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roseydesuuu · 2 months

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crimson

Inspiration: autumn comes when you're not yet done by tieressian

Word count: 11.8k

Warnings: smut, reader's in some twisted sugar daddy relationship with the committee, death, murder

Summary: In the end, both of you are human, even if he resembles a god

The first time you meet Hinata, he has a bruise on his cheek and scratches all over.

"Hinata-senpai!" You gasp, tossing your clipboard onto the table and rushing over to him. "Stay still!"

"Wait-"

"I don't want to hear the story right now! You need to be patched up!" You rush behind him for a medical kit, and he watches you, eyes wide with surprise.

It's a horrifying idea, really. Being handed a clipboard and then told to take care of a student on your first day at Hope's peak. Something about the Hope Cultivation Plan. You're surprised to meet eye to eye with two boys who look no older than you. No, both of them were one year your senior. You weren't even supposed to be in the class under them. You had just been called in to deal with the psychology aspect of the entire project after accepting to be a student in the following year.

Your hands are gentle against his skin. Your movements are practiced, and you patch him up quickly. Matsuda walks in on the sight of you applying antiseptic onto his cheek. You press the patch to his skin, and you sigh as you finish. You're the new one on the project; the psychologist brought in after the neurologist requested a psychologist aide.

"Story." You pout at him. "Please. I barely met you, and here you are, bruised all over. Don't you know that this project requires the best body out there? Argh."

Hinata laughs awkwardly, but he spills the story. You learn quite a bit about him from the story. People aren't careful with their words. Hinata ends up spilling much more than he intended to you, and he mentions that he doesn't want to be normal; in fear of being not enough. He talks about the murder of his classmates, and how the ultimate got involved. He talks about wanting to talk to a student but being forced out of the main building. You suppose it's to be expected.

"So..." You stare at the background papers they finally gave you. "You don't want to get kicked out because you can't pay the fees? Isn't being talentless a gift?"

Hinata's eyes widen at your words.

"Oi-" Matsuda frowns. "Newbie."

"Just hear me out," You flip through the paper. "We ultimate are tied to our talents for the rest of our lives. I'm stuck treating patients until there's nothing left for me to do. One day, I'll look out the window and pray I wake up without talent the next morning. Treating people who are worse than me is going to take a toll on me."

Hinata looks to the side in distaste. "That's just because you have a talent."

"Hinata-senpai," You mumble sadly. "We all want something we can't have. You and I aren't different."

Hinata stares to the side, avoiding your gaze in anger. "Ah, who are you again?"

You hum. "I'm the ultimate psychologist, Y/n L/n. Feel free to call me Y/n. How are you feeling today? Other than the story about the bruise"

Matsuda, who you later on learned was the neurologist, sits through the entire session with you. He makes no move to interfere when Hinata gets excited, and you think your session bores him a little bit. But you suppose the higher-ups wanted him to keep an eye out on the new one. You don't blame them. You suppose that makes the chase more fun.

"Hinata-senpai, any discomfort?" You stare at the notes about his background.

"No," He shakes his head. "Ah, it feels weird being called senpai by a doctor taking care of me. You can call me Hinata," He nods slowly, no sign of a smile on his face.

"Subject... I333K." You hum. "Yes. So have you signed the waiver?"

"No." He shakes his head. "I was told you'd provide it."

"Matsuda-san?"

"Here," He hands the paper to the boy, and he stares at it. "Your parents signed it three hours ago. The ultimate psychologist wanted to meet with you before you signed it. Is everything normal?"

"To be expected." You shrug. "He's got a perfect brain from the other tests we ran on him earlier. He's perfectly average in every way. It's interesting, actually. If he wants to, we can progress early."

Hinata watches the two of you discuss his brain.

"All of his nerve cells have an excellent connection," Matsuda points at the highlighted regions of his brain. "It's like a textbook model."

"That's good." You hum. "Perfect to work with, right?"

"Yes," He nods.

"Do you mind asking the questions?" You mumble. "He appears to be doing well, but I need you to ask the questions and for me to observe another time. I need catch any microexpressions."

"What are you? Paul Eckman?" Matsuda scoffs. "Why do you need to read his microexpressions?"

"Because if I don't, then something is going to happen. I'm responsible for the patient," You shrug. "You know that, doctor."

Matsuda asks the questions, and you note down any expressions that flash across his face. Your face remains neutral the whole time, yet Hinata can tell that you're a cheerful person from your face alone. Your resting face has your lips tugged upward into a gentle smile. Your notes are messy scribbles, yet you write with a gel pen. You don't seem very professional if anything.

"And finally, any medical history we should know about?"

"Nothing," Hinata rubs the back of his neck.

"Uh oh," You pout. "You're lying! Now, what was it? A broken bone? Undiagnosed schizophrenia? Or even worse, munchausen syndrome by proxy?"

"No!" He raises a brow. "It's just... I've broken an arm before."

"No medication as of right now?"

"None." Hinata nods.

"Got it," He hums. "Anything else?"

"Ah," You kick Matsuda's revolving chair out of the way. "Have you ever medically diagnosed with an anxiety disorder or mood disorder?"

"No?" Hinata looks concerned.

You note that down, and you grin. "Onto more personal matters. Your grades as of right now."

"Straight Cs."

"Average student," You scribble onto the paper. "Number of friends?"

"They're both dead."

You pause and blink. "Right. No other friends, though?"

"One, from the main course."

"Alright," You tap the end of your pen against the clipboard, and Matsuda gets up from his fallen chair. He takes note of the way Hinata's knuckles are white while you read through the rest of the questions. Hinata wants a talent desperately. The feeling of worthlessness claws at the back of his mind, eating away every other thought. When the principal promised him a talent through the hope restoration project, he thought it was a sign from the heavens. He needed this. Yet, as he watches you read through the questions, he doesn't understand why you would tell him that you hate treating people when it's your talent. Nothing adds up.

"You have questions written all over your face," You grumble. "Spill it. Don't tell me you don't have any. I know you do."

"Do you... like your talent?"

"It's not that I dislike it," You kick your legs onto the edge of the table. "It's just that it becomes boring when it's not a passion. Some people adore their talents. I am not one of them. I'm stuck treating patients every day and understanding the logic behind every single person and why they do something. I resemble an ultimate analyst almost; yet I'm not, because I consider all emotions and do things that the analyst can't. You had another question."

Hinata's surprised at how well you read him. "Ah... I don't understand why you dislike your talent."

"It's boring," You shrug. "Alright, last question. Since the process of the surgery is confidential, you realize that you are signing liability away, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then, without further ado," You sign the bottom of the paper, and Matsuda signs the second space. "Welcome to the team. We look forward to working with you," You kick your legs off the table. "Hajime Hinata."

When he grasps your hand to shake it, you know where this is going to end up.

"So... am I moving in here?"

"Yeah," You nod. "I'll start procedures in a week. Get adjusted to this while we're at it."

You hold complete power over a patient under your wing.

Matsuda supposes you're strange to some degree. He watches you break out a camera from the stuffed animal and review the entire hour that the three of you talked. You might've not taken specific notes during the actual meeting, but your writing is detailed and fine from the video. You observe Hinata to the millisecond, spending 15 minutes on a simple facial expression, breaking it down to the possible things that occurred. It doesn't matter as much to you as you'd want to admit, but you had cared for plenty of people before attending Hope's peak. He was no exception.

-Ѱ-

Information collected:

General reasoning: Average

Intelligence quotient: Average

Emotional quotient: Average

Brain scans: Normal

Talents acquired: None

Note from doctor:

Patient signed the waiver. This means he will be expelled and start the process. Having said that, please provide at least 30 minutes of (real) sunlight time to patient on days off. I can accompany him or a guard. If patient develops depression, it will be hard to rewire a broken brain. Other than that, all signs are healthy. Nothing sad is read from his microexpressions.

Signed, Ultimate Psychologist

-Ѱ-

Matsuda doesn't share any details about the experiment. If anything, he might be in the dark about it as well. He doesn't pose any questions like you do. You're pretty sure the Steering Committee is about to fire you. But as you bat your lashes innocently in the name of protecting your patient, they let you off. They're going to alter his brain of some sort. You wonder if it'll cause him brain trauma. Matsuda tells you that's not part of your job. You ignore him and ask the guards around. They don't know either.

You're incredibly keen. Matsuda wonders if you're older than him sometimes. You but each person you meet, and as soon as you get what you need, the bug is gone. You're touchy, and while it seems annoying to many, you get what you want. He supposes that's what makes you so trustworthy. No patient's secret is sold, but any spare gossip you heard from students is always spared for some extra help. You will get what you want. It doesn't concern you. Anything not about your patients doesn't concern you.

You're a terrifying force to be reckoned with. The Steering Committee had granted you access to every single room in the building within the span of the week you moved in. Matsuda knows the way they stare at you. It's the human flaw to the bone. It's sickening. Yet, you use it to your advantage. The way that your lipstick's always ruined after a meeting makes Matsuda sick.

But as much as Matsuda hates you, you are someone who puts your patient first. Treatment is hard for Hinata the first week. He has to adjust to learning a new skill each day, and you're stuck observing him and forcing him to practice until it's written into his bones. You always stay until he's ready to leave, and you've given him an on-call button for when he needs help. You start treatment slowly. Hinata's put into the situations and forced to learn a skill until his fingers bleed or his mind breaks.

"What's today?" Hinata looks tired. The bags are forming under his eyes, and you can tell he's been working half to death.

"Something much gentler than yesterday," You smile, holding up a crochet kit. "I won't force you to master it at once, but we do need to start learning skills that we can't promise perfect implementation through surgery."

"Right..." Hinata grimaces.

You smile. "Shall we go over how to crochet?"

"You know how to?"

"Isn't it simple? I am allowed to have hobbies outside of my talent," You smile at him. "So,"

You're good with your hands and words. Hinata learns how to crochet basics from you incredibly quickly. He works fast, and you even consider teaching him knitting that same day. Yet as Hinata seems to smile at the yarn when he finishes, you decide it could be saved for another day. He looks somewhat at peace after two weeks of a literal hell.

He has pretty green eyes. The eyes are a determined shade of green as he starts a new ball of yarn. Despite being locked up for a month, he's progressing slowly. By now, he's gotten at least 20 of the talents expected of him. Other skills would be learned through surgery later on. You still don't know the exact number of times they're going to put him under.

He works slowly per your instructions, and he eventually speeds up. Although you don't tell him, he's required to master this by the end of the day and show you results the next. The two of you sit in silence, and chat idly while you crochet. Hinata speeds up with time, and by the time you finish one, he has four ready.

"Incredible!" You gasp. "You really are fast, Hinata-kun! You're speeding up!"

"Not only that," Matsuda closes the door as he enters. "His cerebellum's neural connection has improved significantly."

"Ah, really?" Hinata looks happy.

"What's the cerebellum store," You throw a scalpel at Hinata, and he dodges. Matsuda shows you the new brain scan.

"Implicit memories?"

"Good job!" You clasp your hands together. "Seems like he remembers the neuroscience stuff."

"Mm," Matsuda grumbles. "You haven't paid them a visit lately. The old men."

"I got what I wanted," You shrug. "There's no need. It's not like I don't have them on a leash anyways."

"You what?"

Hinata stares at you press a napkin to your lips and apply a wine red.

"You're uncomfortable?"

You stare at the boy. "Don't worry about it."

"This stupid dumbass has been s-"

"That's enough," You smack your hand over Matsuda's mouth, and you scribble a note on your clipboard. "Prep surgeries start tomorrow as told... They basically rewire your brain so that you can learn more... and suffer more brain trauma."

"Trauma?" Hinata looks scared.

"How do you think some people get their talents?" You shrug. "In two days, we master the art of chess."

"Oh, god," Hinata groans.

"Bye! I hope surgery goes well!" You wave at him as the two of you make it out of the room. Matsuda doesn't ask you any questions as to why you suddenly decided to teach him crochet of all things, but he does speak up about the surgery.

"I start tomorrow." He flips through his files. "I've been told to rewire his cerebellum. The fact that you've already improved neural networking there is going to make my job much easier."

"That's good," You flip through your own papers. "I have to report to the committee today. Thanks for bringing the right lipstick shade."

"Whose dick are you sucking today?"

"No one's," You hum as you find the right page. "There is a lot more to making sure a patient is safe than just sucking old men dick."

"Whatever you say," He rolls his eyes as the two of you enter the room.

-Ѱ-

Information collected:

General reasoning: Average

Intelligence quotient: Average

Emotional quotient: Average

Brain scans: Normal - cerebellum neural networking improved

Talents acquired: 27

Doctor's note:

Patient seems good. Although a little apprehensive about the whole thing, he doesn't seem to be too worried. Surgery in the cerebellum can begin. Next surgery is advised to be surgery regarding the hippocampus. Muscle memory can be strengthened but explicit memory has to be improved as well.

Signed, Ultimate Psychologist.

-Ѱ-

"We're doing... baking?"

"Muscle memory," You grin. "But yes, baking."

"Out in the sun?"

"It's the perfect time to gather your daily vitamin d," You shrug, lips quirked into a smile.

"At the sunroof?"

"It's not like you're allowed outside," You smile at him.

Hinata is groggy from the surgery still. Playing chess with you after surgery was a nightmare. You had called Matsuda in for help, and the two of you obliterated him in the game. He worked his ass off to learn all the strategies, and eventually, he managed to memorize the chessboard.

"Kf4," Matsuda stares at the chessboard.

"Ra8," Hinata presses the butter down.

"Rg1," Matsuda clicks his tongue. "You lost, again."

"Ugh," Hinata grumbles. "This isn't fair! Both of you are ultimates!"

"Hinata-kun, neither of us are the ultimate chessmaster," You point a finger at him. "Again."

"Again?"

"You can visualize the chessboard now," You hum. "That's an improvement."

"Is it?" Hinata stares at you uncertainly.

"Working memory at it's finest." You smile. "considering that we haven't operated on your hippocampus yet, it's pretty remarkable."

"Starting over." Matsuda resets the board. "You're white."

"d4."

"Nf6,"

The two go back and forth, and you recall it from a chess championship. You don't remember when or where but you think you've heard of this game before. You wonder if Matsuda knows. He probably doesn't.

"Hinata-kunn," You peek at his batter. "You have't added the sugar..."

"Ah," He pauses in his moves to add the sugar.

"Kf7,"

"Nd4." Hinata calls back, finishing his batter.

"Chocolate chips?"

"No, thank you," Hinata shakes his head, scooping the batter onto the tray. The two of you set the cookie batter, and Hinata places all the trays onto the cart the two of you took up to the sunroof.

"How many hours of exercise?"

"Two..."

"Today?"

"Yeah."

"That's enough," You hum. "Your heartrate went above, right?"

"Kd8," Matsuda calls.

"f5,"

"Qg1." Matsuda clicks his tongue.

"Ng7," Hinata silently cheers.

"Good job," You nod at Matsuda, and he cleans up the chessboard.

"What's next?"

"We watch you bake the cookies," You smile. "And if you burn them, tomorrow's going to be hell."

"What is this positive punishment you're shoving onto me?"

"Oh, you know!" You gasp. "Congrats! But you still need to bake the cookies."

Hinata turns out to be a pretty decent baker. His cookies come out a little raw, but they're edible. Yours come out just fine. He frowns when he spots the same temperature as yours, and you grin at him. "Wanna know why mine are better?"

"Why?"

"You added too much butter." You grin. "I'm off to send these around. I'll drop by in a bit for a cookie. Tomorrow, you learn another talent."

"What's next?"

"Calligraphy," You hum. "And then after that, you get your second surgery the day after."

"on which part?"

"Hippocampus." You hum. "That should speed up your learning speed since we'll be trying to make your working memory hold more than plus or minus seven."

Hinata looks to the side. "What else?"

"After that..." You grimace. "You start the traumatizing stuff. We're getting guinea pigs brought in so you can master how to perform surgery."

"No."

"Yes." You nod. "I won't be in charge of that, but I will be in the room to watch. Good luck."

The door closes with a muffled click.

"I brought cookies!!!" You wave your arm cheerfully at Matsuda and the guards. He turns around to grab one off of your tray, and you hand one to each of the guards, skipping down the hall. The way to a person's heart is through the stomach, yet you do everything. Matsuda no longer cares if you're manipulating him like his best friend, he's grown used to it.

"What flavour today?" One of the guards pulls down their mask to bite into the cookie.

"Sugar cookies," You hum. "Without too much sugar."

"It's good," he hums. "What did you want to know today?"

"How was the surgery last time?"

"They had to put him down on pills afterwards." He mumbles. "With Xanax or something."

You pause. That bad? You grimace as the guard takes another cookie, and you sigh. "Thank you. I figured that Matsuda-senpai had prescribed him something. I'll talk to him about it today. Thank you!"

"Can we have biscuits next time?"

"Sure." You hum. "Honey?"

"Honey."

"Hinata-kun?" You peek into the kitchen at the boy taking out his cookies. They're good now.

"Do you... want one?"

"Sure," You hand him one of yours, and he hands you his. You bite into it.

"Oh... you know what? This would be good if you had chilled the cookie batter in the fridge before..."

"That's an option?"

"Mhm!" You grin. "It's really good too."

"I'll try that next time."

-Ѱ-

Information collected:

General reasoning: Average

Intelligence quotient: Above Average

Emotional quotient: Average

Brain scans: Normal - cerebellum surgery improved neural networking - success

Talents acquired: 59

Doctor's note:

Patient will undergo surgery in the hippocampus region of the brain next. After surgery, he will officially start learning every medical surgery process. Real humans are requested, and he will be given a neutralizer for his amygdala each time he operates on a human until his amygdala is destroyed via surgery next appointment. Please start logging patient's hours under the sun.

Signed, Ultimate Psychologist

Additional notes:

A minimum of four days of mandatory rest will be forced upon patient after hippocampus surgery. This is non-negotiable.

-Ѱ-

"Time for your checkup!" You grin, breaking into Hinata's room after a week. "Have you had your 30 minutes of sunlight yet? I can go with you! I brought a picnic basket and everything."

After your notes to the Steering Committee, you had assigned one of the guards to take Hinata out to the sunroof each day for at least fifty minutes in a day. The first day, he had to be wheeled because of how awful he felt from the surgery. Thankfully, it was only a brief moment. Matsuda hadn't damaged his hippocampus at all, only improving the functions.

"Ah... I already did..." Hinata stares at you. You wonder if he's traumatized after you locked him up for a whole week against the Steering Committee's wishes.

"Too bad!!" You grin. "The committee can deal with me. Shall we go? We can go on the roof."

"Ah... sure," Hinata scratches his cheek as you drag him through the halls.

"I figured," Matsuda stops discussing with a scientist before following the two of you. You scan your eye at the door, and the door to the elevator opens. You stare up at the security camera and strike a pose before throwing a cloth over it. You tap your foot on the floor, and you grin. The door opens on the top floor, and you grin at the sun.

"Oh, my beloved vitamin d!!" Matsuda takes the picnic basket from your arms, and you spread the mat. "So, Hinata, shall we get started?"

"Sure," He smiles softly, sitting next to you.

"How are you feeling today? Did anything weird happen since I last saw you? Anything."

"Nothing," He mumbles. "I just... I'm nervous? You locked me up in my room for a week other than the daily sun trips. It hurt."

"That one's on me," You hum. "Your hippocampus ended up taking a little more of a hit than we planned, so we had to put you on hold for a bit. This project matters a lot to the Steering Committee. The Hope restoration project is kind of concerning. Shall we practice stories today? I'll throw you a couple words."

"Sure."

"Pink, glow, click." You uncap your pen, ready to write notes.

Hinata tells you a story of a girl who sits by the fountain. She has pink hair, and when the sun shines from behind her on its way down, she glows. Hinata talks about a boy whom she had befriended with disgust written all over his tongue, the way the two's GameBoy keys click. You sit and listen to Hinata tell the story. He's speaking from experience.

"That's a story of your own, is it not?"You tap your pen against the clipboard. "Anything else, Hinata?"

"Ah," He pauses. "I... miss Chiaki."

"Hold my shit," You throw your clipboard and pen at Matsuda, and he reaches for a scalpel.

"Pull that out on me and I'll put laxatives in your cookie next time," You click on your phone, and you grin. "No biggie. Alright, is that all you're feeling? Anything else? Apprehension... excitement... nervousness?"

"No..." Hinata stares out the glass longingly. "I just... want to get the talents and talk to Chiaki soon."

"Understandable," You hand him a kusamochi from the basket. "The girl from the main course is Chiaki?"

"Yeah," He nods, staring at you for any sign of emotion. "Why are you conflicted?"

"I regret teaching you about microexpressions," You huff. "I'm not. I just had a moment of realization that the pink haired girl who sat every day by the fountain was called Chiaki."

"Every day?"

"She seems to be waiting for you," You shrug. "Other than that, she's fine, I think. I've never stopped to talk to her before. Shall I do that next time?"

"Please. Thank you," He feels a little better, biting down on the snack. "Ah, do you know how their class is doing?"

"Eh," You shrug. "Same as always. I heard they had soup laced with an aphrodisiac or something."

"Huh?"

"Everyone's fine," You bite into your sandwich. "Thankfully."

"Ah," He frowns.

"You want your talents soon, huh?" You stare at the frown on his face for a moment.

"I do."

"I'll talk to them about speeding up the process. Just to let you know, there's much more than just the surgery part," You pause. "There's... also the actual training after that."

"Training?"Hinata raises a brow. "Aren't I going through a training already?"

"They gave me the schedule for the harder talents," You grimace. "Hinata-kun, it's like traumatizing an adult. Do you know how bad it is? It could make you schizophrenic or give you depression. Hinata-kun, please-"

"I want to," He stares at you, eyes full of pain. "I want to have the talent."

"There's no use convincing him," Matsuda slices the apple in the basket, and he hands the two of you a third. "Don't blame either of us when you leave the pod."

You stare at Matsuda, brows furrowed, pain written all over your face. He knows. You'll come to regret not being able to save him all of your life, but you don't have much of a choice. In the end, no matter how much the Steering Committee got along with you, there was no way they would heed your advice on something that they spent years preparing. You have to stand on the side for that one. It is the one time they'll force you to.

"Hinata," You let out a breath. "Even if you lose your identity as Hajime Hinata?"

"Huh?"

"Are you willing to exchange your whole being in order to hold every single talent there is?"

Hinata stares at you. You don't know if he knows. You don't know if he can take knowing this. His entire existence as Hajime Hinata would be erased. In exchange for the talent he wanted so badly, he would give up himself as a being. He's already been given more anesthetic than necessary during his surgeries, you don't want him to get struck. He has a chance to leave before the deal closes and forces him to forget his entire existence.

Hinata isn't stupid. Well, he knows all the terms and conditions of the project. He's the guinea pig, and in exchange, he's given all the talents in the world. He wants this. He's tired of feeling like he's inferior to those with a talent. Yet, as he watches you recall everything from a textbook with ease, knowing that you worked for your talent, he falters.

"Talents..." You pause yourself. "Are bought."

"Huh?" Hinata stares at you, pausing mid-reach into the basket.

"The rich," You swallow. "We're born with a significant advantage, because we can learn things incredibly young, with the right teachers. Our parents spend money on us in exchange for our development of a talent. That's what a lot of us are. Talents like musicians, gamers, housekeepers, mechanic... we're all people who pushed our whole being into something to develop a talent. Hinata-kun, we worked hard for our talents."

Hinata doesn't want to hear another lecture.

"The rich are guaranteed a spot at this school," You smile sadly. "Hinata-kun, when you come out of surgery... no. That's selfish."

Hinata watches you stand up, and you stretch your arms above your head. Your shirt hikes up the side of your waist, and his expression grows grim. He watches you wipe your lipstick off and put on a velvet red.

"What do you need this time?"

"I want to monitor Hinata after the surgery," You stare at yourself in the window's reflection. "I'm going to work for it."

"And if they lie to you? You lied to them about locking him up."

"Then I get turned down," You stare at the lipstick. Hinata takes note that you're at the end of the pigment.

"What does that color mean?"

"Nothing that you should worry about," You fish out your ID, and you toss it to Matsuda. "That goes back downstairs. Take him to the room in around ten minutes. Take the other hallway."

Matsuda grimaces.

Hinata's picked up a few cues from staying with you in the building. You have a total of six different shades of lipstick. Well, five. Your lips usually rest with a light pink tink from your vaseline, yet occasionally, you put on lipstick. He doesn't understand why, but the look of disgust the ultimate neuroscientist gives you as you put on four of the five shades of lipstick rubs him the wrong way. It's like you reserved lipstick for something... only the Steering Committee knows about. It rubs him the wrong way, yet as he watches you leave every time, he fears that you'll leave for good one day.

He sits in silence with Matsuda.

"Do you know what their lipsticks mean?"

"What?"

"Each one represents a different Steering Committee member. Every single time you've been let off, it's because of those lipsticks," Matsuda frowns in disgust. "Do what you will with that information. Let's go back to your room."

Hinata thinks he knows.

You wipe the shade from your lips, your hair messed up from all the grabbing. You rinse out your mouth, the taste of disgust crawling up your spine. Strange. You thought you took a pill to suppress emotions before it. As you brush your teeth and adjust your hair, you take note of the red smeared on your bottom lip. You look like a mess, yet you got what you wanted. It felt disgusting. Those meaty hands grabbing the back of your head, forcing you to take more of what you despised. In the end, you were no better than a disgusting little whore.

As you step out of the bathroom, your eyes meet Matsuda's.

"What did you do it for this time?" He holds a makeup wipe, and he hands it to you. You wipe off the lipstick you couldn't get off, and you sigh.

"I wanted to be in charge of him after the surgery. I told you." You sigh. "Take a look at the back of my throat. Anything?"

Matsuda stares, and he shakes his head. "You disgust me."

"Cool. People do things to survive," You hum, pressing the vaseline onto your lips again. "Even if it disgust them."

"You have no need to."

"Why do you think we got a kitchen in this stupid building? Is it not my doing?"

"You didn't need to."

"Yes, but he needed it so he could make somewhat of a good memory before death."

"I suppose."

-Ѱ-

Information collected:

General reasoning: Above Average

Intelligence quotient: Above Average

Emotional quotient: Average

Brain scans: Normal - hippocampus surgery improved neural networking - success

Talents acquired: 79

Doctor's note:

Patient will undergo the remaining surgery in the next session. His amygdala will be neutralized, and any parts containing emotions or memories will be wiped. Then, we will implement the rest of the talents through information injection the Ultimate Neurologist is in charge of. Patient's emotions are stabilized, though missing a friend. No issue other than that.

Signed, Ultimate Psychologist

-[Steering Committee]-

Ultimate Psychologist has been placed to be in charge of Kamukura Izuru's recovery process.

If he wakes during the procedure at any time, increase anesthetic dose and forcibly put him back down.

-Ѱ-

Hinata wakes during surgery, screaming and thrashing for you or his mom. The committee questions why you, but you just brush it off as transference. He wouldn't feel anything after waking up without any ability to feel emotion. You watch outside through the glass, nothing through your mind. Wrong. You feel disgusting. You've just taken a human life in the name of science and created a whole new person. It feels disgusting. It fills you with nothing but the urge to kill.

Matsuda doesn't seem to be too phased. He was the one who was put in charge of all of this anyways. It doesn't matter if either of you knew. Neither of you could've prevented this. It's disgusting. Your eyes are emotionless as you watch, the first time your emotions aren't written on your sleeve. Would Hinata- no. Would Kamukura even remember you after this? It didn't matter. You were never supposed to develop emotions for the boy, and neither was he. You're forced to be in charge of this whole situation as the only one with some sort of power left.

"Teach me neurosurgery." You stare up at Matsuda, eyes hard. He's never seen you so serious before.

"I can't," He stares at you. "You know this."

You stare up at him one last time before you hear the sound of the pod opening.

Izuru Kamukura is bored. His eyes are a piercing red, one that seems like it would kill without reason. The ends of his hair brush the floor, and instead of the brown you'd grown used to, it's a deathly black. Other than that, he's still the same. No. He isn't. When his eyes meet yours through the glass, you can read everything that you had grown used to. He was bored. He was bored. He was bored of existing already.

Unlike the Steering Committee, you have no way out of the building. All the old guards you had grown close to are replaced with new ones. You assume they killed the old ones off. The smell of blood and sanitizer lurks in the air as you open the door to Kamukura's room. You scan your eye, and the door unlocks with a click. You meet eyes with the boy.

"...general things today. We're here to check all of the talents I've once taught you. Tomorrow, we start on the new talents we gave you through surgery." You exhale through your nose, eyes weary with dread.

"Do you pity me?"

"No," You slide him an intelligence test. "I don't pity you, I feel disgust at myself. I taught you this, Kamukura-senpai. I thought you'd be better at reading by now. Why are you flawed?"

"I'm not," He fills in the paper as he talks to you. "You showed no sign of disgust."

"Talk to me in french," You sit on the seat on the other side of the table.

"Non." he stares at you, soulless. "Je veux pas." No. I don't want to.

"Ne me dites pas non. Il faut que je vérifie vos connaissances linguistiques." You write down on the notes. "Une autre langue?" Don't tell me no. I have to check your languages. Another language?

"¿y por qué debería hacerlo?" He continues filling out the test. and why should I?

"Ya te lo dije." You check the box next to Spanish. "中文." I told you. Chinese.

"然后呢？你是除了什么问题吗？我直接把其他的语言给你讲了吧." Kamukura's voice is smooth with each language. And then? Is there a problem? I'll just cover the rest of the languages for you.

He shows no sign of linguistic determinism, his voice tone the same throughout all of the languages. You nearly envy it. It doesn't matter. The way that he talks in each language is then verified with the device. All linguistics look good. You wish you could speak that many languages.

"I'll leave you some white paper."

"It'll bore me."

"Unless you want to sit in the room with nothing to do?" You stare at him. Kamukura takes it reluctantly, his gaze lingering on you as you wipe off your lip balm. You replace it with a red.

"You're going to sleep with one of the Committee members again." You can hear something akin to disgust in his voice. You're surprised. You thought his emotions were completely wiped.

"That's cute," You stare at him. "I'm sure you know the reason as well, then."

He doesn't. Yet, something in him feels guilt.

-Ѱ-

Information collected:

General reasoning: Exceptional

Intelligence quotient: Exceptional

Emotional quotient: None

Brain scans: Exceptional

Talents Checked: Linguistics, Languages, IQ.

Doctor's note:

Emotions are gone. No more neurosurgery is necessary.

Signed, Ultimate Psychologist

-[Steering Committee]-

Ultimate Psychologist's room has been merged with Subject I333K

No cameras in the room are necessary.

Signed, Steering Committee

-[Observations from Patient's work]-

First stack of paper

- encompassed the entire Japanese dictionary.

Second stack of paper:

- art (drawn with lipstick) of sketches of a woman sucking a man off. There appears to be a significant age gap, and it objectifies the man.

There consists of seven different sheets of this.

The first one is a woman applying lipstick.

The second is the woman tying her hair back.

The third through sixth are sketches of a woman sucking a man off from different angles.

The final one is an image of a woman holding a key in her hand.

Additional notes:

The woman bears a strange resemblance to the Ultimate Psychologist.

-Ѱ-

Izuru stares at you, trying to read the emotions on your face.

"Musical talent," You exhale. "Music room. Let's go."

The music room is the few rooms that you didn't have to sleep with someone to get. The stains of your lipstick are still prominent on your bottom lip and chin, yet you don't seem to notice it. You scan your eye to enter the music room, and you're mildly surprised at the interior.

Kamukura reaches for your chin, grabbing it gently, eyes still emotionless.

He wipes the lipstick from your chin.

You sense no emotion from him, so you don't give him anything in response.

"Thank you." You hum. "Shall we start with piano and work our way around?"

"Every single instrument?"

"The program is funded way more than what you think," You unfold a chair on the side, and you watch Kamukura open the piano. The sound of music floats through the air, soothing you to some degree. He sounds like a computer-generated piece. You suppose that was the perfection that the Steering Committee wanted while they created him. His music lacks emotion. You aren't in the position to nitpick at him, but it's kind of dull.

"Stop." You call after he finishes with the violin. "I won't blame you, but you lack emotion for any of the ultimate musicians. Harp."

Kamukura sits with the harp between his legs, and he plays. He still sounds generated. He sounds like a computer. You don't sense an ounce of emotion behind it. It disgusts you. The idea of wiping out a person's emotions until the chemicals they feel are nothing more than a bother to them. Everything is predictable in the eyes of a god. Is that what he was? Then surely you'd be punished for trying to do so.

"That's enough." You sigh. "You can dance as well, yes?"

He nods. "You look agitated."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious." You grumble. "They took away your ability to feel emotion so your ability to play sounds like it's a computer generated piece. I suppose that's what they wanted you to be. Something akin to a computer. Dance for me."

"With what music?"

You pry the piano open, and you stretch your fingers. "Random notes."

They aren't, in fact, random notes. Kamukura hears a whole melody behind it, yet he encapsulates the dance perfectly. You force him to swap from jazz to ballet. From ballet to tap dancing, and then from tap to modern. You force him to dance over and over again, changing styles with each measure. Kamukura is a perfect dancer. He moves elegantly and all lively. He looks pretty like that. You stop playing, and he stops to stare at you.

"No sweating?" You close the piano, and you press your fingers to his forehead.

He doesn't flinch, yet he raises a brow at you.

"I know," You hum. "Woe is you, who must listen and read the entire world."

"Why do you do this?"

"Because I have no choice? Because I didn't read the fine print on the papers?" You shrug. "because humans are flawed."

"How expected."

"Mhm," You shrug. "Let's get back."

"You will be staying with me starting today, correct?"

"Yes." You hum. "Anything you request can be granted. I hold the keys to each room in this building. Including the room to the Steering Committee."

"You slept with them that many times," It's more of a statement than a question. "How expected."

"How else do you think this entire floor has been renovated into a house of my own?" You shrug. "Sometimes your mouth is more useful than words."

"Sometimes?" He stares at you, eyes digging into yours. "It seems that you can't convince them with words alone."

"Ah, how surprising," You shrug. "You should know, right? Survival tactics are different for everyone. I wonder if they moved my bed into your room yet."

"Aren't they just going to knock the wall down?"

"You're like a child," You stare at Kamukura. "A young child that can think of every possible answer, yet can't. Can you see ghosts?"

"They don't exist."

"How disappointing." You mumble. "Say, help me out with my makeup later, will you? I have something else I need in the room."

-Ѱ-

Information collected:

General reasoning: Exceptional

Intelligence quotient: Exceptional

Emotional quotient: None

Brain scans: Exceptional

Talents Checked: Music, Makeup

Doctor's note:

{Blank}

Signed, Ultimate Psychologist

-[Steering Committee]-

{Blank}

Signed, Steering Committee

-[Observations from Patient's work]-

No papers were left behind, though the Ultimate Psychologist left him four different puzzles. He solved them within the 10 minutes that she first left. He then solved it without manual instructions in a way that we weren't able to determine.

-Ѱ-

Kamukura stares at the machinery you have Matsuda help bring into the room. His eyes dig into yours, and you stare back at him. You have a new shade of lipstick on. None of you say anything as Matsuda plugs all of the strings and stickers onto his skin. They don't bother him anymore. He knows why you're doing this. He knows what your motive is. Yet, as you stare at him, eyes void of anything he can read, he falters. When has the created ever outsmarted the creator? Though, he knows what eyes those are.

"You're going to suck me off."

You spin the keys on your finger, and you grin at him. He seems to laugh at you in his own way. In the bland, expected, boring way that he always does. His eyes are anything but amused. The other doctors have begun to enter the room in the intervals that you're in class, and he's being taught that talentless people are useless. He wonders what you have to say about it. Though, something in the back of his mind tells him he already knows.

Matsuda checks the machine before nodding at you. The neuroscientist had stopped his visits altogether after you wrote the first note. He was no longer needed, and he was just another pawn on the board that the Steering Committee held. Your lips quirk up in amusement as Matsuda leaves the room, and you finally speak up.

"No. I don't think people without talent are useless," You chuckle as you open up your notes. "I think you already know that."

Kamukura answers you with silence. The same, disgusting silence that you've grown used to. The two of you sit in silence for a while, and then you let out a laugh that Kamukura has been wired to think is unhinged. Your lips are a deathly shade of crimson. They match his eyes. For a moment, Kamukura thinks you're going to do exactly as he predicted. Yet, as your laugh turns into a cracked smile, he's intrigued.

"You've seen all the possibilities," You smile. "What do you think about a little entertainment?"

"Of?"

"A killing game," You shrug. "A school shooting? A mass protest? A loss of identity? Or... a guessing game? Who am I going to kill with a cookie tonight?"

Kamukura stares at your lips.

"Wanna kiss me? This is the same shade as the strawberry blonde chick that visited you the other day. I stole her lipstick from her room while visiting with Matsuda. She probably knows this by now."

"You look much better in it than her."

"How flattering."

Kamukura should have grown to know that his creator would have been anything but human in any way. Yet, as you bite down on a cookie from the batch, he's playing with probability. There's a chance it could be anyone. It wouldn't be surprising if it were any of the guards. Perhaps you would kill someone you didn't get along with. You just snort as you click on a handful of buttons on the machine connected to him.

"We'll find out later," You step up to him, fingers loosening his tie. "Tea?"

Kamukura knows every reference in the book, yet as you stare at him with a slimmer of compassion, he finds himself nodding unconsciously. "It doesn't matter." His eyes tell you something else.

"Just to measure brain activity." You unbuckle his belt, fingers working nimbly. You stare at the device. "Wow, not an ounce of a reaction... I'm sure you'll see if there's a reason behind why I always get my way with the old men."

As your lips press onto his, he doesn't once make a move to push you off. He wonders if you're checking all his sexual talents today. You never mentioned what you were checking. In a way, he thinks that you're here to check if he's human, perhaps. Lust was one of the oldest temptations in the world. Zeus lusted after nearly everything. The sweet taste of the fruit on Eve's lips was no less than lust. The siren's songs, the cheap women on the streets. Everyone fell into that desire at some point in their life. Maybe this was your way of checking if he was human.

"Mm," You stare at the hickey you left on his collar, and then at his heart rate. "Good to see they didn't fuck up your heart. Let's see if you run out of breath from these lips you seem to despise so much, hm?"

Throughout the entire scan, there aren't any abnormalities. You're pretty sure that it's concerning in a way, yet as you wipe your lipstick off with the makeup remover, you're proved wrong. The scans don't show improved brain activity, but the chemicals released are all those related to pleasure. Kamukura pants, chest heaving. His lips are parted in order to catch his breath, and the bed is a mess of bodily fluids under him, mostly his. If anything, you've remained dry throughout the entire session. Kamukura's mind is a little hazed, his patient robe loose around his body now.

"Nice tits." You laugh at the paper in your hand, eyeing Kamukura.

He stares at you without moving his head, eyes slanted with no surprise.

"A shame, really," You shrug. "Have they started making you work out?"

"No." He stares at you. "Are you going to put on velvet again?"

"Hm? Yeah," You grab the lipstick from the basket, and you press the baby pink onto your lips. "You want to work out, no?"

"I do."

"Then I'll get what we need." You use your pinky to check if it stains, and you smile when it doesn't.

"Anything else?"

He stares at you. "What were the results of my test?"

"I'm sure you know."

Kamukura's eyes are filled with disgust as you walk out again.

-Ѱ-

Information collected:

Brain scan: Exceptional

Talents Checked: NSFW

Doctor's note:

He's a good fuck. Perfect one, actually. Quite a shame that none of you are gay.

Signed, Ultimate Psychologist

-[Steering Committee]-

A gym will be built in room 17 at the end of the hall across from the music room. Once finished, Ultimate Psychologist is to go there to check the Ultimate Hope's talents.

It would be a shame if any of us struck that way. A show has been requested for the next request.

Signed, Steering Committee

-[Observations from Patient's work]-

Noticed activity in the TVA region in Ultimate Hope's brain around Ultimate Psychologist. Though not harmful, it is advised to keep the chain tighter.

Noticed release of vasopressin and oxytocin in patient's brain region when engaging in sexual activity.

Signed, Ultimate Neurologist

-Ѱ-

"It's good you can show disgust now," You hum. "How were the other doctors?"

Kamukura stares at you, eyes void. "You let them in."

"I didn't," You tap the clipboard with your pen. "I didn't know."

You didn't. Kamukura blames you because of the notes you wrote the committee. Yet, you had no clue they would do that. At least you got him the pass to enter the gym as he willed. It's disgusting, being used. He feels nothing as they abuse him with their power, yet the fact that he was being used by someone other than you struck him the wrong way. His eyes meet yours, and you smile at him. Your lips are colorless today.

"Not sleeping with anyone today?"

You laugh. "No. I'm sleeping with someone who hates lipstick."

"Matsuda."

You imitate the sound of bells, and you smile at him.

"You're giving me that lie again." He taps the table. "You just finished sleeping with one of the men. I believe it was the tall one."

"Oh? No. You got that one wrong," You hum. "My lips are colorless because I lost the shade I was supposed to wear. I should be hearing about it anyyy minute now."

The clock strikes twelve.

"ULTIMATE?! ARE YOU IN THERE? A COMMITTEE MEMBER HAS FALLEN ILL!" One of the guards bangs on the door, and you stare at Kamukura for a brief moment before opening the door.

"What happened?" You punch the code to the door in frantically, and he pants. "Doctor says he died."

"Oh," Your eyes are wide with genuine shock. "Which one?"

As his name rolls off the guard's lips, your lip quivers. Your heart shatters in a way. Kamukura watches genuine emotion roll out of you in waves. He watches as horror floods through your body at the name, and how you rush out of the room after the guards frantically. He isn't allowed to follow you, yet you drag him along anyway. Your excuse was that he could predict everything; surely he could catch the killer of the case. As the four of you make it to the door, Matsuda shakes his head. He's gone.

He meets eyes with Kamukura. Neither of them says anything.

You're allowed out to attend his funeral. You put on quite the show for everyone. Kamukura watches your face lace with genuine grief. You're not lying in any way; none of your microexpressions give you away. The only two aware of the whole situation stay quiet. You aren't sure why Kamukura doesn't sell you out and accuses another member of the Steering Committee instead, but you go along with it. You're pretty sure he's going to ask for something in exchange.

The member is dragged off, yelling, screaming, thrashing against the guards. You beg the guards that it couldn't have been him. He was so kind to you. He did everything that was instructed of him! Your tears convince the guards to let you talk to him in hopes of lightening his sentence. You sit in the cell with him, Kamukura behind you like a dog standing guard. You stop the crying with the sound of footsteps fading, and you stare at him.

"Get me out of here, darling! You know I would never kill any of them!" His voice is frantic, genuine fear flooding through his body. He trusts you a lot. Your faux sympathy seeps into his skin, causing it to crawl. You were a strange one.

"But you were found at the scene!" You wipe your tears, lips pulled into an awful sob. "But it has to be a mistake. Surely?"

"Yes! Oh, darling, only you believe me now..." His voice is filled with affection for you.

"So? Was it adequate?" Your lips are the color that he adores. They look poisonous today. Your lips are quirked into a gentle smirk, and you lower your voice. The velvet on your lips looks duller under the prison light, and his eyes widen in realization. You hum, a soft smile on your face. "Was it adequate? Did it feel good? When you killed a member of the committee with your own hands?"

"Darling, you told me that he hated me!"

"I did no such thing!" Your voice wavers, and instead of reading a lie, they would read it as genuine pain. "How could you accuse me of that! You were the one who told me that you felt like he was suspecting you, so I went to ask him! You're the one who bugged me!"

Everything matches up to the false reality Kamukura created for this scenario. You cry tears, and Kamukura knocks at the door twice. The guard comes in and escorts you out, and your shoulders shake from the weight of your tears. The velvet on your lips seems to be lighter, and you barely have the energy to do anything. The next morning, he's found dead in his cell.

The weight of everything hits you hard. The velvet red is ditched in the trash; As you reach your room with Kamukura, your eyes meet his.

"Was that fun?"

"It was predictable."

"No," You shake your head. "Not the trial or acting. Was seeing the tabloid fun?"

Kamukura stares at the newspaper sticking out from your purse. You unbutton the coat, and you get changed as he reads. The paper has his face plastered on it and then a simple testimony and transcript from the male's last moments before death. Kamukura doesn't read it with a trace of surprise, yet he blinks at the name of the writer.

Kamukura Izuru, the dead principal.

He looks up at your half-naked figure, and he stares. His eyes don't move, and he takes in every inch of your skin. You don't mind the staring, having grown used to it. It was like he couldn't seem to learn about you no matter how hard he tried. The independent variable that changed and spun at will. He wonders when you had clasped that chain around his neck so gently. Perhaps you had it on him ever since he met eyes with you after surgery. Kamukura finds no will to break free. You provided more entertainment than whatever the pink-haired girl had promised him.

"Who's next?"

"Guess," Your lips have a pretty rose on them.

Out of the four men, the only two left are the weak-willed ones.

Eventually, the rose-red is thrown into the trash. The committee member hung himself. His suicide note was perfectly written, perfectly in his style. No one questions the reason for his death. Again, you're crying when you hear the news. Kamukura makes a perfect alibi. No one questions him, and if they do, he forcibly represses that memory. No one questions either of you. Kamukura is programmed to be honest with the committee members.

With the last man in the room, he sighs as you step into the room.

"Honey."

"Are you okay?" You sit in his lap, hand on his chest, drawing slow circles. "Their deaths... must've taken a toll on you."

"At least I have you left," He sighs. "I just..."

"Of course..." You mumble sadly. "You're the one who scribbled out the note that you wanted a show, right?"

He pauses as he spots the blood-red eyes in the dark.

"How about a show for him?" The old man stares at the way Kamukura's eyes are sharp with disgust at him.

As he finishes the sentence, the man grabs you. His lips are on yours, and you can taste the metal on his tongue. You hear the sound of a few people dropping to the ground with a thud, and you pull the knife from your leg, hooking your arms around his neck. The knife is pressed to his neck, the satisfying sound of a crunch echoing through the room as the last man drops dead. Your mouth tastes disgusting.

You reach your fingers into your mouth, stained with his blood, in hopes of getting rid of his taste. You're repulsed. It tastes just like him.

Kamukura stares at you from across the room, and you stare at him.

"Help me out?" You give him doe eyes, and he complies.

He steps closer to you, and he traces your bottom lip with his thumb, removing the lipstick. He takes off the glove, and he slides two fingers into your mouth to collect the saliva and shake it off of him. Wiping it off with his hand, you taste the flavor on your tongue. It's gone.

"Thank you." You step off of the corpse, half of your pretty dress ruined by the blood. His eyes stare at the color the white has been stained to, and you stare at the guards outside. Your lips are quirked into a stunning smile, and you wave at them. Kamukura has an urge to press his lips to yours, but stops himself before any more thoughts can occur.

"How about a prize?" You hum, tugging on the tie of his suit. He complies, realizing that you saw right through him. Your lips are his shade of crimson instead of the wine red that you usually used with the dead man. He had wiped off your lipstick before, yet you still had time to put on the crimson. He presses his lips to yours, eyes staying open. Yours close, fingers playing with his hair. He likes this. Is that what the emotion was? He likes it.

You're in charge now.

The first thing you do is make the atrocity public. Every detail about your life is hidden from the public eye, and Kamukura stares at the way people avoid him in the halls. His lips are pulled into the thin line that is expected of him; you find him predictable at this rate.

"You'll be joining 77b." You hum. "I'm in class 78."

He stares at you. "77b."

"Yeah, your class," You hum, looking at the paperwork.

"No." He stares at you. "How brainless must you be? You are to join class 77b with me."

"Oh, I don't decide that," You shrug. "Talk to the principal."

"You underestimate me," He hands you your student ID, and you blink at the sight of you being moved up an entire grade. You wonder if Kamukura blackmailed the principal again. Yet, as he stares at you with something akin to interest, you scoff. Maybe it would be funny.

"How much longer until I bore you?"

He doesn't answer.

"I hope you stay interested in me for the rest of my life, because I've already grown bored of you." Your lips are pulled in the same smile that Kamukura had seen that day. It's grown enticing. It's like an invitation that he knows the ending to. He no longer minds the predictability of you. He takes the broken hand you hold out to him. He flies closer and closer to the sun as Icarus had, knowing that his wings were bound to burn out on him at some point. He doesn't care. If his wings were to burn out while grasping onto you, he would.

"It feels weird not having something between my lips now," Your fingers work on the crochet project, and he finishes the other side casually. His eyes meet yours, and you laugh. "I'm kidding. Sort of. It feels weird not sleeping with someone to make sure I have basic survival necessities."

"They made you?" He raises a brow. The few things he could never read was your relationship with the men. It was strange. It was like a part of his brain refused to believe that you were capable of it. You were, and strangely enough, you are.

"I lied!" You beam. "I was the one who waltzed into the room. They were just prey."

"Excuse me?"

You smile. "Exactly what you think."

Kamukura is a dog. He knows his place, almost. It's like he knows he has a chain around his neck and belongs to the supposed Ultimate Psychologist. He wonders if you had more than just a single talent. It would make sense. Or it was a survival tactic you had learned. He follows behind you around school, eyes hard and cold to anyone who wanted to approach you. You stick around your classmates, yet the clouds of a storm form around you. Kamukura can feel it coming.

It comes in the form of a new lip balm.

"Strawberry."

"It'll be gone within a week," You pull gently on his tie, and he follows after you.

True to your word, the girl is dead by the end of the week. You stare down at the strawberry blonde and her sister in a pool of blood. The strawberry lip balm tastes sweet against Izuru's lips as you kiss him as a reward. He likes prizes from you. You spoil him to bits and pieces. The way your lips seem to be some sort of drug to him; he doesn't know why. He's enamored with you. Oh, if he could hold on to you forever. He wonders why he has such thoughts.

"Your TVA has been active lately," You hum, pressing your fingers into your cheek as you look at the test results. "How surprising."

Kamukura is quiet as he draws on the paper. It bores him the same way everything else does, yet he draws your pretty face while kissing him. The sight of you pressed close to him provides him with some sort of emotion. He doesn't know what he feels for you, yet it works, he supposes. The lip balm isn't as prominent as the cherry red from last time, yet it's still visibly you and him.

"Do I get a kiss each time I kill someone?"

"No," You continue working on the project in your hand. "You can get a kiss whenever you want. Don't you know? Or is your frontal cortex not working because of the vast amount of oxytocin and vassopressin being released? I can't believe they neutralized your amygdala only for you to fall in love and still produce the two love chemicals."

"Is that so," He takes a step toward you.

"Yeah," You kick one leg over the other, and you stare up at him. His eyes drop to your cleavage, and then an exhale.

"I could do many things to you."

"I know," You smirk. "Yet you don't."

"If I do something worth it, may I have my way with you?"

He's polite. "Sure."

The two of you go about your school lives with relative ease. While everything bores Kamukura to no end, you find it cute. The two of you attend class, scribbling notes to each other and playing games with Chiaki. You always end up in last place. The other true stuck hard to their talents, yet you have a little fun with Komaeda, providing treatment to him. Kamukura sits down and lets Ibuki do his hair as you help out your classmates.

"It's boring,"

"Yeah, but you find beauty in the boring things, no?" You smile at him. "If it bores you that much, then find something to do?"

"Lipstick."

"Ah, I can't throw any away yet," You sigh. "Shall we buy one for you to use?"

"No," He brushes his thumb along your bottom lip and wipes it onto the paper. "I'll just use you."

"How cute," You mumble. "You still have scenes to draw?"

"No," He stares at you. "Shall you help me out?"

Kamukura is mean.

He's mean not because of what he says to you. You can take what he says to you. You amuse him with your mindless banter. Your tongue is just as sharp as his, yet he argues back with you for some sort of amusement. You've got a pretty crimson collar on him, yet he pulls on the black one clasped around your neck only during times like this. Even if it means it's predictable.

No. Kamukura is mean because he likes having his way with you.

He likes pressing your mascara-stained cheeks into the mattress as he rams into you. He likes the way your moans are muffled from the plush of the pillow. He likes seeing you look a tear-stained mess under him. He likes the way you whine and complain about how he's too much. It's the few things he enjoys. It sends a rush through his body that he feels few times in life. And the best part is, no matter how many times he does it, it doesn't get boring.

"'s too much," You whine as he forces his cock into you again.

"Too bad," He mumbles, forcing you to arch by pulling your collar. Your face is a mess. Drool trickles past your crimson lips, and your cheeks are stained black. You look like a mess, but a pretty one. "You like this."

You recall the few times that you had actually let him have his way with you. The first time, he had taken it easy since it was just for examination. He had passed, and you were thankfully conscious enough to complete the form. The second time, it was when you had let him entertain himself for a bit after the death of the Steering Committee. He had found out you look exceptionally good with tear-stained cheeks. The third, it was an impulse for you. He had let you pull on his collar, yet it didn't bore him. You were strange.

"I- hah," You moan. "Don't."

"Keep telling yourself that," His eyes stay half-lidded as he presses your face into the mattress. "You were begging for more earlier. I gave you what you want, so why are you whining about too much now?"

"N-no," You hiss as his fingers dig into your waist. "I said-" You help as he lets go of the collar, forcing you to fall onto the mattress. His hand forces you into the bed, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room. You want to argue that it was his idea to test your limits, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence anymore. Mindless babbles slip past your lips. You're hazy with lust instead. You don't seem to fight him as much as before.

Kamukura likes this twist on power. Usually, it was you who had him on a leash and forced him to obey. He likes the image of black running down your cheeks and red smeared across your lips. He hooks an arm under your stomach, forcing you back up. He stares at you in the mirror. He gets a kick out of the way you look messed up from his antics. You're pretty. Incredibly so. And as he starts pressing back into you, and a whine slips past your lips, he thinks you sound good as well.

Perhaps this was why the men had been so reluctant to let you go. Too bad you're his now.

He feels you clench around him and whine, and he exhales. "Cum."

You gasp and claw the sheets as you finally get to cum. The whine that slips past your lips triggers something primal in Kamukura as he finishes inside of you. You mumble a weak complaint about the action, but you relax as soon as you remember he's got every single talent. Your eyes are hazy from the sex, panting as you come down from the high. Kamukura is sure to make sure you're taken care of.

"How many sheets of paper will that last you?"

"At least two stacks," He wipes you down, and you sigh.

"Better than last time."

"I'll tell Yukizome-sensei that you'll be out tomorrow," His voice is surprisingly gentle.

"What happened to your boredom?"

"I had fun." He pauses to stare at you.

"Well," He helps you sit up. "Good to know you aren't lying..."

The silence overtakes the two of you. A million thoughts plague your mind, and you close your eyes. You don't want to say it. His red eyes would just dig into yours without emotion again, his body language giving nothing away. No matter how entertaining he found you, he would never be able to stay amused for long. You cover your eyes with your forearm in hopes that maybe the thoughts would be taken away. They aren't.

"Say it." Kamukura mumbles.

"You'll grow bored of me one day."

"I won't," He mumbles, nestling his chin in the crook of your neck.

"How do you know?"

"The created never leaves the creator," You feel his lashes flutter against your skin. "Just as the devil never left god, or how your sins never leave your body. How humans gravitate back to their soulmates regardless. I'm not good with words of comfort. I... apologize."

"Don't," You close your eyes, lips tugging into a smile. "You don't lie to me."

"I don't," He affirms.

"That's enough for me." You smile. "If my heart is to burn in your hands, then I would be satisfied. Even if there is no entertainment left for you in this world, I would hope that my death would do something for you."

"No." He mumbles. "Because in the end, both you and I are humans."

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