Assimilating himself into a roommate was a surprisingly easy task for Chisaki.

Each day began with him arising a bit before Kiyoko to make them breakfast. When Kiyoko left for work the next day, Chisaki had ventured out covertly on his own to get groceries. It would seem the majority of Kiyoko's kitchen held the bare minimum of ingredients and premade meals; this sort of diet may have been all well and good for someone with a busy schedule, but it was far from nutritious. Chisaki wasn't a five star chef, but he did prefer to fix his own meals when he had the time; after all, he knew exactly where his hands had been.

Once refilling the cabinets with actual food was accomplished, Chisaki busied himself with taking care of the state of Kiyoko's apartment, though if he were being fair, it wasn't half as bad as he thought it might be. For the most part it was devoid of clutter and build up of dust or grime, excluding a few corners and vent ducts; but Chisaki wouldn't blame Kiyoko for slacking a bit on the conditions of her home.

Kiyoko always seemed so tired after work; by the time she came home, she was barely even able to find the energy to converse with him during dinner, aside from polite, noncommittal responses to his inquiries of her day and words of appreciation for his help. It was the best part of Chisaki's day, even if she didn't speak much.

When he wasn't preoccupied with helping Kiyoko with what she couldn't tend to, Chisaki would pay visits to the second hand bookstore. Sometimes he would read from her own collection; there was an old shelf in the living room stuffed full of novels, poetry, and a few self help books entitled things like, 'The 7 Habits of Effective People', 'Nursing From Within: A Look at Self-Care', and 'If I'm so Wonderful, Why am I Still Single? Strategies to Change Your Love Life for the Better'. Chisaki wondered if there was a chapter about opening your eyes and knowing a good opportunity when it was smacking you over the head with a hammer. Otherwise, he found himself pleased with most of the contents in Kiyoko's personal library.

Before Chisaki had access to the apartment himself, he had seen Kiyoko frequently lounging in her recliner after a long day, curled up in her pajamas with a book and a cup of steaming hot tea. As Chisaki was granted with his own time to kill, he found himself gravitating to the same chair, thumbing through each text with disciplined focus. All the literature Chisaki bothered to pick up at the bookstore for his own use were chosen with the intent of research in mind, but Kiyoko's own worn, crinkled page collection also served a purpose.

The idea was to get insight. Chisaki was determined to find out Kiyoko's likes and dislikes, what peaked her interest, the way she thought, what made her tick; but truth be told, Chisaki did feel somewhat irked at the fact he had to scrap for such information instead of hearing it from Kiyoko herself, but there really wasn't much he could do otherwise.

Each day Kiyoko had her own settled routine; she would get ready in a timely manner each morning, yet she would have maybe ten minutes at the most to eat the breakfast Chisaki had prepared. All he had time to do was make sure she took the lunch her packed for her before Kiyoko was out the door and down the street. After work it wasn't much different; Kiyoko always came home with little to say and not much of an appetite. Chisaki would always try to strike up a conversation, but Kiyoko was disengaged at worst and vaguely alert at best; as soon as her dishes were rinsed, she would excuse herself to her room and stay there for the rest of the night, door shut and locked.

It was ironic that they had such an easier time talking as patient and nurse; but then, Chisaki was the one who probably was in contact with Kiyoko the most when she was having to tend to his every need.

The oddest part was the fact that when Chisaki had been watching over her in secret, Kiyoko had never been so quick to retreat to her room. At first he wondered if Kiyoko had caught some sort of cold or illness from one of her patients, but she exhibited no symptoms aside from being distant.

It almost made him miss the hospital.

"I've made Mina-Kiyoko uncomfortable. But how?"

Chisaki thumbed through a book of flowers Kiyoko had from her school days; he could see in the index a stamp from a local college. He wondered if Kiyoko purchased it herself or if she simply forgot to ever return it.

"I wonder...Kiyoko is always so busy….maybe that's it. She spends all day diving her attention between patients, her supervisors, and everything else she needs to get done, she just doesn't have enough energy to do much else."

Chisaki frowned to himself. But the fact was ever since he got there, Kiyoko didn't need to dispense effort on anything at home. The cooking, cleaning, even a few minor repairs like a leaky faucet and a loose door hinge, he had taken care of it all.

"Then it's something else."

Chisaki closed the book and placed it on the coffee table; he looked at the empty couch next to him. The loveseat was brown leather and cozy looking, but it didn't look like it got much use. As far as Chisaki could see, Kiyoko never had company over, friends, family, or otherwise. He wondered if she was lonely.

They could be sitting together on that couch, reading books and sipping tea and soaking in the comfortable silence only broken by the sound of rustled pages. Now and then Kiyoko would glance up at him and as the hour wore on she would find her eyes growing heavier and heavier until she could no longer finish her reading. Chisaki would close his own book shut and carry her, yes carry, because she would be falling all over him in her groggy state, and he'd take her to their room and lay her down next to him. Kiyoko would be so close in the dark, fingers tracing along his face light as a feather until they found the scar near his hairline; a little frown might tug at her lips, but Chisaki would reassure her that it didn't bother him. Nothing could bother him when she was looking at him with such gentle concern. Then she would smile.

Chisaki's peaceful expression twisted to mild frustration; none of that would be happening at the rate he was going.

The things they could be played out in his mind like something from a film, smooth and maybe a bit predictable, but satisfying all the same. Kiyoko was the one who encouraged him to start over anew and think about what else he could do with the life he still had. She had asked them if there was something he still wanted to do, some sort of goal he could attain, even in the state he was left in.

Chisaki knew his old dream was dead. Shigaraki Tomura and the pro heroes had seen to that. It didn't matter if Chisaki still had a resourceful mind, a keen intellect, or a fearsome disposition; it wasn't even enough to have his arms back. He had no real power in comparison to Shigaraki and unlike him, Chisaki didn't have a group of supporters at his heels willing to obey.

Chisaki honestly didn't know who he despised more; with any luck the heroes and the villains would kill each other off during the inevitable confrontation Shigaraki would incite with his twisted mind and Chisaki's stolen work.

Not for the first time, Chisaki couldn't help wish that he had met Kiyoko before his fall. Back then he had the money and resources to keep her under his surveillance, even when he couldn't be near, and keep her safe.

Of course, Chisaki wouldn't have locked her away in some dank, musty dungeon; he wasn't a monster. Kiyoko would have her own room, spacious and finely furnished with a bed covered in soft silks and plush pillows for her to have an easy rest. She'd have nice clothes to wear and pretty things to adorn her neck and wrists, pieces Chisaki would pick out personally. He'd make sure at meal times she would be brought delicious food, every day something new that Kiyoko otherwise wouldn't have been able to sample on her own salary. Chisaki would lavish her with gifts, would sit her down and run his fingers, his own flesh and blood ones, through her perfumed hair and have her tell him if there was anything she wished for. He'd like for Kiyoko to ask him for things herself, to turn her face up to show him her grateful smile and thank him so sweetly.

And all Chisaki would ask for in return was for Kiyoko to never step foot outside. He hated how she had to submerge herself in filth and disease every day to make her living, and if Chisaki had it his way, he would have kept her isolated and far from anything that would make her unclean.

As pleased as Chisaki was with his new arms and hands, he still found himself frustrated to no end that he was not able to really feel Kiyoko's skin and hair and lips with them. He couldn't help think of rewinding the clock and the hours he could have spent just touching and exploring her body to his heart's content; once again Chisaki was slapped with the cruel irony that now impeded one of his most burning desires.

If only he could have ensnared Kiyoko earlier. If only she had been his from the start, kept safe and secured in the beautiful cage Chisaki had built, and he knows without a doubt he would have done so. He was not willing to take the risk his angel of mercy flying away from him.

It was unfortunate, but if that was the case, Chisaki would have had no choice but to clip her wings, to wear her down to compliance for her own good; he honestly didn't want to be forced to do such a thing.

After all, wasn't it enough that Chisaki was willing to all but throw himself at her feet so that Kiyoko would stay grounded, so she would remain by his side? In exchange for his devotion and protection all he asked was she give herself to him. Even now, all Chisaki aimed to do was please and make her life a little easier, and what did Kiyoko do in response? It was as if the time they had shared meant nothing to her. He might as well have been a stranger trespassing in her home.

"That's it."

Kiyoko wasn't responding to him because he hadn't given her anything to respond to. The past few days Chisaki had been keeping out of the way; since the first night he had approached her, Chisaki had been careful to give Kiyoko room and respect her personal space.

That was the root of the problem. Chisaki hadn't done anything more to close the distance; his speech was polite and mindful, if not formal.

"If I want to change things around here, I need to be more forward."

Truth be told, Chisaki couldn't help cringing every time he remembered the way he had hung all over Kiyoko before. He really had no idea what came over him. It seemed as the days went by, his mind only grew more muddled and if that wasn't enough, his heart had been hosting a tempest of emotions; frustration, anxiety, anger, regret, admiration, desire, and an ever present desperation that gnawed at his insides. Chisaki had waited so long to have a chance to make Kiyoko his; that night he had ached to be near her; for the first time since his dreams had been shattered, he felt there was something worth looking forward to.

If there was some way he could make Kiyoko understand that, Chisaki knew it would only bring them closer.