The laboratory was cold and sterile, illuminated by the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. Test tubes and beakers lined the steel tables, filled with strange, colorful liquids, each containing a fragment of an impossible dream. This dream had consumed Dr. Shuu Iwamine for years, driven him to the brink of obsession, leaving little else but his relentless pursuit of perfection.
Finally, after countless failed experiments, the doctor stood before his latest creation. A single, enormous eye, barely visible beneath closed lids, sat in the center of a pale, delicate face. Short black hair framed the face, tousled and soft, almost fragile. A white nurse's uniform hung loosely on the gangly, tall figure, as if even clothing had not been fully prepared for this moment. Saiko Cyclops took his first breath, a shaky, uncertain intake of air that echoed around the silent laboratory.
"Wake up," Dr. Shuu hissed, his eyes alight with a twisted excitement. He leaned closer, his lips curling into a sickly smile. "Open those big eyes, my little cute experiment. Let me see if you're worth all the trouble."
The cyclops stirred, his single eye slowly fluttering open to reveal a gleam of innocent wonder. Saiko blinked, focusing on the face before him with the curiosity of a newborn. His gaze was wide, untainted by the weight of the world, unaware of the cruelty awaiting him. But his lips quivered, his voice emerging in uncertain, fractured gibberish.
"Squibble... squabble... wibby wobble?" Saiko mumbled, his words soft and confused, searching for meaning. His eye darted around, taking in the room, the man before him, everything with awe.
Dr. Shuu's expression shifted in an instant. The excitement faded, replaced by a cold, sneering disappointment. "So this is what I've created?" he muttered, reaching out to grab Saiko's face roughly, his fingers pressing into his skin. "A worthless, babbling mess?"
Saiko squirmed under the doctor's harsh grip, his eye filling with a spark of fear. "P-please... w-wobble squabble no hurt..." he stammered, his words still tangled in nonsensical sounds, desperate to appease this man who loomed over him. He couldn't understand the anger in the doctor's gaze, only the sting of his grip and the sadness seeping into his own heart.
But Dr. Shuu wasn't satisfied. His other hand reached up, tugging sharply at Saiko's black hair, pulling his head back, forcing him to meet the doctor's gaze. "Look at you," he sneered. "I spent years... years perfecting every detail, dreaming of creating something magnificent, and this is all you can manage? Gibberish and a blank, pathetic expression?"
"Saiko... Saiko try," the newborn mumbled, tears beginning to gather in the corners of his large eye. He didn't know what "try" meant, but it felt important, something he should do to make the man happy.
"Try?" The doctor scoffed, his laughter cold and mocking. He gave Saiko's face another harsh poke, pressing his thumb into the corner of his eye, as if trying to push away the tears. "You're a disappointment. A failure. But..." He sighed, his lips curling into a thin, cruel smile. "Even failures have their uses."
He released Saiko's face and took a step back, inspecting him with a calculating glare. "You'll be my assistant. You'll help me with patients, clean up my messes... and maybe, just maybe, you won't be entirely useless."
A fragile sense of relief washed over Saiko, the smallest glimmer of purpose finding its way into his heart. Even as the doctor's cruel words lingered, even as his single eye stung with the memory of pain, he clung to the idea that he could be useful, that he had a purpose.
"Saiko... help," he whispered, his voice trembling but determined. His hand drifted to his nurse's apron, clutching it tightly as if the thin fabric could protect him from the harshness around him.
"Don't get any ideas," Dr. Shuu sneered, eyeing the cyclops with disdain. "You're nothing special, just a tool for my convenience." His gaze lingered on Saiko, an unspoken threat hanging in the air. "And remember, any more mistakes, any sign of failure... and you'll suffer for it."
Saiko nodded, his body trembling as he absorbed the words, their weight sinking deep into his heart. He didn't know what "failure" meant, only that it was something terrible, something he had to avoid at all costs. He gave a hopeful, shaky smile, a gesture so small, so filled with innocent hope that it almost seemed pitiful.
"Thank you... Doctor..." Saiko whispered, clinging to the fragile promise that he could somehow be enough.
But Dr. Shuu merely turned away, leaving Saiko standing there, alone in the cold, sterile room. The cyclops stood, his single eye watching the doctor's back, yearning for even the slightest hint of approval.
