Taking a break from the Senshi, Pluto decided to have a look at how Endymion had made out, so she turned the scanners back a few years….
Chiba Akira and his wife Hiromi paced nervously around the factory’s waiting room, waiting for their child to come off of the assembly line. They had been waiting for a little over a year for their bundle of joy to arrive, and though the wait was quite naturally making them nervous, they weren’t too surprised—Hiromi’s assembly had taken 11 months, and Akira’s 14, so perhaps it was just entrenched in their blueprints. Of course, it didn’t exactly help that theirs was a mixed marriage: Akira was a hard-working, entrepreneurial pickup truck who had manage to overcome the stereotypes associated with his make and model to become a successful businessman in the journalism industry, while Hiromi was a sensible, modest, two-door coupe who had been working as a secretary when she met Akira. Their romance had taken several years to develop, but eventually, they married—and while neither of their families was exactly pleased, they at least tolerated it. But now, the fruits of that romance were about to come to bear—assuming that their child would ever get here.
“I really hope nothing’s wrong…”
“Don’t worry, Hiromi—I’m sure everything will be okay.” Please let everything be okay.
Fortunately, before the two could succumb to serious apprehension, the factory’s loudspeaker kicked to life. “No. 446-6447A, your child is ready, No. 446-6447A.”
“That’s us, honey. Let’s go!”
The two of them wheeled their way over to the showroom in eager anticipation.
The minivan on site looked up. “Mr. and Mrs. Chiba?”
“Yes, that’s us.”
“Congratulations; it’s a boy.” As she said it, a silver, four door (and expensive-looking) sedan rolled out of the assembly line. After a moment’s confusion, he spotted the pale blue coupe and the forest green pickup in front of him, and rolled hesitantly towards them.
“Oh, Akira… he’s beautiful!”
“I know… just look at that body—graceful, yet distinguished… is he a…?”
“Yes, Mr. Chiba, he’s a luxury car, and an extremely high-end one at that. It took us a while to fully assemble him because he has an unusually powerful engine.”
“Heh… I guess he takes after his old man when you look under his hood.”
“Would you look at his grill?” Hiromi said as her son gurgled adorably at her. “It’s positively wonderful! And that hood ornament… what is it?”
“I’m not sure,” her husband replied. “It looks like a stallion entangled in a rose.”
“Huh… odd… but still, it’s very distinctive… he’s going to grow up to be a marvelous sedan, I just know it.”
“I think it’s safe to say that a car like this is destined for great things,” the minivan replied. “In fact, even though he technically doesn’t fall under the classification of a ‘specialty car,’ we recommend that high-end cars like him be brought in for checkups on a similar basis. Have you decided on a name?”
“Yes,” Hiromi answered without diverting her attention from her precious son. “Mamoru—Chiba Mamoru.”
It was all so wonderful… but then Pluto made the mistake of looking ahead 6 years. Much like the human Mamoru, the vehicle Mamoru also lost his parents in an accident—but while human-Setsuna had little reason to show any reaction to the sight of a totaled car, car-Setsuna was a different story. And the accident that had taken Akira and Hiromi had been a particularly grisly one, from a car’s point of view. The three had been on a family trip to see some relations (and to celebrate Mamoru’s recent birthday) in Hokkaido when an intoxicated 18-wheeler plowed right into them—turning two healthy adult vehicles into twisted, all-but-unrecognizable wreckage. It was a miracle that Mamoru had escaped unharmed, but the sight of seeing your parents dismembered before your eyes is enough to screw up any kid. Thus, the orphaned car withdrew into his own little world, suffering from severe memory loss and frequent blackouts. Sure, his parents had left him more than enough money to get by, but that was hardly enough to heal the psychological scarring. Staring at the poor luxury car, Pluto wished she could help, but she couldn’t risk interfering with the timeline—not yet, anyway.
So, instead, she just sighed to herself, and switched to another vehicle of interest, hoping that the next one would have a little more joy.
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(Posted Mon, 25 Sep 2006 18:37)
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