Judging by the title, it's pretty obvious where the inspiration comes from. As I've once again disappeared for two days straight, I wanted to at least do something for the last day I'll be working on this fanfiction. Assuming all goes well, I'll have another one up within two hours or so. Anyhow, Kenjirou gets some love! Sort of.

Dr. Tateyama and Mr. Eyes

Kenjirou Tateyama, despite only being a teacher, was a well respected man. He was praised by his peers for his hard work in "taking all the difficult students", and by parents for his strong strive for good effort. The students were all rather fond of him as well, for being a strict yet reasonable teacher.

Still, despite his relative success for a teacher, Kenjirou Tateyama was a lonely man. It was said that he attracted misfortune: his wife had died, then his daughter and his two students on the same day, then his four foster children moved out. It could only be described as a cruel twist of fate, how badly Kenjirou's life had turned for the worse.

Perhaps more troubling was the fact that Kenjirou had no clue why this was happening. Sure, he could tack it down to the world hating him, but Kenjirou was a man of science. Kenjirou wouldn't take the 'mere whims of fate' as an answer to his tragedy. Still, he had nothing else he could think of, because believing some greater power had been responsible for it would be going even father out.

In a short period of two years, Kenjirou had lost his wife, his biological child, and his foster children. It was no small burden, but he carried it nonetheless, occasionally wondering why it was so.

From time to time, Kenjirou would phone in with the kids, but they would never pick up. Even if they did, he would hear a bit of yelling in the background before it'd shut off. They were clearly avoiding him, even going out of their way to rent an apartment to leave the building. Kenjirou had no clue, however, as to why. It was a troublesome thing really, a very worrisome thing, to be so clueless about one's own life.

It first occurred to Kenjirou when he had been leafing through Ayano's old school things, in a wave of nostalgia fueled by longing. No, perhaps not because of that. Perhaps it had to do with the book Kenjirou had picked up, one he would always skip over because he'd always hated English.

It was called the "Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", a story about a well-known scientist who harbored a split personality that would come out at night. Although normally perfectly fine and well-mannered, Dr. Jekyll's other side, Mr. Hyde was a ruthless killer and a horrid murderer.

It dawned on Kenjirou at that moment, at that specific little blip in time. He laughed a hollow laugh, and imagined himself in the role of Dr. Jekyll, the scientist who'd slowly let his other side eat away at him. It was amusing at first… but then Kenjirou realized there were legitimate parallels.

For one, Kenjirou had difficulty remembering his nocturnal activities. It was hazy, like running through fog. Kenjirou would have the faintest notion that he hadn't spent the night marking tests, and that perhaps he had been elsewhere, judging by the mud stains on his normally impeccable shoes. Yet all the tests and assignments were marked, a feat too great for a single night.

Kenjirou had waved everything off as insignificant. The mud? Probably just an old remnant, ignoring how fresh it was. The wet jacket? Maybe he left a window open during the night's rain.

Kenjirou realized that he'd been ignoring every little detail, everything that seemed the slightest bit significant about his nightly actions. It would feel as if he'd slept fine, and his work was usually done, so Kenjirou had just thrown his suspicions away, blaming them on a bad dream.

But was it one?

Ayano had committed suicide. His foster children moved out practically as soon as humanely possible.

What if…

What if these incidents were linked?

The nights spent in a daze… alcohol?

The kids running from him, even fearing him maybe, could that have been Kenjirou's fault?

In a cold sweat, Kenjirou raced around the house, searching everywhere he could for any trace of alcohol. Anything, a stash, a hidden cupboard, anyplace anywhere could be suspicious. Still, after a good half hour of searching, it hit Kenjirou that even in his worst hangovers from his youth; even those left him with some impression of what he'd done. It was one thing for the memories to be hard to tell, and another entirely for them to be practically nonexistent.

It was frustrating; it really was, trying to remember something so important, yet just out of reach. Kenjirou felt like the donkey with the carrot, the dog held by the leash, the oddest feeling that something was toying with him. Kenjirou was by no means a dumb man, and he knew, he knew that something was going on.

Yet still, even then Kenjirou had no evidence to base his thoughts off of. His recollections were too unclear, too indescribable to make assumptions from. Kenjirou hadn't found any alcohol or suspicious drugs of any sort, nor had he any reason to suspect himself of such substances under any other circumstances.

So why was it that Kenjirou felt so cheated?

He didn't know.

He didn't understand.

He didn't know how to understand.

Then Kenjirou Tateyama blinked hard, nearly dropping the expensive pieces of china he'd been fumbling around with.

When the teacher's eyes refocused, they were a pure crimson shade of red, like that of fresh blood.