The Painter's Blood

Judgement Reversed

He'd never felt so disconnected to the people around him.

The most tangible wisps of his dream still clung to his mind, like an ominous rolling fog.
He recalled the kiss most of all, but Genos had been unable to shake the persistent self doubt that had suddenly taken refuge within him; couldn't banish the thought of the Count thinking of him as disposable.

The thought that he was not a human had never bothered him as much as it did now.

Every mean word ever said to him- every stone tossed his way, and every disgusted stare he'd ever received- rolled off of him like water off a duck's back. But that voice from his dream...

Those words lingered, heavy and corrosive.

His rapidly spiraling train of thought was derailed as the door opened, the Doctor stepping in followed quickly by the Count. Genos was about to move to the edge of the bed to stand, but was hastily told to stay where he was.

"How are you feeling? Do you remember your name?" The Doctor asked. Genos had seen this type of checkup before, in the time they'd spent traveling from place to place. It was a quick way to tell if a human had sustained head trauma, if he remembered correctly.

"I am feeling..." He glanced down to the bindings across his torso, furrowing his brows slightly. "Confused. I don't remember how I got here. I remember my name, and know where I am generally."

The Doctor nodded, humming briefly at Genos' foresight in answering his next question before he could ask. "Good. Does anything feel-"

"Genos?!"

Mumen strode through the door, eyes wide. "I was worried you'd died! Are you hurting? Is there anything I can do?"

The Doctor cleared his throat, and Mumen finally realised that he was most certainly interrupting.

"Ah. My apologies." The stable hand said, taking a step back and bowing slightly.

"Alright. As I was saying." The Doctor began again. Genos answered his questions, expressing his concerns at being able to move around properly with bandages across the majority of his midsection.

The Count looked up from where he was pacing at the foot of the bed, a frown on his face. "You'll be staying in bed until there's no chance you'll break down again."

"But... Why? Am I not fixed?" Genos asked.

"You need rest." The Doctor and Saitama said simultaneously. Genos didn't catch the glare the Doctor cast Saitama's way.

"I don't. I feel fine. I have been in this bed long enough, and need to get back to work." Genos insisted.
"Absolutely not." The Doctor said in return.

Genos crossed his arms, leaning back against the headboard. He was about to protest when the Count spoke up once more.

"Think of this as an opportunity to really feel your assignment. This could be a great way to get the duplicate to mimic my behaviour." He pointed out.

And it was a very good point.

"I'll still need to study your face. And then the neck and shoulders." Genos said, and the Count nodded shortly.
"Of course. I can come by every once in a while, and you can get your practice in like usual."

Genos smiled widely, relieved at Saitama's suggestion. Behind his sunny facade, his thoughts wavered.

'If you don't function, you have no purpose. Keep working. No one wants a broken toy.'

//566