(Saiki sighed, and it was a different sigh from what it would usually be. He would, many times, sigh to express how tired he felt in situations. He would sigh to show he would rather be anywhere else. He would sigh when people implied that he cared about their particular situation when he wanted to hear anything but.

This sigh—this was different. He could feel it in his bones, as if something was grinding down on them (grinding down on him). There was an ache he couldn't place, something beyond the blooming emotions trying to shove their way into his chest like unwelcomed pests. He hated it.

Because he disliked a lot of things . . .

. . . and not knowing what was happening to those around him had to take the very top of that list straight into loathe territory.)

When Saiki wanted to stay home the next day, worrying his mother wasn't what he had in mind.

From the moment he woke up this morning, he felt off. He was sweating an unusual amount to the point in which his pillow could be considered wet. He felt as if he hasn't slept at all with how exhausted he felt. His limbs moved slowly as if they were in molasses.

His mother immediately concluded it as a fever.

However, he didn't feel like it was a fever.

Kusuo woke up dehydrated, forcing himself to take small sips from the water bottle his mother gave him. He was tired and his movements were slow but . . .

He didn't feel sick. No, the word sick wouldn't have been the right description for it. He was tired, not sick. He was dehydrated, with a small headache, and was less perspective than usual. He didn't necessarily feel achy. He felt nauseous but . . . for some reason, him being sick just doesn't sit right with him. It doesn't matter that he shouldn't feel this hot, calling it a fever just wouldn't be right.

Don't as me why, I don't know either.

He groaned as he sat up, having to peel his sheets away from his sweaty body. His clothes weren't much better, almost transparent with the sweat he's racked up overnight. His pink hair stuck to his forehead, creating a shiny sheen over his skin. His skin was also flushed, and his breaths came out uneven.

Why do I feel so hot?

"Good morning—Kusuo!" his mother screeched, pushing his bedroom door open completely and rushing to his bedside. She was alarmed, her hands trembling as she lifted one to his forehead to feel his temperature. "You're burning up."

Saiki fell back on his pillow. He then tried to get up again when he realized how damp and sticky it was—ew. He felt disgusting and needed to take a shower. He feels hot but not quite sick—if that even makes sense. It probably doesn't. The covers on him felt as if they were made of fire. Was being this hot safe? When he tried to move his tongue around in his mouth, it felt like cotton.

So probably not.

"Kusuo, drink something please!" His mother was still frantic, holding up a bottle of water to his lips. "Make sure you're drinking slowly. I'll call your teacher to tell them you won't be here today."

"Kusuo?" his father's head popped in the doorway, the commotion had alerted him. He turned to look at his mother. "He's sick?"

"He's sick!" she cried. "He's ill and dehydrated and—I don't have any medicine beyond painkillers and then—I need to go out and shop!"

"Shop for painkillers?"

"Shop for everything! We need masks since it's spring and allergies are bound to act up and . . . " Kurumi trailed off, frantically searching for her purse only to realize that it was in her hand the whole time. That didn't make her worries ebb, and Kusuo felt the guilt starting to fester in the pit of his stomach. He didn't feel ill (like previously stated, hot and kind of dehydrated) but it would be better to let his mom take care of him than to try to deny it. If he did then who knew how'd she react. (He didn't but he knew it wouldn't have been good.)

"Uh—don't worry Kusuo, I'll be back soon." She stroked her son's face, bit her lip as she felt the heat radiate from his skin, and hurried to put on her shoes.

"Don't worry honey, I'll watch over him while you're out," his dad reassured her.

"Are you sure?" she asked, ready to open the door. "I don't think he'll appreciate the sentiment—of course, I would love it if you took care of me if I was sick, but Kusuo may think otherwise."

"Anything for you," he cooed.

"Aww . . . " She blushed. "Okay, but don't be surprised if he turns down your help. If so, then you can go to work."

"But then I won't be able to see you as much," he was pouting now.

"Aww . . . " They leaned in, ready to seal a kiss when—

"Sorry honey please forgive me." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Kusuo needs medicine, I'll spend time with you later." She hurried off before he could answer.

Kuniharu sighed, disappointed and depressed. After a moment he then smiled, all too enraptured with his wife. If there's anything she valued, it would be her family. With a grin on his face, he sauntered up the steps and opened his son's door.

"Kusuo—"

The door was immediately slammed in his face.

It took a total of ten minutes for Kusuo's dad to stop sulking and leave. Of those ten minutes at least seven of them were spent with him begging Kusuo to open the door, but he never did. He wanted to be alone, and while his dad is a great man . . .

He wasn't the most competent person to be around while being introspective.

Kusuo was now walking down the stairs carefully, trying to not strain himself too much with the task. His throat felt so dry as if the water bottle did nothing to help it. That's probably the case, for his thirst overpowered what pain and discomfort he may feel at the time being. He didn't need to swallow or test his throat to know that it was sore and dry. Okay, so maybe he should've accepted his dad's help and asked for something else to drink. Getting up and walking seemed like it was getting to be more trouble than it was worth.

Eventually, he reached the kitchen. After much consideration, he decided to get some water and a cup of tea because yes, he was that thirsty. Kusuo walked to the cabinets to retrieve the kettle. It was best to make more hot water just in case he wanted more tea.

He set it on the stove after filling it with water and sat on the stool, holding a cup of water filled to the brim with water. It sloshed dangerously as he tilted it up to his parched lips. His mind felt so sluggish he couldn't muster up as many opinions about the situation as he usually would. But before the water could touch his lips—

The cup dropped to the ground—and Kusuo along with it.

Saiki opened his eyes and didn't immediately hear thoughts bombarding his head. He tried to move only to realize his feet were sore. He's been sleeping standing up. His mind worked quickly due to the strange sense of quiet in his head.

However, what's starting to overpower the quiet is the alarm that's saying something was wrong. Saiki didn't usually trust his instincts because he can read people's minds and know their intentions. However, he couldn't this time. Despite the lack of mind-reading, he can still sense the building dread in his stomach. He struggled to recall what happened last, and that just made things worse. He reached forwards for a wall when—

Bam.

He opened his eyes fully, his other hand balled up in a fist to rub his eyes. He saw the glass in front of him. He looked around, seeing that he was currently stuck in a tall glass pod. He sighed through his nose before cracking his knuckles.

And then he proceeded to flick his fingers, trying to summon the barest hint of super strength. It did nothing.

Huh, he thought, looking at the glass pod and then at his hands. So his powers were really gone?

That didn't comfort him in the slightest. Usually, he would be happy with the thought of his powers being (possibly, but he can't hold his standards that high) gone forever. He could live the normal life he's only dreamed of for as long as he can remember. But this . . .

This is bad, and it's not even his brother pulling the strings. Kusuke had too much pride to not come out from the shadows already and make an appearance. There was also that feeling of dread that said it wasn't his brother this time. He can very easily come out now and say something about this being a part of some big, completely unnecessary plan of his. He can say that this was a part of some mind game, and how the glass pod he's currently trapped in some glass pod that took away his powers for as long as he stayed inside (until they inevitably break it, like with everything else) and maybe would want to play a game with him with the hopes that Kusuke himself will win against someone with no powers and no super intelligence like him. It would be typical Kusuke.

It wouldn't be an illogical conclusion, either. Kusuke could just appear right then and now and he wouldn't think anything about it. Who else would be able to trap him without his knowledge nor consent? Unless . . .

Another government organization? he pondered before shrugging. Either way, he would be able to get rid of that easily. After all, he's done it before.

Either way, he would be getting his powers shortly and he can break this glass and go home. Who knows for how long he's been sleeping, and if it's Kusuke then his parents wouldn't be worried, hopefully. He probably passed off some excuse about brotherly bonding and left it at that. Knowing his parents, they probably took the chance to have time to themselves, and—nope, he's not going to imagine that.

Also knowing Kusuke, he was probably going to leave him to stand there until he either broke out or got uncomfortable enough for him to saunter inside and bask in his glory. Good grief.

Sighing quietly to himself to steel his nerves, he raised his hands again and flicked with more force behind it than the previous one. The glass still didn't break. Not even a scratch.

That's kind of annoying, he thought. He started to stretch again, convincing himself that this was all apart of some elaborate game he's trying to get Saiki to play. Well, jokes on him because that's not going to happen. He can just break out. He blinked again until he realized something.

He wasn't wearing his glasses. He brought his hand up to his head, trying to feel for his limiters. Nothing was there. Well, it wouldn't be like Kusuke if he didn't go all out and try his absolute hardest to make this harder than the last challenge he's issued. Saiki should have expected it. And now he probably looked like a fool in front of Kusuke. No doubt he's watching him through some camera, recording it to get whatever kind of advantage over him he can get.

Wait, cameras. He snapped his fingers and started to look around again. Unfortunately, beyond the glass pod, there was only inky blackness. It was weird, not having his powers. Hopefully, they will just come in eventually, and until then he can figure out some other way to get out.

And by figure out, he meant by testing himself by hitting the glass again and again until his super strength came back. Already, it's been an outstandingly longer amount of time than the usual few seconds for them to return. As much as he likes to bask in the sweet, sweet silence and tranquility that came with not having his powers, he would like to do it outside the glass pod, if possible. What are the chances that Kusuke somehow made it so that Saiki wouldn't have his powers while in this building? If only he can apply that at home so he can spend his days in peace.

Saiki perked up at the sound of a door opening. He could hear the squeal of old door hinges, almost grating on his ears with how loud it was. Despite the thoughts running through his head of how logical it would be if it was Kusuke walking through that door right now, the feeling in the pit of his stomach said otherwise. He audibly cleared his throat, schooling his expression. Saiki now looked bored, glaring at whoever was coming from the other side of the glass.

The person who appeared wasn't Kusuke, he knew that much.

What the hell? The dread only grew, but his mind dictated that Kusuke could have gotten someone else to do this for him. Maybe it's a robot.

Saiki gritted his teeth. For the first time since he woke up, he's deciding to listen to his instincts. He currently didn't have precognition, so he just didn't know. If something bad were to happen, then what are the chances he would be able to see it? Not much at all.

Saiki . . . didn't like the odds of this. At all. His earlier theory about it being a possible government organization wasn't completely off the table. His powers can return any second and he'll just get rid of them in a matter of moments.

He flicked the glass again, brushing three of his fingers against it. Still nothing.

The man from the other side of the glass watched his movements with rapt attention. His lips moved but Saiki couldn't see anything. His lips twitched because he wasn't looking at the man with his x-ray vision, despite the seconds that passed. He can see skin and facial features. The man didn't even look naked.

With his restrained shock, it took him a few seconds to fully process what was going on. By the time he recovered, the man turned on the light. Yellow light filled the room, and when Saiki tried to get a good look at the man, he was stopped by a mask on his face. He wore a white lab coat (cue the alarms going off in his head).

Saiki planted his hand on the glass and still nothing. He started rapidly tapping on it lightly. The more the man approached, the more annoyed the expression that was on Saiki's face. The tapping turned into slapping and soon he was punching. The man-made a 'tsk' noise at his fist. No, he couldn't hear it through the glass, but he could tell based on his lips.

Well sorry about not knowing how to punch someone, he thought with no small amount of trepidation. Saiki straightened up and started punching the glass harder. Not even a scratch.

What the hell? The words nearly spilled from his lips with how forceful they felt. There was a surge of annoyance in his chest, but it was soon blossoming into anger, an emotion he didn't know he recognized. It felt as if flowers were blooming in his chest, prickly thorns and stems curling around his ribs and lungs. It felt as if those roots from those flowers stretched into his stomach, pushing down the heavyweight that screamed dread.

Saiki opened his mouth.

"Who are you?" he asked. He knew the words would bounce off the glass and not reach their target, but the man perked up, which meant he can read lips just like him. There was energy buzzing under his skin that was nothing like his powers that usually laid claim to him both mind and soul. Something screaming in his brain, using his chest like a drum as his heart started to beat. And beat it did, with an energy he didn't like acknowledging.

He took a deep breath through his nose, feeling his lungs stretch before he released. The sense of complete, utter wrongness nearly sang, almost screeching like the cries of the human mind (he could hear it sometimes, the screams of people when emotions would take them over completely) when stretched to its limits.

And then, also unlike Saiki, he scowled. He wasn't an expressive person by any means, but this called for it. The energy flowing through him rushed and was boiling. He knew this was something called anger, something that caused his fingers to twitch. Something that made him recognize the cold emptiness of his body and mind when his powers weren't there. How he couldn't remember what happened last no matter how hard he tried. He still couldn't see what the man looked like, but the moment he could he won't stop until their entire organization is destroyed.

He feels dread and anger but doesn't act upon it. The glass is keeping him contained and—

—and suddenly the glass pod popped open, cold air meeting him almost immediately. It has been opened. But before he could do anything a hand was on his shoulder. He could only see how the man was stepping away from him, and there was something else whose face he couldn't see and—

Saiki didn't scream. Instead, he froze.

He froze for all his worth. He froze because the cold emptiness felt blistering, the feeling so cold that it burned; it burned in a different way than his anger did. The dread and prickling flowers froze, shriveling and dying. His powers—

The man with no face put his hands on his face. Saiki was paralyzed. He needed to trust his instincts and of that's the case then . . .

"What did you do?" His words were slurred.

The man with no face hummed. The man with the labcoat twitched with barely contained excitement. The man with no face cupped his cheek and another feeling of heaviness surged through him. He couldn't move. Paralyzed from his toes to his fingers to his face. He couldn't talk either.

Saiki knew that this guy was old in an unnatural way. He can feel the power flowing through his veins, all filtered in his core. In a way that was as twisted as much as—as—

His friends. He couldn't recall names.

There was another surge going through him. This time his vision started blurring, colors and shapes fraying at the edges. There were explosions of onyx in his vision, his surroundings seeping away from him. His fingers twitched because to hell with being paralyzed.

The man chuckled.

And then something tore through him. Tore through in a way that made it seem like his very atoms were splitting apart and were setting explosions as his muscles shredded and his bones snapped and his heart was cut into hundreds of thousands of pieces before failing.

He let himself close his eyes because the man looked amused when he asked what did he do. Saiki just asked what he did.

Not what he did to him.

Not what he did to his family.

Not what he did to—dare he say it—his friends.

Because between the churning in his stomach, the cold in his bones, and the pain in every molecule of his being, he came to one conclusion.

The man wanted Saiki in particular.

And he doesn't care what he does to those around him, he just wanted him.

Kusuo felt cold until he opened his eyes. When he did open his eyes, he felt as if he was on fire.

His mother was also screaming his name.

"KUSUO!"

The pink-haired boy opened his eyes and sat up, realizing that he was lying on the floor. The side of his shirt was wet. He looked over and saw his spilled cup. He can also hear his mother turning off the kettle to the stove. At that moment he noticed the high-pitched squealing piercing the air. He also saw a small bag on the counter.

Oh, so she's finished shopping, he thought. He tried to get up when she pushed him to the floor again.

"Don't worry, I'll just