He once questioned humanity. In an educational setting- in a literature class, long, long before the general center of unproductivity known as Ashford Academy.
"What makes us human?"
The teacher, considered an eccentric by many, often liked to turn the class to more philosophical activities, regardless of curriculum requirements. The only reason he still taught was because of the unanimous vote of his students; he never failed a single one no matter how badly they did in his class.
But Kururugi Suzaku felt he might be the first. Quite frankly, he was stumped. He'd never been too good in literature, Japanese or Britannian, and as any other fifteen-year-old boy would be quick to tell you, that was normal. But he'd also raised his hand, a good student to the last, and attempted to answer when no one else did.
This memory conveniently began pestering him around this time, three to four years later, instead of fading into sepia as most memories are wont to do. It was reflected in his actions- but the motions he went through weren't under his control anymore. Not anymore.
He just wanted to forget, already.
--
"OMEDETOU!"
The scientist waves his arms and flails with energy only paralleled, Suzaku decides, by the Student Council President. And apparently, his customary confused look is response enough for his former boss to continue.
"Suzaku-kun," he says, leaning into the soldier's personal space with his hands on his hips and a gleam in his eye, "how's your humanity doing today?"
He leans back out of instinct while his mouth moves automatically, answering question for question. He doesn't know who's putting the words forming on the tip of his tongue but they feel right; he feels righteous, even, for what he asks now.
"Is a devicer human, Lloyd-san?"
The earl straightens, tweaking his glasses into a more settled place on his nose, and beams at him with unsettling intensity.
"That, Suzaku-kun, is for you to decide."
--
The pit is an empty void, airless and still. He's not supposed to be here. Yet here he is, staring blankly at the massive damage- no, this didn't even begin to describe 'damage', this was destruction so great it left nothing in its wake. It obliterated even the meaning of the word.
It was just a hole. In Area 11. In Britannia. In the world. In himself.
And his humanity?
"Yes, Kururugi-kun?"
"What makes us human is our ability to control what we do," he asserts confidently. Takumi-sensei smiles at him and calls on one of the now numerous students waving their hands in the air. He wonders if that was for helping him out when no one answered, or if he got it right.
He's laughing now; rich irony- and he can't stop.