Saiko awoke before dawn, as usual. His muscles ached from the night before, where the doctor's hands had gripped him tighter than ever, but this morning, it almost felt like a badge of honor. Each bruise whispered to him, you did well to earn this.
He quickly finished his duties—cleaning the equipment, organizing supplies, even lining up the doctor's files alphabetically as he liked them. Everything was in perfect order, each task completed with his best effort, hoping today he would make the doctor proud.
When the doctor entered, Saiko noticed something different about him. His face, usually cold and focused, seemed thoughtful, almost distracted. There were faint circles under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept well. He didn't greet Saiko or even acknowledge his diligent work. Instead, he leaned against the counter, staring at the floor, lost in his thoughts.
"Doctor?" Saiko said, his voice small. "Saiko did... all the duties. Made things all... clean and nice. Like you like."
The doctor looked up, his gaze settling on Saiko with an intensity that made him freeze in place. There was something unreadable in his expression—disappointment, perhaps, but also something softer, something... almost regretful.
"Why do you try so hard, Saiko?" he asked finally, his voice quieter than Saiko had ever heard it. "What are you hoping for?"
The question sent a ripple of confusion through Saiko's mind. He tilted his head, not understanding. "For you, Doctor... Saiko want to be good, want you happy. Like... like family?"
A bitter chuckle escaped the doctor. He crossed the room, his hand reaching out, but this time he didn't hit or pull Saiko's hair. Instead, he placed his hand on Saiko's shoulder, almost gently, though his grip tightened in a way that bordered on pain.
"Family, you say?" he murmured, a distant look in his eyes. "Saiko, you were created for a purpose. And love, family—those aren't part of it. You're not meant to feel like this." His voice hardened, though his fingers lingered on Saiko's shoulder, as if struggling to let go. "All these emotions, all this... sentiment. It's a weakness."
Saiko blinked, not knowing how to respond. He thought he could hear something in the doctor's voice—a strange sadness mixed with frustration. He wanted to reach out, to comfort him somehow, but the doctor's expression had grown closed-off, guarded. "But... Saiko's here to help, to be good... to fixy-fixy..." he stammered, hoping his words could somehow explain his worth.
The doctor's hand tightened, making Saiko wince slightly. "Help? Yes, you're supposed to help." He looked away, almost ashamed, his grip loosening. "But you're too soft, Saiko. Too... human. I tried to remove those parts, to make you stronger. And yet..." His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "Yet, you're just a failed experiment. A fool's mistake."
The words stung, but Saiko focused on the warmth of the doctor's hand that hadn't yet left his shoulder. Maybe, he thought, maybe the doctor's sad because Saiko isn't perfect yet. Maybe... he's trying to teach me to be strong.
He ventured a shy smile, his single eye softening with hope. "Saiko can try harder. Can... be better. Can make you happy."
For a moment, the doctor looked at him, truly looked at him, and there was a flicker of something—regret, sorrow, maybe even a faint touch of affection. But it was fleeting. He pulled his hand back, his expression hardening again as if a switch had flipped.
"Don't waste your time trying to make me happy, Saiko," he said coldly. "Just do what you're told." He turned away, picking up his clipboard with a renewed air of detachment, his posture rigid. "Today, you'll be preparing the medicine trays for each patient. Get it wrong, and I'll make sure you remember it."
