Chapter Text
Chishiya was an expert on lots of things, but specifically the human psyche.
To put it simply, he knew more things than the average person. Things from his childhood. The alphabet, simple math, how to hold a pencil. The way his peers brains worked and the proper way to perform manners, how to fit in and how to not fit in, and how to decide which route to take. What sort of things get you ostracized and what sort of things get you accepted. Things from his college days. Chemistry, physics, biology; calculus, algebra, geometry; but also anatomy, physiology, and psychology. Things from his days in the hospital. The different ways people handled grief and joy. How stark the contrast between children and adults was. How generous people could be, and also how cruel. The difference between true ideals, and a supposed act of morality. (Neither of which he indulged in, of course). It was what let him thrive in med school, and what let him survive in the hospital where he was an intern.
If he was capable of feeling pride, he would’ve prided himself on this fact. He knew how everyone worked, and understood everything from their DNA makeup to their cellular structures to their rationales. In fact, his knowledge of humanity extended so far that he even understood himself, utterly and totally. He was one of the only people he had ever met who could truly say that they understood themselves in every capacity. He knew himself inside and out. This was, perhaps, the only fallback to his disposition. Because he knew himself so well, there was no room to change or grow. He would always be stuck the way he was. An example to the rest of the world.
The universe had probably made some sort of divine trade when he was born. If destiny existed, then he’d been destined to be like this. The control variable in the experiment of life. Completely devoid of emotion and ideals, to be a model for the rest of the world to learn from. In exchange, probably out of pity, he’d been given the ability to know everything. His existence was an example for the rest of the world to learn from, but in exchange, he didn’t have to learn anything. It was a pretty good deal, he had decided, all things said and done. Not a terrible exchange. It did give him the ability to analyze himself from an objective point of view.
Which leads him to a final point: it was uncommon- no, extremely uncommon- no, completely unprecedented for anyone to make him think about himself in a new way. He’d explored every route, exhausted every question he had for himself to the point where there was nothing new to discover about himself.
And yet.
***
Chishiya had a clearly defined schedule each semester. Classes started at 7, going until 3, then he would take up his shift at the hospital until midnight, five days a week. Saturdays were full hospital shifts, 8 to 4, where he would spend the evening studying. Sundays were spent studying. Day in. Day out. It felt trite to say his life felt boring, because frankly, he didn’t feel much about his life. It was what it was. There weren’t any specific aspects of it that he despised, nor any that he loved. He could picture his future, down to the exact date he would retire. Frankly, not a bad way to go. His graduate classes were mind-numbing, for the most part, but there was just enough new content that he’d have to study. His professors were intelligent people and his hospital managers were efficient, so he had no complaints, and if he did have any, he was smart enough not to voice them. He could either put effort into trying to succeed or put effort into trying to fail. It seemed pretty pointless to try and fail, so he chose the obvious route. Besides, knowing what each and every day held was a privilege that many didn’t have, and he knew that.
Which was why it was all the more confusing when his schedule for the new semester very clearly read, Sculpting 101, Room 1113. He stood in front of the printer, narrowing his eyes for a moment of hesitation. It must’ve printed out the wrong schedule, damn thing- but when his eyes flicked up to the top right name, the characters for his name were unmistakable. He glanced back down, and yes, the rest of the classes were correct based on what he had registered for. The only difference was that, where there should’ve been a biochemistry lab, Sculpting 101 very firmly took its place.
With a sigh at the hassle, he tucked the paper in his pocket and made the quick venture over to the next building where the Student Information desks lurked in the main lobby. He’d never had to talk to these people before, always able to handle his own schedule, but since it’s the first day and the scheduling software is closed, he doesn’t exactly have another choice. What a pain.
“Name?” The young secretary asked without even glancing up from her screen. “Business?”
“There’s a problem with my schedule,” he answered after spelling out his name for her. She peered at the monitor, tilting down her glasses to glance up at him. He could read her like an open book. 26, maybe 27 years old, eyes on a professor’s position but holed up in a lowly secretary position for the time being, much to her resentment. Too competent for the position, and took it out on anyone who approached her.
“Looks like it all works out. What seems to be the problem?” Holding back a laugh, he pointed at his slot for the day.
“I did not sign up for that class.”
“If you did not meet the new credit requirements, there were changes made to your schedule on your behalf,” she answered in a monotone voice. “Due to professor staffing issues, these changes are non-negotiable for the time being. Is that all?”
“I’m a med student,” he responded as if that would explain it all. She glanced up at the ceiling as if praying for divine assistance and then turned back to face him fully.
“Mr. Sunataro,”
“Shuntaro.”
“Mr. Shinharo, I’m afraid if your schedule didn’t meet the fine arts credits this establishment requires, the changes are non-negotiable. If you’d like, you can file an appeal to the Office of Student Affairs, who will get back to you in 7-10 business days” She gestured at an office to their left that looked as though it hadn’t been opened, much less functional, since the Ice Age. He turned back to her with a fake smile.
“I guess I’ll just have to stick with sculpting then,” he relented sarcastically. She returned the passive-aggressive smirk.
“I suppose so. Good day.”
Chishiya had never been in the Fine Arts Department, but it wasn’t hard to identify. The building was decaying, highlighting the university’s issues that ran much deeper than a snarky front office lady. The stream of interesting-looking people through the front door was also a strong indicator that he was heading in the right direction. Inside, it didn’t take him long to locate the sculpting room, slipping in the room minutes before the lecture began. He scanned the room, expecting to see other med students who got lumped in with him, but he appeared to be alone. Everyone else seemed to know the room, each other, or at least the material. They weren’t his usual subjects of patients or other med students, but they were just as easy to read. Art students were inherently selfish and fake, as much obsessed with crafting their image as they were their questionable pieces of ‘art.’ All graduate students had their flaws, but the fact of the matter was that Chishiya had absolutely nothing in common with any of them, not even on a surface level. Some had already identified him as the outlier, but they were a bit too wrapped up in themselves to pay much attention to him. That was fine with Chishiya.
The red-haired professor came in and started giving an introductory assignment, but he didn’t really listen. She was a bit more interesting to analyze, but he had her figured out in about fifteen seconds. Young, genuinely strange, and genuinely hoping to change the world for the better by influencing the next generation of artists in ‘unconventional and interactive ways.’ Different, but still a pain to deal with. All this ran through his mind until a single particular sentence caught his attention, and he stirred slightly where he was sitting.
“You will decide your own partner for the entire semester. Make sure you choose somebody to help you, as they will be your reference, your guide, and just another set of eyes. They will also be your model on multiple occasions, so choose somebody whose body you are comfortable with!” With that, the class erupted into mumbles and mutters, as if they were in high school again. Chishiya couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he watched boys with twitching hands start to let their eyes roam the room, and people who were standing alone start to fidget awkwardly amongst themselves. Just as he was about to see if he could find some sort of loophole where he either worked by himself or, preferably, could leave the class, he was stopped by a figure stepping into his way.
“Do you mind?” He glanced up- and he did mean up- to see a tall girl in front of him, looking down at him without any hostility or demand, just genuine curiosity. She was tan-skinned and wore a cropped blue shirt that matched the pieces of fabric in her long black locs.
“Do I mind if what?” He found himself forming the words before he could think of them, but the only sign of amusement she gave was a quick crease in the corners of her eyes.
“I think you know what I mean,” she responded without a condescending tone.
“I suppose I don’t have much of another chance,” he responded, raising his hands in mock surrender. She shrugged, rolling his words off her shoulders.
“Speak now or forever hold your peace, partner.” He pretended to think for a moment, the liveliness of the banter pulling his lips up in a smirk, revealing himself.
“I’m Chishiya Shuntaro, partner,” he replied in a pleasant tone, offering out his hand. She took it and shook- firm, but not too firm, which took him by surprise. Only absent fathers teach their sons how to shake hands properly, and this girl looked like she had neither of those qualities.
“Kuina Hikari,” she responded, and then, after thinking, added, “partner.” With that, she settled into the seat next to him, and became so absorbed in the syllabus review that it appeared she had forgotten he was there. He kept a careful eye on her during the entire class period, but by the time the lecture ended, he decided there was no hostility in her actions- only a genuine authenticity that was rare to come by. She took notes authentically, she exchanged numbers authentically, and she gave him a quick nod as goodbye authentically.
It wasn’t until he arrived at his next class when he realized the banter had distracted him from a very unusual fact:
Kuina Hikari had caught him off guard, made him her partner, and exchanged numbers with him all while he was too absorbed with her sudden appearance. Kuina Hikari had caught him off guard and exchanged numbers with him. When he glanced down at his phone screen, he realized that two immovable facts about himself had just been irreversibly shaken.
- Nobody had ever genuinely caught him off guard. He had always been one step ahead, analyzing people before they even opened their mouths, but this girl had turned him into her partner (and thus tied him to a class he had no interest in) like it was second nature to her. And, more interestingly-
- He now had three numbers in his phone. His father’s- a contact number that had never been touched since he bought the device. His manager’s- a contact number that had only been contacted one way, as he was called to pick up extra shifts. And now. Kuina Hikari.
Of course, there was nothing especially different about her. She was not a rare or extraordinary person from what he could tell, no outlier. But something was different.
One thing was for certain. There was something off in the way his brain functioned about Kuina Hikari, and it was for the first time in his life, the only foreign part of his mind to him. And he would simply have to get to the bottom of it.