The place was described as a modest high-rise apartment. It was located in the city center. The university was a block away. The café where it happened, to his immediate right. Hiei adjusted his grip on his backpack and tolled his suitcase along. As he passed the café, he paused to look through the window. It was an elegant, intimate-seeming space. She would have loved it here.

Hiei wrenched his gaze away.

With a tight grip on his suitcase, he strode forward, past the café and into the apartment lobby. After a brief word with the receptionist, he received his keys and made his way to the elevator. Before long, he stood before his new home.

Room 606.

He moved to insert the key, but the apartment door opened.

A tall redhead stood before him. It took Hiei a moment, but he realized the redhead was male beneath the long hair and feminine features. When he spoke, he confirmed Hiei's deduction.

"You must be Hiei Jaganshi," the redhead said. His voice was baritone and he wore a gentle smile. "I'm Kurama. It's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand. His expression beseeched innocence and kindness. Hiei narrowed his eyes. He's seen that look on the orphanage director's face far too many times.

"And you must be a hermaphrodite." Hiei said flatly. Kurama's eyebrow raised, but his smile remained in place.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said you look like a girl and talk like one too," Hiei spat. Kurama's smile lessened by several millimeters. "Get out of my way, and save your fake smiles for the clowns."

Hiei shoved his way past Kurama and took in the apartment. It was modest, clean, and divided into two spheres by the kitchen and living room. The door at the end of the left hall was preceded by a doormat. Hiei looked to the right and that hall was unadorned. He stalked forward.

Behind him, Kurama locked the door with a click. His gaze lingered on Hiei's back, then flickered to the kitchen. On the counter, there was a set of knives. Keeping in mind Hiei's pale, slender neck, he picked up a knife and smiled.

His room consisted of a bed, a desk, and a closet. The color scheme was a neutral gray, left behind by the previous owner. The smell of antiseptic hung in the air. Hiei ran a finger along his desk and came up spotless. The redhead was fake as hell, but he hadn't lied on the advertisement. The place was clean and fully furnished. Hiei supposed he should be thankful for small miracles.

Hiei unpacked his suitcase. It was a week's worth of clothes and an extra pair of shoes. It took only a moment to arrange them in the closet. From his slim pickings, he grabbed a black shirt and cargo pants. With his backpack, he headed into the small bathroom on his side of the hall.

The bathroom was outfitted in the same gray of his bedroom. A toothbrush, towel, and waste basket were provided. A laundry bag hung behind the door. Hiei locked the door. He placed his backpack in the corner and the spare outfit on the sink.

Within five minutes, he completed his shower.

Another five, and he had toweled himself dry.

He dressed himself in a fresh shirt and cargo pants.

Hiei did not own pajamas. At all times, he dressed in versatile shirts and pants with pockets. A teardrop necklace never left his body. His backpack, filled with a laptop and various documents, was never left unattended. The time it took to take a shower was a time in which his possessions were left vulnerable. During any other occasion, Hiei was either in his room or within five feet of his room, fully capable of apprehending an intruder.

Hiei looked at himself in the mirror.

His black hair was unkept as always. His red eyes were striking against his pale skin. For a moment, he stared at his eyes.

There was one other person who shared his face and eyes. The only difference had been her pastel blue hair. Then, time passed and her face was shaped by sincere smiles while his marred by perpetual scowls. As they grew older, people mistook them for mere siblings rather than twins.

Hiei clenched his hand around the teardrop necklace and remembered what he was here for.

Two years ago, he'd been 16 and fresh out of the orphanage without a penny to his name. The first thing he did was look for his twin, who'd been adopted away while he was left behind. He found her on the evening news.

"16-year-old girl murdered," the headlines had read. He had been paralyzed with shock when a familiar face greeted him on the TV. "At a local café, a young barista was found dead. The killer is still at large. She appears to be among dozens of victims of a…"

At the time, he had neither the skill nor the resources to track down the killer. Two years later, his investigation did not flush out the killer, but did flush out his biological parent—who was also dead.

Turns out he'd been born to a sex worker and a politician. Bastard children were career-ruining to the politician. Any children were career-ruining to a sex worker. So, Hiei and Yukina were left at an orphanage but evidently the sex worker never forgot them, for they addressed their will to "red-eyed twins who bore a teardrop necklace."

Hiei had the funding to investigate full-time. He also had a lead on the killer. After a wild goose chase across the nation, it appeared the killer had returned to their favorite scene of crime: York New City.

And here he was. Rooming with an asshole. Living across the street from the scene of his sister's murder. Investigating night and day and convinced without a doubt that this fucking time, he had the bastard cornered.

Hiei scowled. He grabbed his backpack and exited the bathroom, fully dressed. Soon after he settled down in his room, there was a knock at the door.

Hiei ignored it.

The knocking continued. It was gentle but persistent. As Hiei continued to ignore it, it adopted the beat of a popular children's song. Five minutes later, Hiei stomped his way to the door and opened it.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

Kurama looked at him innocently and lowered his hand.

"Why, I was wondering if you were done unpacking. I've made dinner for two, you see, and I'd be pleased if you joined me."

"No," Hiei said flatly, and he tried to shut the door but Kurama leaned his entire body against it.

"There's no need to be reserved," Kurama chided, beaming down at Hiei with his kindly smile. "I've been told my cooking is far from bad. It does not appear you packed groceries of any sort," Kurama made a show of looking around Hiei's room, "And I can't bear to see my roommate eating dirt off the floor like some kind of animal." Hiei's eyes widened.

"…What?"

Kurama's smile broadened.

"Oh, my bad. Are you hard of hearing? I said," Kurama's eyes glinted. "Why don't you eat dinner with me at the table instead of off the floor like an animal? I'm sure it's a change of pace for you, but I wouldn't mind teaching you how to use a fork."

Hiei stared at the redhead's smile. Then, he scoffed.

"And your true colors show," Hiei drawled. He shoved Kurama off the door and slammed it shut. Kurama watched as he locked his door. After testing the handle, Hiei turned and cocked his head toward the kitchen.

"Well? I haven't got all day. Let's see what sort of rubbish you've prepared." Hiei strode toward the kitchen. He's met sickening people, deceitful people, cruel people. He knew confrontations were inevitable and for his sanity's sake, it was better to lay down his ground rules sooner rather than later.

Kurama followed, beaming. With longer strides, he overtook Hiei. As they approached the kitchen, Kurama pulled out a chair for the shorter boy.

"Have a seat," he said. Hiei grudgingly sat and Kurama settled across from him. Between them were two plates of steak. They looked skillfully cooked and smelled scrumptious. Hiei tightened his abdomen and stifled a stomach growl through sheer force of will. He hadn't eaten anything aside from a breakfast coffee at the airport. Across from him, Kurama's smile slid into a smirk. He picked up his utensils.

"This is a fork," Kurama said, brandishing the instrument patronizingly. "And this is a knife. You hold them like this," Kurama exaggerated his movements. "And cut into your food like so." Delicately, Kurama cut a cube of steak. He pierced it with his fork and held it out to Hiei. "Do I need to teach you how to chew, or can I assume you've passed kindergarten?"

Hiei grabbed his own knife and aimed for Kurama's hand. The redhead's eyes widened, but to Hiei's surprise, he avoided the blow. The knife pierced his steak, splitting his plate in half. Sauce dripped all over the table. Kurama blinked, examining his hand.

While he had avoided getting skewered, there was a faint scratch on the side of his hand. Blood began to ooze and Kurama stared at it with an unreadable expression.

"Well," Kurama said slowly, "Shall I take that as a no?"

"Yes," Hiei deadpanned. "I was raised by wolves. I've never heard of forks and knives but they look like fine murder weapons to me. In fact," Hiei pulled his knife out of the table. "I've never had steak before. It's a bit too cooked for me. Your head looks like a better dinner."

Hiei aimed at Kurama's neck.

Kurama intercepted the knife between the prongs of his fork. His eyes widened when Hiei tackled him to the ground and knocked the fork out of his grasp. There was a thunk as Hiei sank his knife into the floor beside his face.

"Let me make myself clear," Hiei growled, pinning the taller boy down. "I have shit to fucking do. I don't need your fake smiles, I don't need your bullshit, and I don't have time to waste on a fucking circus freak like you. You leave me the hell alone. I leave you the hell alone. By the end of this year, I'll be gone, and you'll be free to get back on your bullshit but until then—stay the fuck away from me. Understood?"

Kurama blinked slowly, but made no response. He stared at Hiei in a way that made the shorter boy's skin crawl. It was disturbing, so Hiei grabbed the other boy's collar and shook him a few times.

"Do you understand?" Hiei groused.

Kurama seemed to get ahold of himself.

"Ah…yes," Kurama said, "I understand. You would like me to respect your boundaries, and will do the same for me. Yes. That is fine." Pinned on the floor, he managed a kind smile. "I understand, Hiei, so could you please get off? I assure you I will not repeat my antics."

Hiei searched the redhead's expression. The smile was back, which irritated Hiei to no end, but he supposed clowns couldn't change themselves overnight, so he let it slide. At the very least, Kurama seemed to be taking his demands seriously. He got off the redhead and stalked back into his room, slamming the door shut.

In his wake, Kurama carefully pulled the knife out of the floor and righted himself. He cleaned the table, throwing Hiei's share of the steak into a black bag, which he disposed of in the communal dumpster. On his way back, he chuckled to himself.

What a shame, Kurama thought, That I didn't get to complete my inspection.

A shame, but not a disappointment, for resistance made the experiment that much more interesting.

Kurama returned to his room.

His room was sparsely decorated save for a wine-red curtain and a vase of roses on his bedside drawer. Beside the roses, there was a picture of a middle-aged woman with a kind smile and scarred hands. His desk was neatly organized. His bookshelf was laden with heavy texts, save for the top shelf which was adorned with various vials, bottles, and scientific instruments.

A small note labelled that shelf as "lab equipment." His various vials were all labeled with innocuous names like "Organic Chemistry Lab 1," "Microbiology Lab 3," and "Sodium Chloride Mixture 3/4."

Kurama examined a bottle labelled "R-2." It was half-empty and he shook his head ruefully. Rohypnol wasn't the easiest thing to get his hands on, but neither was it the most expensive drug of his arsenal so he wasn't too put out. In fact, he was pleased.

Customarily, he welcomed his roommates with a drug-laden dinner. Rare was a specimen who did not fall for his superficial charm, and rarer still was a specimen who avoided inspection on the first day. Hiei was one of three people who hadn't been lulled into deep sleep by a steak cooked to perfection. Kurama had anticipated it after Hiei brutally shut down his false charm. It was refreshing, in fact, to meet someone who absolutely despised his kindly charade.

Kurama pulled a plain lab notebook from his desk.

Subject 09, he titled. The specimen is of short stature and short temper. It reacts to perceived superficiality with insults. It reacts to agitation with violence. It appears to be experienced in combat. As of day one, the specimen turned down sustenance and threatened the researcher with a knife. The specimen did not hesitate to draw blood.

Physical assessment to be completed. Height, weight, body build...ears, eyes, mouth...abdomen, skin, extremities...

Kurama smiled.

With this specimen, his year of observation was unlikely to be dull. Hiei Jaganshi seemed laden with countless buttons to push. Kurama intended to discover each and every one. When he was done pushing and prodding and dissecting what made Hiei Jaganshi's brain tick, he would take apart the boy's body and examine his insides too.

In the back of his mind, Kurama looked forward to day 365.

For such a violent boy, Hiei had pretty eyes.

He was sure those eyes would look lovely beside his vase of roses.