What bothered Itsuki most about the whole business was blatancy of Version 7.34's imprinting.

It was like watching someone try on their own skin so they could model it before you rather than something decently mundane, like lingerie. The process reminded Itsuki uncomfortably of his own childhood; yet he was no Bahbem, no god-father that a person should crave affection from, and simultaneously hate.

Yet Sayoko kept adjusting herself, the way she would tilt her head. The turn of her wrists. The precise timbre of her laugh. He told her that any of her choices were perfectly adequate and this did not suit her, so instead she'd begun to devise ideas of his preferences so that she could chase those down instead.

Helena knew that it wasn't in his nature to dominate others, and so Itsuki's only option was to do nothing at all to encourage Version 7.34 one way or the other.

Even so, he knew that he couldn't avoid Sayoko's absorption of his habits. She studied the way he took his coffee and then claimed it for her own, professing that she'd always hated too much sugar, always loved a little extra cream. When Itsuki expressed mild frustration with one field researcher, he found her openly railing about the man the next day. Any pleasure he expressed, she leapt on tenfold, and that which caused him irritation was branded in her opinion.

One day he came across Haruka while on the hunt for shoes that Sayoko was trying to redefine herself through. Introductions had been easy. Haruka's enthusiasm and open-faced demeanor had always been one of her most attractive qualities, and she had launched into the meeting with eager bravado.

"So this is where you've been, Itsuki." This meaning Sayoko, from Haruka's wave. "I'm surprised to see you out during such great weather. It's sunbathing season, don't you know. Not that I'd expect you to remember with all your research." Cue forceful nod. Then she turned to Sayoko. "Is he showing you a good time? Oh! Pardon my manners, what's your name?"

Pulling her hands defensively before her, Version 7.34 held her ground against Haruka's aggressive cheerfulness. "It's... it's Sayoko Nanamori. I'm... pleased to meet you."

"Mine's Haruka Shitow." Conspiratorially, she leaned forward to Sayoko and shielded her mouth with a hand. "If he gets too boring, tell him you've got to meet up with me for drinks, okay?"

"She's newly arrived to Nirai-Kanai." Itsuki's interjection earned him a place back in the conversation. "You'll be gentle to her," he added with a smile that was only an excuse to look at the dark-haired woman, "won't you, Haruka?"

True to form, Haruka had shot him a brief glare. But to Sayoko, she delivered only a beam. "Of course! I always enjoy meeting new friends." Two fingers darted up to her brow so that she could perform a jaunty salute.

Sayoko had smiled nervously. The flickered expression showed teeth just at the corners of her mouth, shadows of primal aggression long evolved into social politeness.

They had watched her go in silence afterwards. The crowd rustled around them both; Itsuki with his face completely silent, and Sayoko's lips faintly pursed. Haruka had a habit of bouncing her weight from heel to heel when she thought no one was looking directly at her, and the doctor's eyes had been sharp to track the progress of the woman's wanderings away.

"I think I liked her better with her hair long," Itsuki had mused aloud at last, and then turned to resume their search for Version 7.34's footwear.

It was weeks later when he realized that Sayoko was growing hers out that Itsuki realized his mistake in expressing a preference. By then, it was too late. He had teased Sayoko as deftly as he could about how long hair was only more trouble to take care of, gesturing to his own ponytail, but Version 7.34 had learned how to laugh by then and only imitated his jests back.

The restraint of inaction was crippling.

Each time she performed, Sayoko would turn her eyes unconsciously towards him in hope of approval, and Itsuki would smile in as neutral a manner as he could before returning to the displayed reports.

Pretending she didn't exist would be a cruelty. Willfully guiding her into a slavish devotion to him would be worse, the doctor decided.

The rationale sounded better with a glass of wine in his stomach and another on its way to join.

He'd made Sayako his housekeeper at first in some awkward manner of arrangement that involved her staying at the Kisaragi residence because Itsuki had no idea where else to put her. The act had been generated from a lingering sympathy that Itsuki had tried to quell when he'd realized what the emotion was; Helena had been right in calling it pity, he'd feared, but he didn't know what else to do.

It was natural to have sympathy for being another creature of the laboratories that cast out so many iterations with product codes instead of names. It was natural, and it was also dangerous.

Bahbem, Itsuki had decided long ago, was a botanist at heart. He loved pinning down his new discoveries with all the pride of a collector wanting all mutations properly popped through the killing jar into their labeled drawers. Occasionally, he let his pets run with long tethers before whistling them back, but the leashes were ever-present. Not being able to see them did not mean they were not there.

Somewhere in all those drawers there would be a place for the doctor as well, once he'd passed his prime or perhaps right when he'd be entering more of it. Advanced copy of an Ollin Instrumentalist, B class. Aged however many years before they clapped an ether-soaked cloth over his mouth if they decided to come upon him in the middle of the night, or possibly they would summon him with a polite demand that he roll up his sleeve for the injection that would kill him. Itsuki could honestly prefer the latter. Injuries might occur to the specimen if it was surprised unawares.

Was Sayoko meant to be his collar? Or was she meant to be his predetermined death?

Quon's dislike of Version 7.34 had put an end to that brief tenure of domesticity. Itsuki had taught himself how to read his self-appointed sister as one might gauge a piece of music midway through playing, estimating how many notes remained by how intense the current instruments were being wrung. Quon had glanced at Sayoko only once before looking away. When Sayoko had started trying to talk pleasantly to Quon in a clumsy attempt to break the ice, the flower-haired girl had seated herself at the piano and struck the keys for hours to drown out the noise of speech.

The excuse that Itsuki had presented to his gift had been one intended to save face. His sister was used to having a house silent, he'd told Version 7.34. His sister was not familiar with company inside the house she usually practiced in, his sister had strange habits. Again and again, his sister, and Itsuki had smiled with a bland, apologetic enthusiasm through the lies.

In truth, Itsuki was not certain of what he could do with both his charges. There was no doubt in his mind of which would hold dominance--Quon was and always would be the highest priority in all the doctor's work. That which discomforted his sister was regrettable, but could not be harbored for long.

Sayoko was also a gift that had been delivered by Helena. Signed off from the Foundation, true, but Itsuki tended to distrust anything that put such a smile on that woman's face. Helena had looked far too smug when she'd dropped Version 7.34 off. That did not bode well.

Eventually, determining that Sayoko could be either a complex ruse or simply a taunt, Itsuki came to a compromise. Abandoning his gift would have been rude to all parties involved. If the trap centered around cruelty, then being overly fearful of Version 7.34 would be falling just as deep into Helena's plans as if he indulged Sayoko with pity in truth.

There was no perfect option. Either he could make the attempt to trust the gift despite the way she had arrived wrapped on his doorstep, or he could reject her solely based on her origins.

Having two sisters was not as difficult an onus to bear, he finally decided. Certainly, Sayoko was nothing like having to grow up with Helena. It might be that all three of them could live a balance on Nirai-Kanai quite pleasantly before the Foundation beckoned them back home.

Besides. Family was family. That's what they were made for, and only Bahbem knew in the end. Itsuki was a poor imitation of the Founder, but he already knew that being a cheap copy was his own reason for being.

Performing his personal sheet music again and again never made it sound any better. But not every piece was allowed to hold the opening act. Some were allowed to exist only so that they could herald in the better parts, hint at the true crescendo, and in that Itsuki took his peace while he watched Sayoko learn to balance on high heels.