After his first few days residing in the hospital, Chisaki considered biting off his tongue so he might bleed out and end the misery of being around so much filth.

Eri, the serum, the Eight Precepts of Death, his arms. Gone.

It was all for nothing; his determination to repay the boss and restore the yakuza name to its former glory was taken in one fell swoop by both heroes and villain. The afflicted who had changed the system on it's head, who made his kind an endangered species, had taken everything from him.

It would certainly be easy. The staff were underfunded, dispirited, and would not care very much should he die in their custody; at best they were disdainful and apathetic, at worst outright neglectful. It had been a week before Chisaki had been cleaned and fed properly; he could feel his skin burning almost constantly. Sleep was all he could do to escape, but it was useless when even his unconscious thoughts were on a repeated loop, always ending with Shigaraki standing over him with that sickeningly smug smile as he jeered and reminded him of just how far Chisaki had fallen.

It was only with the deepest loathing that Chisaki could find it in himself to admit that the villain was not entirely wrong when he pointed out that he was also infected; still, it was Chisaki's Quirk that would have aided in cleansing the world, and so as much as he despised it, he also took for granted that he too was corrupted, because at least it would serve a purpose.

Chisaki wondered if his boss was apprehended; the man who had said no to him, who refused his grand plans to cling to old ways that had long since stagnated their organization. He would never be able to repay him now. It was over. All he could do now was rot away.

"How is the pain in your arms?"

"It hasn't gotten any worse."

Kiyoko scribbled down her notes attached to the clipboard. "Chisaki-san, would you say the dosage we have you on now is fine currently?"

"Yes."

Chisaki had never met a naturally Quirkless person before; unlike him who was purged in the most ruthless way possible, Kiyoko simple was what she was. From the murmurs, comments, and the way both colleagues and superiors hassled her on even the most trivial things, it was clear Kiyoko was being singled out for all the wrong reasons.

What's more, she never seemed to take offense or even show she noticed this treatment; that being said, she would apologize and follow instructions and listen to reprimands without so much as a flush. This quiet strength was subtle, but obvious when all one could do was be confined to a bed and observe the world around them.

Chisaki found her compassion to be frankly sickening at first; he was under the impression she was another of the afflicted, the people who thought their powers could somehow make them unjustifiably able, another victim of the hero syndrome that Quirks perpetuated.

The fifth day of Chisaki's hospitalization, a fever had broken out, wracking his body with sweats and aches; his throat burned so that he was certain he might die before the morning had come. The idea of bleeding out seemed twice as appealing.

In the middle of the night she had come to his room with a cold glass of water and a damp rag clutched in hand as she made her way to his side, tentatively, slowly, as though he might snap at her. No one had come to check up on him since that morning. No one cared to.

Until that night.

"Get off me."

"You're sick Chisaki-san."

"Shut your mouth."

"Chisaki-san, please be reasonable."

"I abandoned that name."

Kiyoko looked confused, eyes going from the chart in her hand to look down at his face; Chisaki's voice was a strangled whisper, but the hateful way he stared up at her was clear as day.

"I abandoned it...it's all gone…"

"Gone?" Kiyoko leaned in to hear him; it was almost as though she weren't actually present. She questioned whether Chisaki was even wholly conscious.

"Everything is lost...leave me. I'm sure it's no skin off your or anyone else's back if one of your patients bit the dust in the middle of the night."

Kiyoko was stunned; he had spoken hardly a word to anyone since his arrival and now he was basically ordering her to let him die.

"What are you waiting for? Get out. No one would know if you left."

"I would."

Chisaki could hardly see the woman's face; the room's only light was out. No one had bothered to change the dead bulb; the only light came from the half open window that no one bothered to close to keep out the chilly night air. In the future he was only able to remember her by voice and a faint profile. It was the only way to prove she hadn't been a dream.

"It would go against everything I believe in to allow one of my patients to suffer." Kiyoko smiled ruefully as she set down her clipboard and stooped down to dip the rag into the bucket of cold water. "I don't blame you if you feel trapped here...but you are still alive."

"Barely."

"Isn't there something you still want to do, even as you are? It may not be a Quirk, but that's something that makes even someone like me able to try." Kiyoko came closer with her supplies, voice even and soft so not to cause him alarm; she smelled like disinfectant. "I suppose at the end of the day, all people really have is their own will."

Kiyoko squeezed the excess water out of the rag and back into the plastic bucket; Chisaki felt an automatic sense of relief when she placed her cool, damp hand on the back of his forehead and cheeks. He furiously fought against it, twisting his head sharply to the side.

"Being Quirkless has toughened me up in a respect. It's made me hopeful that someday, maybe I can be special, somehow, perhaps even to someone; I've come this far without any advantages. Many of the patients here also have that hope, even if they don't wish to say so."

Chisaki stopped any form of struggle when Kiyoko brought a wet rag to his burning neck. "Quirkless?"

"By the way, doesn't your name read as "restoration" and "a thousand blossoms"? I would say that's a good omen."

"For what? How can that name give me anything? Everything is over. It's all gone because of those diseased bastards. My power, my goals, my group, my home….I have nothing."

Kiyoko would never understand. She came from another world, a world where desperate measures and acts of cruelty were condemned; she could never approve of or comprehend him and the things he did to keep what was his.

To repay a debt, to settle a score, to rebuild a forgotten name; all these things were lost on a mind preoccupied with lawful justice and compassion.

"Your name makes me think of something starting over and becoming something new...something as amazing as a thousand blossoms. It just sounds like a good fortune to me." Kiyoko chuckled self deprecatingly, softly in that still, stuffy room. "The characters in my name just read as something like 'pure child of the south'. It's an old family name." she shook her head in amusement at the triviality of it. "It's funny how people hold on to certain things without any real reason."

Chisaki felt his body tremble as she wiped gently at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, then behind his ears, though it did little to help. His whole body felt like it was on fire.

"But there is a reason...she isn't contaminated."

The meager light from the window hit the back of Kiyoko's head, making the outline of her hair shine, though her face was still mainly in shadow; Chisaki wished she would move. He wanted to see her, see more clearly this woman whose touch failed to make his skin crawl.

And yet, the people Kiyoko worked with treated her as though she were below them somehow. It was an unfunny joke. These filthy, ill disease ridden people would look down their noses at Kiyoko for her perceived abnormality when it was they who were infected. They only saw a defect, but it was she who was clean and pure and endured it all with a quiet integrity as she went about her duties each day, working tirelessly for reasons that Chisaki could not understand. It was so remote an idea that someone could be willful when the world had given them the short end of the stick so early on.

Maybe in an odd way, regardless of all they could never agree on, all they could never hope to understand about each other, they weren't so different.

He had persevered for his own goals despite all challenges, what even his boss had to say, Chisaki had done what he felt was the way to maintain their honor and his pride. The only place he had ever belonged.

Kiyoko held her head up each day, no matter what subtle insults and not so subtle criticisms were flung to her very face, no matter how many times she was hassled and patronized and even ridiculed for her own personal code of conduct and ethics. It was all Kiyoko could do; it was her own will and strength that seemed to pull her through, even when everyone was telling her she shouldn't even bother.

In hopelessness, Kiyoko had thrived and she had done it without needing the sickness that plagued so many in their world.

Chisaki couldn't help wonder for the first time what was left for him after failure. Powerless and confined to this bed, his ideals and goals in the toilet, what more did life have to offer someone in his position?

And then the answer came, swathed in moonlight with cool, clean, gentle hands.

"Is this propped up enough for you Chisaki-san?" Kiyoko asked as she raised the head end of the bed and set it in place; he nodded and she went to get his meal tray from the small dresser, along with a steaming cup of plain black tea.

"I hope you don't mind, I put some honey in the tea. It should help any lingering soreness in your throat." Kiyoko set the cup down next to the plate and her own cup of tea; a little fold out tray was placed over his lap to hold everything and a large disposable bib fastened over his shoulders and neck to keep off crumbs and stains. She supposed she didn't have need to take precautions as his fever had broken some time ago, yet with the overall conditions and lack of treatment, she would not be surprised if it befell him once again.

Chisaki watched her hands slice the stone cold omelet into bite sized pieces, her fingers rip open the packet of ketchup, her eyes as they stayed trained to the task at hand.

"You're so disciplined Minami-san."

"Oh, thank you." Kiyoko's eyes flew up to meet his momentarily.

Chisaki simply nodded as he surveyed her expression; it was only mildly taken aback at the sudden compliment. It seemed whenever he paid her compliments, Kiyoko would deflect them in some way or accept them with neither pleasure or apathy. Nothing seemed to be able to crack her professionally polite demeanor. The only time she came even close to opening up was the fogged over night, and Chisaki could not even recall her expressions, if she had any that differed from her soothing, almost serene mask.

"Is black tea all that's served here?"

"No, we have other drinks Chisaki-san." Kiyoko said. "Nurse Hana told me you only liked plain black."

"I didn't. I suspect she said that so she wouldn't have to bother with doing her job and taking requests."

"Oh, I see." Kiyoko held back a frown. "Well, I'll get you something else from the cafeteria for dinner."

"If you're concerned with me feeling pain, perhaps something stronger like sake."

Even her smiles and laughter were subdued, often followed by a hand covering her mouth, as if it was some crime to enjoy herself at all.

"I'm afraid we don't carry alcoholic drinks Chisaki-san." Kiyoko replied, fingers still blocking the soft curve of her lips before picking up the chopsticks and offering him a bite. Chisaki stared straight at her face while Kiyoko kept her eyes on the food to make sure nothing spilled.

"Minami-san, have I told you yet about the cup-exchange ritual?"

Chisaki was no villain despite being forced to reside in the same hospital as them; part of the reason he liked to educate Kiyoko on the ways of the yakuza was to make a point that he was not cut from the same cloth as the scum she was surrounded with on a daily basis. He was a man of standards, of a proud and notable line; not some two bit thug or psycho. She listened attentively as she checked his vitals or his dosage, even as she cleaned him and changed the bedpan. It did not embarrass him in the slightest to have her do such a thing; Kiyoko always made it known just what she would be doing and whether he was uncomfortable or wanted more privacy. She gave him the due respect, yet even so, Chisaki was a bit agitated.

He wanted her eyes to be downcast, to watch the lashes on her eyelids flutter nervously to her cheeks as she stripped him of the hospital gown to bathe him; he wanted her hands to falter when they reached certain areas of his body, for her gaze to linger, her breath to quicken.

But Kiyoko would do no such thing, and he expected as much; she was a trained nurse after all, and no doubt she must have to help other patients, either confined or perhaps unable to as he was, with the same tasks. A woman as professional as her, especially one who was accustomed to remaining a dignified air in potentially uncomfortable situations, would not allow herself to show hesitance. For Kiyoko, it was routine.

"The superior will pour the one about to be initiated an amount of sake and then a larger portion for himself." Chisaki explained between bites; Kiyoko was always careful to make sure she didn't offer him another bite until he nodded to the plate. "Once they do this, they drink from each other's cups. This signifies the initiate is now an official member of the syndicate; once the ceremony is done, there would be a banquet and some would take trips to a bathhouse. Of course….this was a bit problematic once the hero system came into play."

Kiyoko didn't miss the bitterness in his tone at the word 'hero'. "Why Chisaki-san?"

"It's since fallen out of practice, but in the old days it was common for yakuza to get full body tattoos. These kind were once used to mark criminals; for a yakuza, it means they have chosen to stigmatize themselves, to show they have entered a syndicate."

"It sounds like it would take a long time to do it."

Chisaki nodded. "It is, and a painful process at that, a way for those wanting to show off their toughness and dedication; after all, once they did this, they were marked and there was no going back. Those who were initiated understood that they would be cutting off all ties to their previous lives, to outsiders."

"I think I understand. But then with the rise of heroes, I suppose having these full body tattoos became something of a tip off."

"Exactly." Kiyoko tipped the cup gently to Chisaki's lips after making sure it was cooled down and setting it back down quietly so as not to disrupt his story. "Presently, you'll be hard pressed to find any yakuza with any sort of tattoos. The cup exchange is still a time honored tradition, even if it's done in secret."

Kiyoko fed him the last piece of omelet; once she was sure his plate was clean, she picked up her cup of tea. "I have to say Chisaki-san, I've never heard of such a thing...but something about it does ring a bell." she sipped her tea, trying to recall why it was vaguely familiar, but nothing came to mind. She was certain she had never heard it from school or from anything online.

"I suppose it is similar to the Shinto wedding tradition of the groom and bride drinking sake from the same cups." Chisaki supplied.

"Oh, that must be it." Kiyoko mused; she finished her tea and smiled lightly. "But those rituals are two very different things of course."

"I don't blame you for seeing any similarities. They both include a sake drinking ritual, a banquet after the official ceremony has finished; they even both include people becoming bonded for life, albeit under different circumstances."

Kiyoko nodded as she put the two cups on top of the plate and tossed the disposable chopsticks into the small trash bin by the door. As she picked up the tray and made to place it on the cart, she frowned. Both rims were stained with the imprint of pink, almost transparent chapstick. Chisaki's eyes followed her line of vision, but he looked distinctly unperturbed despite her troubled expression.

"Is there something the matter?"

"My apologies Chisaki-san, I was so tired and distracted, I completely forgot which tea was mine. I know you feel uncomfortable when others touch your cups or plates, I'll-"

"I don't care. Do you mind helping me change after you put away the dishes? The person working your shift the other day didn't bother to bathe me."

"Oh yes, of course." Kiyoko rolled the cart to the entrance quickly. "I'll be back with a clean pair of clothes shortly. I'm sorry again, I'm not normally so careless."

"Think nothing of it. Was it not an accident we exchanged cups?"

Kiyoko opened her mouth to speak but hesitated when she caught Chisaki's stare. He seemed to be mocking her, yet his face was impassive and his tone careless. She decided she must have simply been more tired than she realized and gave him an apologetic smile.

"Yes, of course. I'll be right back."

He watched with eyes like a hawk's as Kiyoko closed the door behind her, knowing with satisfaction the last thing she would do was think nothing of the incident.