Chapter Text
Sometimes he often dreamt of the same scene, and it was a pleasant dream. Blue skies. Oceans. Gentle wind swaying the fields of flowers by the seaside. The scent of brine carried by the salty air. A girl with blue hair and diamonds for eyes. She would call for him. He would join her side. She would ask why he was made of wood. And he could not say.
“Pino,” the girl would say with a laugh.
He would scoff and frown. He didn’t like that name. But the girl would continue to call him that. She teased his wooden skin. And he couldn’t be annoyed with her when the blue of her hair melded into the sky so perfectly and beautifully, like the careful brush strokes of a painting, his world was blurred. When she took his hand. When her laughter drew him out of sleep, and he came to within seconds.
He would experience this dream occasionally, sometimes with differing circumstances. Sometimes he and the girl were not by the ocean, but in a city where the entirety of its streets were painted blue. Sometimes in those dreams he would be the one teasing her about her blue hair and diamond eyes. But those were rarer.
He knew the girl in his dream was meant to represent Sophia, for how could it not, and when he once asked her about what it meant, she had offered him little more than an amused chuckle before claiming she herself did not quite understand dreams, or if they truly represented anything important. Sometimes, she said, dreams were just dreams, but the fact that he could experience something surreal the way humans did was what made him special.
“So,” she had teased him, in real life this time, “would you like me to call you Pino then?”
Even in real life, he had to reject the offer, unsure if Sophia had been genuine or not, but judging by her sly smile, he ventured that she wasn’t quite so averse to such a thing whether it was real or a dream. He had wanted Father to be the one to do that, and when it dawned on him that he didn’t even know his name, it troubled him. He had only awakened recently, and something as important as his own name was lost on him. He had no recollection, none at all.
The dreams were nothing new. Sophia had entered them time and time again as the girl with the diamond eyes, and he with his wooden skin, as they skipped and played in the flowers. Did humans dream like this? Were dreams always so whimsical? He wanted to think of sleep as something always pleasant. But those dreams had been occurring long before he’d ever awakened, spanning so many lifetimes, it felt. It was eerie, in a sense, to dream of a girl who played with him sometimes, who teased him, who didn’t exist yet, until he arrived at the hotel and saw Sophia.
It had not been long he rescued Father on the bridge from that Stalker, and when he’d come back to the hotel, their reunion was brief, and he had been glad to see Father was unharmed during the confrontation, as he was quite skilled at battle somehow, the muscle memory already in effect before anything else, and he had only known to strike at frenzied puppets first with his sword and worry about the reason later. The questions continued to plague him, and as the hotel and its guests (including Father) retired to their rooms for the evening, there he was in Father’s office, lying flat on his back on the sofa by the fire, staring up at the ceiling as he nervously kicked his leg on and off the edge, fidgeting back and forth, toying with his fingers, picking at the frills of his collar. He’d never been on edge like this, but waiting for Father to awaken that morning was making him jittery for some reason.
He just had so many questions. And it wasn’t fair to burden Father when the night had waned so quickly. No one at the hotel could stay awake forever, and he too eventually succumbed to the quiet of his surroundings, lulled by the dying embers of the fire as it crackled and warmed his feet, and he was soon dreaming of that blue ocean and those diamond eyes.
It was early morning when he awakened, so early that it was still dark, and he jolted somewhat to see the orange cat that wandered around at her leisure sitting comfortably on the tea table right at his side, but the second he stirred, so did she, and with one small reach to try and steal a cheeky pet to her rump, she hissed before scrambling down from the table and darting from the room. He sighed, sitting up and frowning in disdain.
“You were the one who sat by me,” he argued, knowing it was pointless to debate with a cat, but it was the principle of the matter. There was little reasoning with a creature that had already made up her mind that she hated him, and he couldn’t figure out why he was so despised when he didn’t think of himself as scary, but maybe he was.
A soft giggle came from the doorway just as Sophia entered the room, and he quickly scooted over to allow her room to sit, which she did. With her hands in her lap, she said, “Still failing to make friends?”
He sighed, shaking his head. “I did not even do anything this time.”
“You tried to pet her. I saw.”
“After she sat next to me.”
“You still tried to pet her. You should let cats come to you first and make sure they’re ready before you pet them.” Sophia laughed again, then gently nudged his arm when he didn’t reply nor smile right away. “Are you alright?”
He nodded, glancing back at the door before over at the nearby window. The sun had not even risen yet. It was still so early. “Yes. I am just anxious about meeting with Father. It was so late last night that he retired to bed not long after returning, and he seemed quite in a hurry to postpone our conversation. I could not ask him anything.”
Sophia nodded in understanding. “Give him time to wake and rise with everyone else. Humans need a lot of sleep, and he had been wandering around the city long before you came along. He was probably just exhausted having been accosted by a Stalker like that. If you can, perhaps you should try sleeping more next time so that you don’t have to wait as much. Did you dream again?”
“Yes.” He gave pause to see if there was any evidence of someone stirring above them, but all was much too quiet in the hotel that very early morning. There was a dense fog rolling in, he could tell, just by peering out the window to the far end of the room. It would probably rain later. “It was the same dream as last time. I do not think I can control them, but the repeats do become boring after a while.” She already knew he had been dreaming of her for a long time, and she found it endearing in the oddest way, thinking perhaps it was a sign that their rendezvous had been meant to be, but he wasn’t sure about all of that.
“Humans cannot control their dreams either.” Her smile was teasing, just a bit. “Did I call you Pino again? Why won’t you let me call you that?”
He regretted telling her that once before, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, failing to find an adequate position to fold one leg over the other that didn’t either bump the table or Sophia herself. He gave up after realizing he was a bit boxed into the sofa with another person there and sighed. “I am hoping to ask Father my name. If you would name me, it would not count.”
“People can have nicknames.”
He somewhat smiled, shaking his head. “That one is a bit odd is all.” Even he thought naming himself after a tree was rather childish in some sense, especially as a nickname. He didn’t quite understand why he felt the need to stand his ground on being given a proper name, but he always frowned anytime Sophia teased him about it, as he couldn’t escape it whether it was in his dreams or in real life. They’d only known one another for a short time, but he already felt as if he’d known her for much longer, thinking of her as his older sister, and after meeting her in person, she filled that role just as well as she had in his dreams, as if it were natural.
“What about Pio?” she suddenly asked. “As shorter form? It’s still a name.”
She had a point. After giving it a few seconds of consideration, he shrugged, seeing no harm in that. “I guess I like Pio better.”
Smiling, clapping her hands together softly enough that they barely made a noise, Sophia’s entire face lit up. “Oh wonderful! Even if your Father calls you something else, I’d love to call you Pio.”
Pio nodded, a bit embarrassed Sophia was fawning over him this much. It was odd how well they connected once meeting, as if she too had experienced the same dreams he had, but she already treated him as if he were her younger brother, and he didn’t exactly hate it, he just didn’t quite understand how to handle it sometimes when she seemed so happy about the strangest of things. But, giving a nickname out was probably a rare thing for her, as she seemed rather lonely herself, seeing as how she’d revealed to him he was the only one who could see her, so perhaps she didn’t realize how pushy she came off sometimes. He didn’t hate it. Not at all.
“Unless Father tells me my real name, I do not really hate that, I do not think.” He twiddled his fingers, and then glanced down at Sophia’s hands that were neatly folded in her lap, resting atop the folds of her long dress. Despite the fact no one else in the hotel could see her, she still had a presence while around him. She still existed as if corporeal, and he’d never had the chance to ask her exactly why that was. He was a bit overwhelmed with things that didn’t make sense, and he hadn’t had time to plant his feet and begin gathering information from people.
In a spur of the moment curiosity while those thoughts raced through his mind, Pio reached over to gingerly touch her hand, and she gave a soft gasp when he did, but he merely brushed his palm over her knuckles, finding them to be solid and warm, and he looked up at her face when he did so, noting the way her gentle smile slowly fell.
“You say others cannot see you,” he stated.
Sophia nodded. “Yes. Only you.”
He dragged his hands along hers again, and touched the frill of her long sleeve, finding the fabric to have texture and sensation. He could feel as if she were physical, and he didn’t understand. “You are not a ghost?”
She chuckled. “Not quite. Would you be scared if I were a ghost?”
He shook his head. “No. So long as you do not sneak up behind me and try to scare me.”
“Oh well now you’re giving me ideas, Pio.” She giggled. “Don’t worry about my state. You’re a special puppet, remember? You can see things others cannot, and it should stand to reason that your dreams are more impactful too, wouldn’t you say?”
That wasn’t exactly an answer, but he supposed it was easier for now to accept that Sophia was a spirit who had called to him for help, and she had been responsible for awakening him, after all. He didn’t mind being friends with a ghost. “If you say so. I am just confused about a lot.”
She nodded, her smile falling again, but she held his hand back this time, giving him a measured squeeze of reassurance. “I know. Please forgive me, but once your father comes down, you two can reconcile and perhaps he will be able to clear some things up for you. I cannot offer you much now other than assisting you whenever I can. I am your friend first and foremost.”
He nodded, reaching over with his other hand, being as gentle as he could possibly be, so as not to accidentally hurt her, should he be capable of damaging her spiritual body, as his mechanical fingers gently glided over hers. The contrast of his metal hand was somehow so foreign when clasping her delicate one, and he feared for a moment simply doing that would accidentally crush her. He paid mind to his strength, very much so when interacting with humans, even ones who were like Sophia. “I understand.”
The ticking clock by the wall was the only indicator that time was slowly passing them by, as the fog became denser, the sun was struggling to break through, and it seemed as if it would remain dark all day. Pio’s ears were on high alert for the first signs of life emerging from upstairs, but he had to remain calm and not pester Father with too much all at once, as difficult as it was to bottle up the myriad of questions that were buzzing around.
There were so many things he wanted to talk about. It was very hard to sit there and not bounce his knee or check the door entrance for the tenth time. Sophia did her best to coax him into calming down as they chatted about nonsense, like the weather (which was cold and dismal), though her efforts were sadly wasted as the only time Pio’s nerves changed at all was when he finally heard the sounds of approaching footsteps, and rather than retain his composure, he was bounding out of his seat, dashing toward the door, and his smile was instant when he spied Father making way for the study. “Father!” He hadn’t meant to shout, and even Father flinched somewhat at the loud sound he just made, but he greeted him with a rather sleepy, almost obligatory smile all the same. It was subtle, but it looked like he had forced it, but it could have been Pio’s imagination, as he had shouted without meaning to. Perhaps Father thought he was being too aggressive first thing in the morning.
“Good morning, son. Have you been here all night?”
Pio nodded, opening the door wide for him and ushering him inside, trying to calm his nerves and failing, noting out the corner of his eye that Sophia had disappeared from the sofa. She had a strange ability for whisking herself away without notice, and while he knew it was expected of a ghost, it still caught him off guard sometimes when she vanished like that. She knew they would want privacy and he was grateful for the courtesy, already closing the doors once Father got properly settled at his desk. He tried to calm and bounced on the balls of his feet, placing his hands behind his back and unable to contain his smile.
He tried not to seem overexcited, but he had been bursting at the seams all evening to have a proper chat with Father, and he just hoped he wasn’t cross that he wound up staying in his private study all night long. What should he ask him first? Oh—maybe he should wait until Father had coffee. He had strode in with a cup in his hands, after all, and he looked so sleepy. Maybe it would be better for Pio to keep his mouth shut just a little while longer, but his chest was tight, and he couldn’t explain this compulsion to drag the answers out of Father in one fell swoop.
He was just mostly excited to hear what his name was. But first, he nodded at Father’s question, trying to dial it down and quiet himself. “Yes, I was. Should I not stay here at night?”
Father shook his head, having settled at his desk now with his coffee at his side, and he leaned back, stretching his legs. “No, I do not mind if you spend the night here, but I thought you might be more comfortable in a room.” His eyes lifted to regard Pio from above his monocle and it was a bit difficult to gauge Father’s mood. Even while standing there, Pio couldn’t quite understand if Father was all that thrilled about it or not. He seemed indifferent at best. “It’s a large hotel. I’m certain Antonia wouldn’t mind at all if you were to take one of the rooms for yourself.”
“Oh.” A bit nervous all over again, Pio managed to finally gain some proper control of his energy that had been running rampant that morning and he took a deep breath, now that he was finally face to face with Father, and he nodded. “I did not think to ask her.”
With a sip of his coffee, Father roved over a stack of papers on his desk, something that looked to be the schematics of a device he couldn’t identify, and he nodded. “She’s been ill for quite a while now. I wouldn’t be all that surprised if the disease is beginning to eat at her memory.” Then he looked up again with that same indifference Pio was growing a little nervous at, admittedly. “Don’t be shy to ask for amenities if you require them. Antonia had already been expecting you for a while now.”
That piqued his interest, and Pio took the initiative while it was right there for him to take as he walked to the side of Father’s desk to stand a little closer. “How did she know?”
Father actually smiled, but it seemed so weighted somehow. Maybe he really was tired as Sophia had said, but he looked like a man who had been up all night working and reading rather than someone who had collapsed to sleep after being in a rather harrowing situation. Or maybe Pio just didn’t understand. Humans seemed so fragile, and Father was no exception, perhaps even prime evidence of that fact. “Because I told her of you. Building you took quite a long while, and she is a close family friend.”
“Oh.” That made sense. He felt a little foolish now and shifted on his feet, rocking back and forth while he nervously glanced about the place again. Father wasn’t exactly an open book, but he didn’t want to come on too strong and ask him a million questions that would only annoy him. The fog had properly covered the city, as Pio struggled to see much beyond the windows, and he swallowed as he fought to figure out what to say next.
As if reading his thoughts, Father slouched in his seat, linking his fingers together. “If you have questions, you can ask me anything, son. I know you must be confused, but I will help any way that I can.”
Oh! Pio didn’t mean to jolt at the start, an aggressive twitch that was enough to audibly jangle the springs within him, and he somehow, by some miracle, managed not to exclaim his excitement outright, and while he failed to hide the smile he made, he did stop himself from crying aloud. It was a bit frightening that he couldn’t quite handle his emotions, as he could feel his innards whirring during a high stress situation, especially a fight, and he could become a little twitchy, but this was a different type of stress.
Father did not appear to notice his rather jarring behavior, or if he did, then perhaps he understood that in a way Pio was still learning to control his body, if it were. He quickly stood at attention, since Father was being so kind as to give him the chance to bother him with nonsense, but now that he’d been put on the spot, he found, “I had so many questions, but I did not want to bombard you.”
“You can ask me anything, son.”
Father was so kind and patient with him, and before Pio could really sit and contemplate what to ask first, he blurted out, “What is my name?”
The reaction from Father wasn’t quite what he expected, but Pio didn’t even know why he searched for a small smile that wasn’t there, a sudden recollection, a softening of the features. Father did none of that. His expression remained as indifferent as before, and he merely shook his head. “I haven’t thought of that, if I’m honest.”
Pio’s nerves all but melted on the spot, as even his shoulders drooped, his excitable twitching coming to an instant halt, and for some reason, that nonchalant admission disappointed him way more than it should have. But—maybe he was being too harsh. “Oh. You have not come up with one yet?” Names were difficult things to settle on, he supposed. Even while Father was busy with work, as Pio knew he had taken a long time to build him as he said, perhaps naming him had fallen wayside when there were other priorities he had to focus on. He shouldn’t have gotten his feelings hurt, and they weren’t, but he at least thought maybe Father had one already picked out for him. He’d set his expectations too high was all.
Father shook his head, and even laughed softly as though he were amused. “I cannot say it was ever on my mind while I built you. I only ever thought of you as my son, so I suppose son is what you are to me.”
That was not quite the name he was hoping for, and Pio didn’t mean to let on how unsatisfying it was that he never even had a name to begin with, and he took a step closer to Father, even bending down to his knees to lower himself so that he could sit on the floor to look up at his father. “Then will you name me now?”
“Ah…” Father looked incredibly uncomfortable then, and Pio worried he’d been too insistent when Father was probably more exhausted than he let on, as he took a sip of his coffee before answering. “I am notoriously awful at properly naming things, I’m afraid. Most children would be thrilled to name themselves, as I cannot recall ever meeting a single child that did not hate the name their parents gave them.”
Pio was a bit taken aback, and his chest was tight all over again. He shook his head. “I do not think that. I would be happy with whatever name you come up with, Father, even if you think it is a bad one.”
But his father shook his head and waved him off. “I am not that creative. You might have more luck with Antonia. If you do manage to get a name from her, you’ll have to pass it on to me.” Then he shook his head, his smile sheepish, and it was obvious even to Pio that Father wanted this conversation to be over. “Forgive me, son. I just do not have anything in mind is all. Nothing I feel would be suitable.”
All Pio could do was nod and try to be understanding, but he struggled to hide that it pained him in the strangest way that Father wasn’t even willing to try, though he just as quickly caught himself, because Father had been through a lot, and prying him first thing in the morning when he looked so tired wasn’t what he needed, so Pio had no reason to be upset by the resistance. It was just a name. And Sophia had already given him one.
He bit his bottom lip, feeling a little foolish as he whispered, “Pio…” and Father perked.
“What’s that?”
He spoke again, louder this time. “I heard the name Pio once.”
Father did not seem quite as infatuated with it as Sophia had been, but so far, Pio had trouble figuring out Father’s mood, and he wondered if he was acting rather cold because Pio had made him cross somehow, but he couldn’t figure out what he could have done to give Father a reason to be so. His father merely nodded before sipping more of his coffee. “If that is how you wish to refer to yourself, then I think it’s as fine a name as any.”
It wasn’t quite the warm acceptance that Pio wished it was, but he smiled at it anyway.
Father then glanced out the window at the first rays of sunlight that were desperate to break through the clouds before turning back to Pio and changing the subject. “Son, I need a favor.”
Pio was back on his feet, already at attention and prepared. “Yes?”
Father’s expression hardened, and it was rather startling to see him grow so serious all of a sudden. “You’ve seen the city, the way it’s breaking at its foundation, the streets that are in shambles. I know it’s dangerous out there. I know you’ve already faced against mad puppets that pose danger, but I need you to travel to Venigni Works and find any survivors there. Understand that part of the reason I built you was to give the city a fighting chance, and I know you’re the only one who can do it.”
Pio nodded. He had already understood this from the moment he awakened, because fighting had come so naturally to him, and it was one of the few things that made sense among all the other confusion. Father had created him to be the sword that would strike the frenzy at its core, and he would perform his duty if it meant saving the city. He had already accepted this, so it was no surprise that Father was making these requests of him so soon. “Yes, Father. I will go there now.”
“Save Venigni if you can. He traveled there some time ago and we’ve lost all contact with him. I fear the worst, but keep your guard up.” Pio nodded, and turned to leave, but was stunned when Father suddenly reached out then, and nabbed his wrist to stop him. Just as quickly, Pio whirled around to Father’s steely eyes, and he did not smile when he said, “Please stay safe, son. You’re precious to me in a way you cannot understand. I cannot stomach the idea of you getting hurt.”
Pio nodded, and touched Father’s hand as a sign of reassurance. “I will be very careful. I am strong. I can handle myself.”
“Thank you, son.”
When he was released, Pio hurried from the office, his face feeling somewhat flushed for some reason, his chest tight all over again, because while Father could say some arguably very tender things to him, very affectionate things, he did not see it in the body language for some reason. Father appeared stiff and maybe even a bit guarded while Pio was there, expressionless with only a rare, subtle smile here and there. His eyes did not match the words, and Pio didn’t know why it bothered him then, because—
Maybe he was put off for some reason. After all, Pio knew he’d come on a bit strong, and while Father had invited it, perhaps he shouldn’t have asked him about giving him a name and putting Father on the spot like that. A name hadn’t been so important for his father to give, and Pio didn’t want to dwell on the fact so much and take it to heart that he wasn’t even willing to try giving him one, but it struck him as a bit lackadaisical was all.
He just wanted to make Father proud, and the only way to do that was to find survivors while helping to clear out the city of dangerous puppets, and there was no sense in speculating and stressing over things that didn’t really matter when there were more important issues staring him in the face, so with no goodbye to Antonia, hardly a word to Sophia as he flew down the stairs, Pio grabbed his sword that sat by the reception desk, along with the Monad lamp he clipped around his belt that housed Gemini (who was very annoyed at having been abandoned all night), before making way from the hotel to head toward Venigni Works. He still had a mission to accomplish after all, and Pio knew he was capable, quite capable, of holding his own in battle.
All he could think of was that maybe once he returned, maybe if he managed to save some people, that Father would be pleased with him, and be a bit more willing to engage. It gave him the determination to carry on with confidence, and he was out into the foggy streets, not soon long gone toward the factory.