyebrows. It's a new feeling."
Chikage snorts. "You don't get used to it."
A sharp, curt nod. "I figured as much."