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Chapter Text

Act 1 Scene 1

It was a night rife with roaring thunders and howling tempest in which two young men met at a park and conspired. It was not a night in which ordinary, sensible people venture outdoors, and indeed the two young men were anything but ordinary, for one was a super genius and the other a superbly popular actor. Furthermore, both harboured an unhealthy obsession towards their own younger siblings.

What led to such a worrisome meeting? Was it pure coincidence? Or was it an act by the divine powers? Or was it a Machiavellian mechanisation of the Dark Reunion?

Saiki Kusuke was strolling in that park when he stumbled upon a seething Teruhashi Makoto. Kusuke first heard the footsteps, and then snapped his head to the direction of the sound. The darkness of the night had prevented him from identifying the being that made the sound, but a lightning flash conveniently arrived and briefly illuminated the park, revealing the horrid form of Teruhashi Makoto.

Teruhashi Makoto had bloodshot eyes, popped veins, and dishevelled hair; tears, snot and saliva streamed out of his facial orifices like the Niagara falls. He bumbled with the purposefulness of a drunkard and the liveliness of a zombie while his clothes reeked of vomit and something that resembled a cockroach leg was on his cheek.

There was a sound of thunder.

And so they met, just according to plan. The Teruhashi Makoto at that park was quite a stark contrast to the charming, suave and composed personality of the actor Mugami Touru, but his distraught state would work in the favour of Kusuke.

“Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything.” Kusuke could not help but smirk.

“Good evening, what a night this is! Oh dear, aren’t you Mugami Touru?”

The said actor slowly raised an accusing finger at Kusuke, all the while glaring at him with intoxicated eyes, and then slurred—

“Whuuattt are u doin’ in Kokkkooooomi’s paaaarrrrkkk???”

“You look mightily distressed! Let us sit down and talk, it might make you feel better.” Kusuke flashed his angelic smile that charmed all but Kusuo and then grabbed the actor’s limp arms, dragging him to the nearest bench illuminated by a lone lamppost.

As soon as they sat down the actor blew his nose with his bare left hand, and when the actor’s left hand left his nose a thick, yellowish slime of mucus, glued at both ends to his nostril and his thumb, stretched out as if it was resistant to the force of gravity—not dissimilar to the manner of stretched cheese when one takes a slice of pizza. Kusuke, fighting the urge to recoil in disgust, offered the distraught actor a pack of tissue paper. The actor snatched the pack and wiped his hand and nose with the pack itself without opening it, coating the pack in a yellow sludge, although the tissue paper inside was probably clean. Then the actor opened his mouth to speak—sobbing words punctuated by ragged breathing.

Teruhashi Makoto, in his distressed and vulnerable state, had forgotten to ask for Saiki Kusuke’s identity and the fact that Kusuke did not reply to his earlier question. Teruhashi Makoto, in his distressed and vulnerable state, told a complete stranger his heart-breaking tale of being rejected by his sister.

Earlier that day, the actor returned home after an exhausting and disastrous day at filming ended prematurely. Teruhashi Makoto had a really miserable day, starting in the morning; on his way to work he stepped on a brown pile of rancid mush known as anteater poop. Makoto was not looking down on the road, for he was the kind who held his head up proudly, when he suddenly heard a noise that squished and plopped. He lowered his head, and to his abject horror, his beloved sneaker (a birthday present from his sister) was covered in a pungent brown stain, a stain not dissimilar to a chocolate left in the fridge for ten years.

“Why can’t the anteater poop be Kokomi’s!?!?” was the actor’s outburst as he recalled that shocking moment of discovery.

“How did he know it was an anteater poop?” the super genius wondered.

Having stepped on the poop, the actor then lifted his head skyward and screamed at his misfortune, only to receive a reply in the form of a bird dropping into his mouth, straight down the oesophagus. According to the actor, the bird dropping apparently had little flavour, and felt more like a wet glob of grainy dirt.

“I wish that thing came from Kokomi!” Makoto commented when he recalled swallowing bird excretion.

“I wonder if the author tasted bird shit before?”

That was only the beginning of his misery, during lunchtime fans kept disturbing his meal time despite the fact that his feet stank to high heaven after stepping on the anteater excrement, and their spittle landed on his food as they excitedly chanted his stage name. According to the actor, the human spittle had no taste.

“Why aren’t those Kokoooomi’s???” Teruhashi Makoto cried as he recalled that moment in his woeful day.

When Makoto checked his fan mails after lunch, he found a terrible letter. As he read through the letter, he felt his blood boil, he felt the world around him was trembling, and before he knew it he tore the letter into pieces.

The letter contained a photo of his beloved beautiful beautiful BEAUTIFUL sister Teruhashi Kokomi, a photo depicting her in school and she was clearly not posing for it—an unauthorised photo. The letter, with scrawny twisted barely-legible handwriting, reads: “I CAN TEL [sic] YU [sic] R [sic] A [insert unintelligible text] AND YUR [sic] SISTER WILL BE MINE!!!!!!!” The letter was anonymous.

“THIS OBNOXIOUS ASSHOLE WRITES IN ALL CAPS! HOW COULD HE!? ALSO THIS CREEPY SICK BASTARD IS TAKING PHOTO OF MY SISTER AND SAYS SHE WILL BE HIS! CREEPY SICK BASTARD! MY SISTER WILL ALWAYS BE MINE AND I WILL MARRY HER!!! YOU WILL NOT GET YOUR WAY YOU SICK EVIL TRASH SMELLY CREEPY ROTTING BASTARD WHOEVER YOU ARE!!!” the enraged actor stood up suddenly and abruptly bellowed like a thunderstorm, with his veins bulging and his facial muscles contorting in apoplexy, before sinking back into his chair from exhaustion.

Makoto continued his story. Kusuke barely managed to suppress his laughter at the actor’s outburst.  

In the afternoon an assistant director with a sensitive nose vomited onto him after greeting him in the hallway, decorating the actor’s shirt with a stinking orange pulp of half-digested food and gastric acid; judging from the vomit, the assistant director probably ate prawn noodles for lunch, the actor informed Kusuke. Disgusted and shocked Makoto ran away only to step on a banana peel. The banana peel, for some ungodly reason, had a cockroach on it. Thus, Teruhashi Makoto not only stepped on a banana peel after having vomit spewed onto him, but he simultaneously stepped onto a cockroach. First he heard a crunch sound, not dissimilar to the sound of crunching on potato chips, and then he slipped. As he slipped his leg that stepped on the things kicked out, flinging the banana peel and the flattened cockroach carcass high up in the air. Makoto landed with his back on the floor, and then the flattened dead cockroach landed squarely on his handsome face.

“Does this author hate this character?!”

Teruhashi Makoto felt cold sticky cockroach body liquid trickle down his cheek and screamed. Traumatised, Teruhashi Makoto ran away from the filming. That was why he returned home earlier that day.

Being home, Teruhashi Makoto sought out the closest source of comfort at his home. It was not his sister, since she was at school, instead he went in her room and snuggled in her bed, while still wearing his vomit-stained clothes as well as having a cockroach leg and a portion of its crushed abdomen from that dead cockroach stubbornly stuck on his face.

Then the actor found something even more wonderful, when he laid his eyes on it the thing brightened up the whole room with its golden glow. The thing, lying on Kokomi’s bed, was a used panty. Makoto picked it up, cradling it with his cupped hand as if it was a nugget of gold. According to the actor, the piece of undergarment was of a clean white design with simple frills along the edges, it was also caked in a crimson shade of dried blood with a curly strand of body hair sticking on it.

“Is this supposed to be a gross-out story?! Good thing this is just a piece of fan work, if not this kind of shit would probably get The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. removed from Jump!!” Kusuke cringed.

Honestly Kusuke wished the actor would spare him with unnecessary details like these, but after sitting through the torturous process of listening to the stupid actor ranting about a bad day, the actor was finally getting to the important part—a part which would allow Kusuke to enlist Teruhashi Makoto into a mission against Saiki Kusuo.

Teruhashi Makoto implicitly knew the panty’s owner as well as the source and nature of that blood, so with his body trembling and sweating……he did some terrible, inappropriate, and disgusting things to it. Sometimes having less detail is for the better.

“Even the author is disgusted with the direction the story is heading.”

As the saying goes, time flies when you are having fun; the actor was indulged in his own little heaven, way too indulged, when his sister the renowned and universally admired beauty Teruhashi Kokomi returned to her own room from school.

There was a blood-curdling scream, a desperate love confession, a shriek of unadulterated abhorrence, an awkward attempt at physical displays of affection, a kick to the shin, and finally an exclamation that Saiki Kusuo was a much better man than Teruhashi Makoto.

It was all over in a matter of seconds. A profoundly disturbed and unsettled Teruhashi Kokomi, who momentarily lost her goddess lustre, stormed out of her own room with goose bumps all over her. Her brother Makoto was left crestfallen and distraught in the room; that horrible day had culminated in his sister’s rejection of his love. Consequently, Teruhashi Makoto haggardly stumbled to the park, all the while crying, and that was how he encountered Saiki Kusuke.

Everything was going as planned. Teruhashi Makoto was a man exactly as Kusuke had expected him to be—an emotionally vulnerable, deluded, and incorrigible siscon. He was honestly surprised none of the actor’s family members appeared to be aware of the actor’s obsession.

Kusuke was the sender of the letter which Makoto tore apart; Kusuke certainly did not mean what he wrote, he was not attracted to Teruhashi Kokomi because she was too dumb appeal to him, not that he would ever tell the truth to Makoto. He only wrote the letter to unsettle Makoto, convincing the actor the graveness of a non-existent threat and thus open the actor to his influence. From listening to the actor ranting about his day, it was crystal clear Kusuke’s letter worked well.

The genius had extensively profiled the Teruhashi siblings as part of his planning, just as he had meticulously profiled the other personalities surrounding his brother Kusuo.

Nothing could escape a conscientious schemer like Kusuke.

Kusuke knew Kokomi was enamoured with his little brother Kusuo, which would inevitably become a source of conflict between the Teruhashi siblings as the elder was a possessive creep. In fact, the elder was under the impression that Kusuo harboured a crush on his sister, and had apparently warned Kusuo to stay away from her. However, Makoto did not consider Kusuo a serious threat, since he was under the delusion that his sister did not have a crush on Kusuo and he would eventually be able to marry her.

Another source of conflict was Makoto’s unhealthy tendency to sneak into his sister’s room. Either conflict, most likely culminating in the form of an argument, would result in an emotionally vulnerable Makoto who finally perceived Saiki Kusuo to be his love rival; furthermore the perception would be reinforced with anonymous letter which Makoto would likely assume to be written by Kusuo, making Makoto a perfect pawn.

The best way for the conflicts to happen was to make Kokomi catch Makoto sneaking into her room, according to her profile the girl would most likely complain about her brother’s behaviour and compare her brother unfavourably to Saiki Kusuo.

However, conflicts do not always break out at the time you need it, so Kusuke maximised the chances of both conflicts occurring together that day by sending the anonymous letter to upset the actor. On the day the actor was filming a scene involving him sneaking into a girl’s room, which would function as a subconscious suggestion on what to do when he was upset; he already had a tendency to do it to his sister, filming that scene only reminded him to do it again.

It all worked.

Having obtained an emotionally vulnerable Makoto, the next logical step was to meet him. Meeting and talking to a famous stranger like him without making him wary of Kusuke’s designs was a little tricky, nonetheless Kusuke managed it and Kusuke was certain Makoto regarded this encounter as nothing more than a coincidence. Kusuke, having investigated the Teruhashi siblings thoroughly, knew the park was a place of childhood memories for the Teruhahsi siblings as they used to play there, so Makoto would likely visit the park to mend his shattered soul by reminiscing the old times.

Indeed he did.

Kusuke had set up surveillance cameras and wiretapped the Teruhashi household to know the exact moment when what he wanted transpires. So when it finally transpired, the genius used his self-made jetpack to quickly make his way to that park in order to meet Teruhashi Makoto who was in a distressed and vulnerable state and thus open to manipulation. Kusuke would then work his magic to whet Teruhashi Makoto into an instrument in Kusuke’s enterprise against Saiki Kusuo.

All these efforts for the sake of a single pawn.

If Kusuke simply approached Makoto without any prior manipulation and try to persuade the actor to support his plans, Kusuke would most likely fail because the actor would not be sufficiently motivated to support him.

Another problem was how Makoto might react if Kusuke admitted his relationship with Kusuo, the actor could be wary and be unwilling to support his plan, and so Kusuke decided it was safer to simply not tell Makoto his true identity.

On a side note, the anteater poop, the spittle, the vomit, the banana and the cockroach were not Kusuke’s doings, the actor simply had bad luck that day.

As Makoto finished his tale, he whimpered, “At that moment the way she looked at me…It was horrible! Horrible horrible horrible! She looked at me as if I am some kind of trash…”

“I know that feeling man…” Kusuke patted Makoto on the back as he recalled how Kusuo had always eyed him disdainfully in their younger days.

“How could you understand….”

“I am an older brother too.”

There was a sound of thunder.

Makoto cringed and cowered from the thunderclap, and then muttered in a weak, trembling voice, “Oh the weather is horrible! Like how I am feeling now! I should have known something so terrible would happen, thinking back the anteater poop, the cockroach and everything…those were the warnings!”

Kusuke had somewhat expected such a fearful reaction to the weather, for he knew Makoto was something of a coward, but he also knew the actor disliked being seen as one, and so he could provoke the actor to take bold actions just to prevent being viewed as a weak coward.

The genius abruptly jumped from his seat and stood up. He lifted his head and gazed at the crackling night sky, he then dramatically spread out his arms and declared, “Only weak men allow themselves to be intimidated by strange wonders of the night. For myself, I find it to be a very pleasing night, which was why I strolled to this park. Strong men—the righteous and the honourable, do not let themselves to be browbeat into submission by mere weathers, instead they steel themselves and bravely confront challenges! Men at some time are masters of their fates, the faults in our lives are not preordained by powers unseen, they occur because of our inaction!”

“Weak men…strong men…confront the challenges…masters of their fates…inaction…” still cowering, the actor mumbled as if in a trance.

Kusuke paused momentarily to see if his speech had been sufficient to rouse a reaction, and noticed the actor’s mumbling—his speech had hit the right spots, “I am on track.”

So Kusuke continued, “Einstein once said, ‘the world is a dangerous place to live; not because of the people who are evil, but because of the people who don't do anything about it’,” Kusuke patted Makoto on the back as he spoke, “but for us to take action, we first need to know to whom we take it to.”

Makoto stopped cowering and lifted his head to look at Kusuke.

“Perhaps a man responsible for your current predicament, a man no worthier than yourself yet prodigiously grown in your sister’s heart, a man who taunted you with letters, a man most dreadful like this thunderous night—”

“Saiki Kusuo. The four-eyed pervert brat.” Teruhashi Makoto uttered suddenly and evenly as he slowly rose from the bench.

The actor appeared to be a much calmer man at that moment; his tears and snot and saliva had stopped flowing, his bulging veins subsided, his eyes were sharp and no longer bloodshot, though the cockroach leg was still on his face. In fact, he looked almost as if he attained an epiphany.

Kusuke smiled thinly at the response.

“Time to throw another bait.”

“It is almost as if some unseen powers made us meet, egging us to take action.” Kusuke said calmly, “Saiki Kusuo is a name I am familiar with, for that bastard had just deflowered my sister and then–”

The genius paused.

Teruhahi Makoto looked anxiously and expectantly at Saiki Kusuke.

“He DUMPED HER!!!” Kusuke roared.

There was a sound of thunder.

“That is horrible! I am strong and brave! I must defend my sister’s honour!” the actor declared in a fit of bravado.

Teruhashi Makoto took that bait; in fact, he had taken all the baits, hook line and sinker. Kusuke was not a professional actor like Makoto, but he was good enough to fool a professional actor.

“Then let me help you in this noble enterprise, it is said that the enemy of my enemy is my friend! As a matter of fact, I have a rough idea of how we can seek to redress this error, and right what was wronged!”

Kusuke extended his hand to Makoto, Makoto shook it.

Both men wore a grin on their face that would have scared a serial killer, and then suddenly they both burst out in crackling shrill laughter, bearing their teeth likes apes.

Teruhashi Makoto, in his excited state, had forgotten to ask the name of the stranger he formed an alliance with. Later, Kusuke would probably have to give Makoto a fake name and a fake story of a fake sister, but that would be a walk in the park.

A dimwit like Makoto was easy to fool. Kusuke honestly felt his speech to Makoto was quite unimpressive and perhaps a bit too bombastic, but he moved Makoto nonetheless.

“As expected of a monkey”

Teruhashi Makoto loved his sister very much; it was a love that transcends above all else, a love so wrong yet felt so right, and a love that had gradually consumed him over the years until it became his only identity, his only world, his only reason for living. The four-eyed brat Saiki Kusuo, who had bewitched his beloved sister, was threatening to crumble his world. Kokomi had hurt him bad that day, Makoto could felt his painful heart bleeding, but even then he still loved her. Makoto had arrived at the conclusion that the true cause of all his grief was that four-eyed brat, and he must take action—or else he would bleed to death and die in a pool of sorrowful blood.

Saiki Kusuke was gifted with an IQ of 218, but he was condemned to have an esper little brother called Kusuo. Kusuke was a super genius, but only a wretched creature next to the God that was Kusuo. Kusuo bestrode Kusuke’s world like a Colossus, and Kusuke the petty man could only walk under his huge legs and peep about beneath his shadows. One of the worst feelings any man can experience is the bitterness of being bested by his little brother, and Kusuke has been drowning and suffocating in that bitterness for all his life. No matter what brilliant feat Kusuke achieved after a lot of hard work, Kusuo could effortlessly conjure something more majestic using superpowers; Kusuke had challenged Kusuo countless times to various forms of matches and competitions for the past sixteen years, and every time Kusuo would ensure his big brother suffer a humiliating defeat at the hands of his superpowers. Kusuo had slashed at his brother’s pride with his dagger-like psychic powers with every victory the esper boy attained, and then after every victory Kusuo would wonder why his brother’s pride was bleeding. Kusuke pride, servile to Kusuo’s powers, was whipped mercilessly like a bondman—it had hurt and bled until the pain was too unbearable and the slave decided to stage a revolt. Chafing and smarting under an inferiority complex induced by his esper brother, Kusuke, armed with nothing but his craftiness, was determined to score a victory against the omnipotent and invincible Kusuo once and for all, and he would not be playing fair this time—or else he would die in bondage of Kusuo’s greatness.

“Kokomi, you will be Onii-chan’s soon!”

“Kusuo, I have no superpowers, but I will beat you with my wit!”

There was a sound of thunder.

Chapter Text

Act 1 Scene 2

Saiki Kusuke inspected himself in front the toilet mirror; impeccably dressed in a grey suit and with his hair neatly combed, he looked ready for the formal occasion. He flashed his wonderful smile at the mirror, and his reflection smiled back at him.

“You can do this.”

After that self-assurance, Kusuke waltzed out of the toilet, into the blinding light of the gala hall.

Gala dinners hosted by the great, mighty and colossal Saiko conglomerate were few of the social events that Saiko Metori could enjoy himself, for he could never enjoy those Karaoke gatherings of his petty peasant classmates, or for that matter, any form of social events that include pathetic plebeians—the likes of his classmates at PK academy, grimes of the capitalist world.

The elites amongst elites from the nation and all around the world—magnates, plutocrats, statesmen, oligarchs, aristocracies, were all gathered in this grand hall, socialising over exquisite food. The atmosphere of success and wealth was palpable, for successful, wealthy and significant individuals who left indelible marks on mankind’s history were all present in the gala, in addition to their family members; Metori, being the scion of the Saiko conglomerate, felt at home there.

There was the CEO of that transnational automotive corporation noted for cheating on diesel emissions testing, and there was the chairman of that multinational electronics company renowned for their exploding smartphones, and there was the chairman of that petroleum company remembered for spilling petroleum into the Gulf of Mexico, and there was the CEO of that offshore law firm which has had its 11.5 million files leaked to the media and there was a former CEO of that car company which had faulty ignition switches that killed more than a hundred people, and there was the chairman of that safety system company which made airbags that killed people too, also, there was the CEO of that transnational technology corporation famous for courageously removing the headphone jack from their smartphones. Do you know their names? Metori knew all of them by name, and of course he won’t tell you their names you poor peasant!

Furthermore, there was the author of that manga The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. which received an anime adaptation. Wait a minute; Metori probably identified that person wrongly, for there was no way a lowly manga author would be invited to such a sacred occasion reserved for the greats of the world.

“Or perhaps the writer was ham-fistedly trying to insert a cameo there.” Metori thought.

However, the sight of one young man had somewhat blemished Metori’s enjoyment of the night. Metori was trying to strike a conversation with a young lady, hoping that he would have more luck with this girl than Teruhashi Kokomi, and to distract himself from the pain of failing to woe Kokomi with his money. The young lady smiled pleasantly at his words and offered diplomatic replies, but his conversation with her went to nowhere. Metori knew with frustration that despite the seemingly positive reaction he earned, and despite the fact that he was the great scion of the legendary Saiko conglomerate, the young lady was not interested in him in the slightest. Then a cacophony of loud laughter distracted the scion, he turned to face the source of the laughter, and seeing the source irked him greatly. To add insult to injury, by the time he turned back to face the young lady he was trying to impress, she was no longer there.

The source of the laughter came from a man surrounded by several women. That in itself was not necessarily unusual or offensive, since some of the personalities attending the gala dinner were playboys. Instead, what irked him greatly was the suit the man was wearing, it was a grey suit of the cheapest variety typically worn by overworked-to-the-brink-of-death salarymen from the lowest rung of the corporate ladder.

To wear such a suit to this gala dinner was not only an insult to the event, but also an insult to all other participants and of course to the Saiko conglomerate. Just to further rub salt into Metori’s wounded pride, the man in the peasant suit was somehow more popular with women than the great scion of the majestic Saiko conglomerate. Even if Metori begrudgingly admit the man dressed decently well, a peasant suit was still a peasant suit.

“How can such a tasteless peasant be invited to this event!? Can’t these stupid women tell that this man is a peasant!? Or an insolent cheapskate who can’t be bothered to wear a nicer suit!?”  the scion screamed wordlessly.

Flared up by the sight of the man in the grey suit, Metori stalked towards him without even thinking what he would do or say to him, but soon Metori stopped dead in his tracks. The man was surrounded by wealthy, beautiful women, and they were all happily laughing and blushing at his words, hell, each of the man’s arms was resting on a voluptuous foreign woman's shoulders. They were a bright, cheerful group, while Metori was a lone, sullen figure. It was the first time Metori genuinely felt inferior to another man. After staring at them for a while, Metori retreated to the caviar corner of the dinner buffet to lick his wounded pride—by angrily stuffing spoonful after spoonful of albino sturgeon caviar into his mouth, puffing up his cheek until he looked like a chipmunk.

“Hello, are you Kusuo’s friend?”

The sudden voice broke Metori out of his trance of ravenous wound-licking. Surprised, the scion spat a mouthful of expensive chewed albino sturgeon caviar, which having been partially chewed by rich boy teeth and partially digested by rich boy saliva looked like a thick yellow paste of mucus, unto his table. Coughing, the boy weakly turned to the direction of the voice, all the while oblivious to the disdainful look that the other guests were shooting at him, and then frothed at the mouth and fell off his chair.

“Are you okay?”

The voice belonged the man in the grey suit.

With all semblance of dignity robbed from him, Metori weakly climbed back to his chair and glared at the man in the grey suit. The man in the grey suit appeared surprisingly youthful, with lime-gold hair and bangs long enough to almost cover one of his eyes. Moderately handsome in a pretty boy kind of way rather than a masculine kind of way, his appearance was not sufficient to justify why women surrounded him, especially when his attire reeked of poverty. More confoundingly, why did this popular man approach a loner like Metori? Also, who the hell was “Kusuo”? That name sounded familiar…….

Of all the questions that flooded the young scion’s mind, the first question that left his mouth was, “How can a dirt poor grimy peasant scum like you be in this party!? Are you even invited to be here? I should call the security—”

The man in the grey suit cut the scion off with a loud chuckle, seemingly unoffended by Metori’s insult, which made Metori angry. After the man’s laughter subsided, he spoke too.

“Now boy, did you lost your manner amidst the sea of money you got?” the man sounded more amused than offended, which only made Metori angrier.

“A peasant like you is undeserving of respect from the great scion of the great Saiko conglomerate.”

“Is that so? Anyway, how rude of me to not introduce myself! My name is Saiki Kusuke, I have been cordially invited by your father to attend this event.” In one fluid motion, the man produced his invitation card and showed it to Metori.

Metori’s lips twisted and spasmed in speechless agony.

“I wrote a new algorithm which greatly lowered the cost of production for various businesses under the Saiko conglomerate. I also designed a new high-functioning pace-maker which saved your great aunt’s life.”

The man was really good at pushing his buttons. First the man womanised in his presence while wearing a cheap suit, and then the man remained unflappable in face of his insults.

“That does not change the fact that you are dirt poor. Your suit shows.” Metori could only attack the man’s suit.

“Oh pardon me. Regrettably I am indeed dirt poor, at least relative to your family. However, money is not everything—”

“Money is everything!” Metori cut him off in a fit of agitation, induced by the man questioning the significance of money, “Money is the art of the possible!”

The man, Saiki Kusuke, simply smiled at Metori pleasantly.

“This man is too calm, it is unnerving! When I talked like this to the peasant scums at PK Academy they were angrier than this man is now. What is this man up to?”

Saiki Kusuke knew if he reacted in anger, he would not be able to direct the conversation in the way he wanted.

“Is that so? Anyway I meant to ask you if you are Kusuo’s friend. By the way, Kusuo is my little brother, and he talks about you quite a lot. To be specific, your antics of throwing money around.”

It was a lie, Kusuke had not spoken to his brother for almost four years.

The cogs in Metori’s brain began to turn as he tried to recall any memory of a Saiki Kusuo. “What is this man talking about? I don’t have any friends……Is he referring to one of the rabble at PK Academy? What a joke, these peasant scums are beneath me! They are not even worthy enough to be in my platinum toilet bowl! Saiki Kusuo……ah!”

The image of a spectacled pink-haired boy, with two hairclips (or at least Metori assumed they were hairclips) poking out of the boy’s head like the devil’s horns, materialised in his mind. Metori gritted his teeth at the mental image of the boy, the boy that took Teruhashi Kokomi away from him, the boy that invalidated his world view.

Any words of retort in the scion’s mind was displaced by the memories of his failure, humiliation struck his chest like a heartburn, his breathing became irregular, and before he realised he was cowering with his hands covering his head. The sight of a concerned-looking man in front of him faded to blackness, while sounds of bundled cash crashing on top of him assaulted his ears. He was encircled by a blue sewage of barbarians, he was confronted by a blue abomination with a disgusting helmet, there was a heavy weight on top of him, there was no escape, and he was defeated.

A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder snapped the scion back to reality. The scion looked at the man in front of him, the man in grey who gave the squeeze, and recoiled in horror upon realising he made physical contact with a dirt poor peasant soot.

“Now boy, even the poor can afford and do actively keep their hands clean, as I do. You seem to be quite affected by the experience, don’t you?”

The scion stared at the man and said nothing. The man smiled again as if he received confirmation.

“Stop smiling it’s irritating! And stop calling me ‘boy’! I am a man! Just how much does this man know about my business?”

“Do you know why you failed?”

“What do you want?”

“Let me tell you why you failed, you failed because you lack subtlety and finesse.”

“What.”

A numb, flat one-word answer, this scion was indeed clueless, just as Kusuke expected.

“Every man has his weakness, but you mistakenly assumed all of their weakness is money, a misperception brought about by your own love of money. Being Kusuo’s brother I know his weakness.”

The man stopped talking right when Metori expected him to reveal Saiki Kusuo’s weakness. Impatient, the scion grasped the man’s sleeve, in a manner not dissimilar to a dying beggar on the street pleading for coins, and demanded, “Tell me! Tell me his weakness!”

The man’s inscrutable smile remained firmly in place, with his lips not moving.

“Tell me! Pl-pl-ple-plea-please…” uttering that foreign word, which sounded more like stuttering, was an acid reflux up the scion’s throat.

The man finally talked, but he spoke in English, “That unicorns may be betrayed with trees, And bear with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers—”

“Julius Caesar. So what are you trying to say?”

“For a monkey, you are rather well-read, as expected of your elite status.” Kusuke thought.

“Similarly, Kusuo may be betrayed with coffee jello. His obsession with sweets, particularly coffee jello, is his Achilles’ heel. Money does not appeal to him, but coffee jello does.”

Upon hearing the information Metori needed, the scion turned away from the Kusuke, ready to approach his nearest servants and order them to purchase a truckload of coffee jello.

“Teruhashi Kokomi will finally be mine!”

“Wait, you go to do you know not what—”

“I know what I am doing!” the scion jerked his head back and barked in frenzy, seemingly forgotten to question why Saiki Kusuo’s brother willingly told an enemy his brother’s weakness, “you already told me all I need to know, I will just bribe your brother with coffee jello and I will finally get what I am entitled to!”

To Metori’s surprise and indignation, the man burst into contemptuous laughter.

“What!? Laugh some more and I will get you kicked out.” Metori snapped.

The man, with one arm raised and the palm facing Metori, while the other arm clutched his stomach, slowly stopped laughing.

“Sorry,” he said with a little chuckle, “this is why I said you lack subtlety. You brazenly used your corporation’s power to hastily transfer yourself to PK Academy, a high-profile move that immediately alerted all the plebeians of PK Academy. You made your first entrance into your class room in the most dramatic fashion humanly possible with a circus train of guards, butlers, chefs and maids and then openly declared your intentions and your scorn of the normal students; you caused senseless disruption and evoked antagonism before you even make a move. You were as subtle as a brick through the window—”

“And what is wrong with that?” questioned a bewildered Metori, “it was an intimidation tactic! I made it clear to them that they should not make an enemy of me! I am the great scion of the mighty Saiko conglomerate!”

“And did they surrender to your authority? From what Kusuo told me they seemed to have fought back. If your so-called tactic succeeded, Teruhashi Kokomi would already be by your side. If someone throw a brick through your window, how would you feel?”

“Huh, I would be angry, why do—”

“If you would feel angry, likewise they would feel angry. You yielded your influence like a blunt instrument, hammering it aimlessly like a blind caveman, resorting to blatant bribery, blackmail, and harassment on the people. You attempted to wrought them into fearful servitude, but even the most malleable of mettle may snap, and so you failed. You only have power over others so long as you do not take everything away from them. But when you have robbed a man of everything, the man is no longer in your power for he is free again.”

The scion, deep in thought about the man’s words, remained quiet for a while.

Finally, Metori spoke, “so what should I do?”

“You push a man away and he will push you back. If you want a person to move as you please, neither should you force them under the pretence of authority, nor should you impel them with the allure of money, you should quietly shape their perception of their environment to give them a false sense of urgency to move as you please. After all, some people have qualities like pride, integrity, honour and rebelliousness, such people do not dance to the money and power of the Saiko conglomerate. When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail; when all you have is money, you contract the propensity to ineptly throw money at every difficulty that confronts you, like a frustrated toddler throwing things within his reach.”

Metori’s countenance twisted at the insulting comparison. The scion wanted to sling some insult back to the man but no words came to mind, for his mind, overwhelmed by the man’s words, could only think about himself rather than the man.

“Are you saying I should manipulate them? But how?” The scion demanded.

“You can’t do that yourself, because you are dull; you will never be as good as your father. You lack the sparks of brilliance that should be in a businessman, or else you simply don’t exercise them presently. You questioned my legitimacy due to my social-economic background, but I have proven to you I earned my place here. I have little money but I have this,” Kusuke pointed his own head, “this cannot be bought with money; money is not everything.”

Metori’s eyes and jaws twitched at that statement, but he remained silent. The scion had never been so thoroughly browbeaten before, the scion had never felt his self-worth been so savagely pulverized before, and the man in grey did both. In spite of the unpleasantness of the man, Metori felt the man’s words could guide him to the right path of wooing Teruhashi Kokomi, so the scion tried his best to rein in his anger and listened.

“You said ‘money is the art of the possible’ and I disagree with you. It is true that a lot of can be achieved with the help of money, but not money alone. You have all the capital in the world, but you cannot use it to improve your businesses or save your relative’s life without someone like me. Die politik ist die lehre vom möglichen; you can hardly further your goals without playing politics, something which unfortunately you are awfully incompetent at, unlike me, I am good with people.”

The scion knew it was true, given that the man seemed to be a women magnet, unlike him.

“But why are you telling me all this? What do you want? Is it my money? Are you charging me for your words?”

“Relax, I simply want to play an elaborate game on Kusuo. A man is not a big brother if he does not occasionally mess with his younger sibling. It is a game that results in an outcome favourable to your quest of wooing Teruhashi Kokomi. With that being said, you dumped your money and still failed to woo the world’s most beautiful girl, do you not think that perhaps money is useless?”

“What you say!?” The scion growled at the sudden insult on money.

“What trash is money, what rubbish and what offal, when it cannot get you what you are entitled to!”

That was the last straw. Metori lost it and lunged at the Kusuke, grappling him with one hand on the shirt collar and the other hand on the tie. Metori had never fought before, he never had the need when he have an army of bodyguards and a private military company at his disposal (one of the perks of being the scion of the Saiko Conglomerate), but at that moment he felt such a strong conviction to defend the money he loved so much that he personally acted in violence. Curious stares were directed at the two, but those mattered none to Metori, the great scion of the puissant Saiko conglomerate, who always did whatever he wanted without needing permission or fearing repercussion.

The man looked stoically into Metori’s eyes as Metori grappled him, not appearing intimidated in the slightest bit. “Do you want to prove me wrong? Do you want to proof the entire monkey rabble at PK Academy wrong?” the man questioned in a challenging tone, even as he was held captive in the scion’s grasp of fury.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm himself down, the scion released the man from his grasp. Roughing up the man would not prove anything.

“You speak to Saiko Metori, and such a man is no ignoble deserter. I will fund your little prank and make it into an epic campaign, and prove to everyone the power of money!” Saiko Metori extended his hand to the man.

“There’s a bargain made, and I will bestow you with my intelligence. Brain and money combined makes an invincible combination.” Saiki Kusuke shook the hand.

It was a firm and vigorous handshake with a warm hand. Metori’s father had told him about gauging people with handshakes, and from his father’s words of wisdom Metori could tell Saiki Kusuke was a force to be reckoned with.

“You are a wise man who just a made a shrewd investment. I am certain you will turn into a fine business man like your father, and bring eternal glory to the name of Saiko.”

The scion grinned at the hard-earned flattery. His father had told him social events for the rich, such as this gala dinner, were the perfect venues backroom dealings—the most lucrative kind of dealings. Once again, his father turned out to be correct. It was a pity he could never see his father’s face due to all the shiny jewelleries worn by his father.

Saiko Metori, scion of the puissant Saiko conglomerate, was a boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Money was his religion, he believed in its universal purchasing power which makes it the ultimate enabler of all things, and it was the one thing the Saiko conglomerate has in superabundance. Belonging to the stratosphere of the Capitalist world, everything he could possibly desire was handed to him on a silver platter. Everything but Teruhashi Kokomi, for somehow her infatuation for Saiki Kusuo overpowers the universal elemental lust for money; she could not be bought into becoming Saiko’s wife. Saiki Kusuo appeared no different from the other poor, vulgar wretches of PK academy; a boy certainly no mightier than himself, yet prodigiously grown in Teruhashi’s heart. Metori transferred to PK Academy to hunt for the elusive beauty Teruhashi Kokomi, but due to Saiki Kusuo, his quarry slipped from his sight and he returned home trophy-less. Such an indecorous failure was unbecoming of a Saiko, and his pride would not tolerate it again. Teruhashi Kokomi’s love for Saiki Kusuo was an attack to Metori’s pride and religion, Metori must redress this grievance or else one day he would be lying in a dishonourable grave.

And thus Saiki Kusuke secured the funding for his plans against his brother. Saiko Metori, Toritsuka Reita, and Teruhashi Makoto—one by one these monkeys would fall under his influence. Saiki Kusuo the person was invincible, but the people surrounding him were not, thus Kusuke reasoned that Kusuo would be vulnerable through the people surrounding him.

It was a lot of effort to get close to the inner circles of the Saiko conglomerate, but Kusuke's efforts paid off when he was finally invited to be in the same social occasion as Saiko Metori, so he seized the opportunity and incorporated Metori into his conspiracy. There was no other way to meet the scion, who frequently holed himself up inside his gigantic mansion and was protected by bodyguards, except on occasions like the gala dinner where the scion would not be surrounded by servants and bodyguards, making the scion approachable.

Kusuke had considered different ways of asking money from Saiko Metori. The genius could simply fawn like a cur until the scion threw some money at him. However, Kusuke did not simply need money, he also need the clout of the Saiko conglomerate, thus he must enlist Metori into taking an active part of his plans—simple fawning would not do.

Furthermore, Kusuke must ensure he remained the leader after enlisting Saiko Metori. Saiko Metori has an ego as huge as Mount Everest. This inflated ego, fuelled by his social status, made him self-entitled and self-righteous, so he might interfere with the details of Kusuke’s plan, undermining the whole mission. According to Kusuke’s ever-reliable character profile, Metori was scornful of those he perceived to be his inferior, but respectful of those he perceived to his superior; this was evident from the manner he bossed over his servants and his expressed disdain for those poorer than him, while remaining obedient and respectful to his father. To prevent the scion from derailing Kusuke’s plan, Kusuke must pop the scion’s ego and firmly establish himself as the scion’s superior.

Womanising in the scion’s presence while wearing a cheap suit was the first step to induce an inferiority complex in the scion. Kusuke knew attracting the opposite sex was a sore spot for the scion after failing to woo Teruhashi Kokomi, and Kusuke happened to have a talent for charming others—including the opposite sex. One of the women even gave him her hotel room number, and of course Kusuke would not visit her later as women do not interest him. In fact, the genius expected himself to die a virgin, like Isaac Newton allegedly did.

Telling the scion why the scion failed and boasting about his superior intelligence and achievement in a verbose, critical and insulting manner were further steps to belittle the scion but at the same time convince the scion that Kusuke’s help was necessary.

Finally, Kusuke dropped hints about having designs that would end Teruhashi’s infatuation on Kusuo, and then he insulted Metori’s beloved money, provoking Metori to prove himself and his belief in money by playing an active role in Kusuke’s plans.

All went according to plan.

With Kusuo oblivious that a game was on, Kusuke already moved the pieces on the chessboard and would soon deliver a checkmate to his brother.

Chapter Text

Act 1 Scene 3

When Toritsuka Reita returned from school to his temple, he learned that a visitor was waiting for him in his room.

Reita drooled like a cur as he fantasied a girl waiting in his room.

Then he learned his visitor was a man.

Reita gaged and launched spittle everywhere. His prized collection was in that room, he had no desire to let his prized collection be used by another man.

Reita bolted to his room, only to be greeted by the striking sight of a young man with lime gold hair reading his-oh no you don't-prized collection.

It was all over.

The man, whoever he was, discovered Reita’s hidden precious stash. If the man ever leaks of the discovery, Reita would no doubt face severe consequences. The temple boy collapsed onto his knees in shock and defeat, and then weakly inquired, "Who are you?"

"Man you got nice taste! This is one mighty fine stash you got!" the man exclaimed, with his face buried in one of the collection magazines he held in his hand.

The temple boy felt more at ease after hearing the stranger’s approval, but the mysterious man was a stranger nonetheless.

"So who are you? You look vaguely familiar, do I know you?" Reita stood up and warily asked again.

The man finally looked at him, "How rude of me to not introduce myself! I am Saiki Kusuke, nice to meet you!"

The temple boy looked shocked.

"Are...are you by any means related to Saiki Kusuo?" Reita sputtered

"Ha! Of course! I am Kusuo's big brother!"

“UWAAAAHAAAAAAAAAHAAAAAAHAAAAHAAAAAAHWUUUATTTT!!!!!”

Saiki Kusuke visibly recoiled in shock at Reita’s outburst of gibberish. He put down the adult magazine and looked at Reita.

“Sorry for showing up in your room uninvited. One of the monks told me to wait for you in your room.” the man explained.

Saiki Kusuke lied. In reality, Kusuke cajoled the monks into allowing him to be in Reita’s room even though Kusuke was supposed to be a stranger.

“Ah no! That’s not it,” Reita stretched out his hand as a defensive gesture, “I’m simply surprised. To think that master—ah Saiki-san, has a big brother, he never said anything about his family members to me…” Reita words trailed off as he stared at a certain appendage on Saiki Kusuke’s head.

“That is a power limiter right!?” Reita shouted suddenly as he pointed at the appendage on Kusuke’s head, “I know Saiki-san wears something like that too, although his are smaller and he wears two of them. You must be a psychic too!! And since you are the big brother, you must be even more powerful right!?”

Reita, with awe in his brightened eyes and with his mouth wide open, looked expectantly at Kusuke, waiting for a confirmation.

“Goddamn”

This Toritsuka Reita just kicked a sore spot without knowing it.

Reita looked so excited, like a child that stumbled upon a mountain of candy, and that only made it worse.

Kusuke let out a mirthless laughter, which sounded bitterer than the genius intended it to be.

“Keep your emotions under control.”

“Sorry, I am just an ordinary human. I have no psychic abilities.” Kusuke admitted.

“Why is it such a common trope that the main character of a story has a big brother that is better than him!?”

For instance, Sherlock Holmes’ big brother Mycroft Holmes was smarter than Sherlock—he beat Sherlock at Sherlock’s own game. However, Kusuke could not beat Kusuo at Kusuo’s own game, the genius has no superpowers to begin with.

“Ehh—” The dragged out sound Reita made at the revelation reeked of disappointment.

Kusuke could not care less about monkeys like Toritsuka Reita, yet Toritsuka Reita’s disappointment felt like a punch to the solar plexus—a sensation that had seared Kusuke’s mind years ago.

Years ago, Kusuke challenged Kusuo to a fight—a literal brawl. Thinking back, it was a really stupid way to compete with Kusuo since Kusuo could have easily killed him. Kusuke had contemplated on using the exo-suit he designed to gain an edge over Kusuo in fighting, but he eventually decided against it.

The genius decided to fight fair.

Instead, to prepare for fighting Kusuo with his bare hands, Kusuke received training from a badass delinquent kid with a crazy pompadour hairstyle the genius stumbled upon on the street one day. That badass kid never lost a fight, so Kusuke hoped by training from him some of that kid’s luck and skill would rub off on Kusuke.

That badass kid was called Kuboyasu Aren, who coincidentally became Kusuo’s high-school classmate.

After weeks of intensive training under young Aren, young Kusuke fought a black belt kyokushin Karateka and won.

He thought he was ready to fight Kusuo.

In the brothers’ fight, Kusuke caught Kusuo off guard and landed a punch on Kusuo’s solar plexus. The genius still remembered, even after all these years, the pained and shocked countenance of the powerful psychic—the psychic was invulnerable to attacks only if he expected it coming. It was such a cathartic sight, as at that moment the genius thought he finally scored a victory over his little brother.

Make no mistake, Kusuke was not bullying his little brother; siblings fight all the time. Besides, whatever pain Kusuo felt at that moment was only an iota of the psychological pain Kusuke endured at the hands of Kusuo. Kusuo being punched was an overdue comeuppance for misusing his superpowers during competitions, or at least Kusuke believed so.

But, alas, victory for Kusuke was not to be. Kusuo, once again, cheated with his superpower. Kusuo, after he received Kusuke’s punch, used his superpowers to transmit the pain he felt right back to Kusuke, literally.

The psychic decided not to fight fair.

The pain was so intense that Kusuke blacked out and fainted.

He was not ready after all.

Afterwards, Kusuke was grounded by his father—his ineffectual, shoe-licking father actually grounded him, while Kusuo got away scot free.

To add insult to injury, Kusuo was given a cup of coffee jello as consolation for being attacked by his big brother. Kusuke never admitted it to anyone, but he kind of liked coffee jello too.

Since that incident, Kusuke barely talked to either his father or his brother. The genius then buried himself into studying. He holed himself up—either inside his study or his laboratory, skipping all family outings and minimising interactions with family members at home. Soon, Kusuke skipped enough grades and earned himself a scholarship to pursue tertiary education in Britain. Cambridge, to be specific.

Good thing he got a scholarship, those elite Anglosphere colleges have obscenely costly school fees; there was no way his father’s shoe-licking money could support those study expenses.

Not that he would ever spend even a single Yen from his father’s salary, Kusuke would rather kill himself than to rely on his father. Having lived alone in a foreign land for four years, the teenage genius prided himself on being self-made and independent.

Four years later, Saiki Kusuke quietly returned to Japan (technically on a study break since the genius was still embroiled in various R&D projects overseas), with his family members none the wiser.

Time for revenge.

“Saiki-san?”

Toritsuka Reita’s voice snapped Kusuke out of his reminiscence.

“Oh, sorry. By the way, you can call me Kusuke-san if you don’t mind. I don’t want to be called the same name as my brother.”

Studying in Britain has the unexpected side-effect of making the genius dislike his last name. Whenever a Brit, or anyone who speaks English for that matter, pronounces his last name ‘Saiki’, it sounds like ‘psychic’ in English, which would then remind the genius of his psychic little brother.

That was not good on his mental health.

The genius had told himself he needs to stop thinking about his little brother.

But he could not stop.

To discourage the Cambridge monkeys from calling him ‘Saiki’, Kusuke told them to call him by his first name ‘Kusuke’. But the Cambridge monkeys struggled to pronounce Asian names like ‘Kusuke’, so for some ungodly reason, somewhere along the way ‘Kusuke’ morphed into ’Cain’.

That was quite possibly the most inappropriate name they could have given him.

After spending a few years in Cambridge, a legendary figure, shrouded in myth, only known as ‘Cain the crazy Cambridge child’, was born in the British academia circle.

Seriously, what a god-awful name it was. Kusuke would rather be called ‘Saiki’ than ‘Cain the crazy Cambridge child’. Though the likes of Kaidou Shun would probably drool after such a moniker.

Although many super-geniuses received media attention, Saiki Kusuke always ensured that he maintains a low profile. If Saiki Kusuke became famous, there would be a risk of the media uncovering the monster that was his little brother.

His little brother was such a burden. Indeed, Kusuke considered Kusuo the bane of his existence.

“Alright, Kusuke-san then. If you are not a psychic, what are you wearing that for?” Reita asked as he pointed at the appendage on Kusuke’s head.

“You need to stop thinking about the past! You are supposed to control Toritsuka Reita’s emotions and not let Toritsuka Reita control yours!”

“Oh this?” Kusuke pointed to the appendage on top of his head, “this is a telepathy canceler. When you wear this Kusuo would not be able to read your thoughts anymore, or communicate telepathically with you for that matter, he would have to open his mouth and talk to communicate! I am a part-time inventor, I build all kinds of gadgets.”

“Including gadgets for the SIS,” the genius added mentally, “though I have signed a non-disclosure agreement about that. No one knows but I am basically a one-man army Q branch.”

“So cool!” Reita exclaimed as his big wide eyes studied the telepathy canceler.

“This telepathy canceler gives you an oasis of privacy in the world of Saiki Kusuo.” Kusuke explained with a self-satisfied grin, somewhat pleased that he impressed Toritsuka despite not being a psychic.

Before the days of the telepathic canceler, Kusuke basically lived in an Orwellian nightmare. Kusuo, with his ability to read minds, was practically a thought police. The genius had always been amazed at how nonchalant his parents were about Kusuo’s privacy-invading, mass-surveillance superpowers. Kusuke always had to control what he thinks in the presence of Kusuo, or else Kusuo would learn information that Kusuke did not want him to learn. Kusuo’s mind reading ability was also one of the major reasons why Kusuke suffered 4254 losses and 0 wins in total. For most people the mind is the unchanging sanctuary of privacy, but Kusuke had no such luxury–even his mind was not free from the clutches of his little brother, and so the genius considered the telepathic canceler as one of his most important inventions.

Living in the surveillance-crazy UK was nothing compared to living under the same household as Kusuo without a telepathy canceler. The genius had always scoffed at the public outrage over mass surveillance programmes like ECHELON and PRISM, those people were blissfully unaware of the existence of Saiki Kusuo. Without his power limiters, Kusuo could hear everything, see everything, feel everything and smell everything in the universe–privacy be damned.

Good thing Kusuke built the power limiters when he was twelve. If not for the power limiters Kusuo would have accidentally destroyed the world by now with his uncontrollable strength.

“Can you let me try it?”

“Sure.” Kusuke handed the telepathy canceler to Reita, and the temple boy put it on his head.

“Ahehe. Now it looks like I have a dick on my head! Heehee, cool! Now I have two dicks.” the temple boy commented gleefully.

“What.”

Kusuke could usually control what he lets out of his mouth. However, sometimes when you witness something so bizzare, so mind-numbingly idiotic, your brain’s cognitive faculties malfunction causing you to become incapable of producing a more articulate response—it was one of those times. The genius barely resisted the urge to plant his face in his palm.

“He was impressed not because of the device’s technical accomplishments but because it supposedly looks like a—” 

Kusuke let out a deep sigh. He really should not expect too much from horndog monkeys like Toritsuka Reita. In fact, he should have considered the sort of things the temple boy collected as a reliable barometer of the boy’s intelligence.

“In the end no one truly appreciates the technical feats of my inventions.”

Monkeys like Torisuka Reita were too dumb to appreciate Kusuke’s inventions, while Kusuo the superpowered psychic god would render the vast majority of Kusuke’s inventions insignificant and trivial; who needs inventions when you can warp reality with psychic powers?

“May I have it back?” Kusuke asked the temple boy who was stroking the ball-and-stick extension of the telepathy canceler.

“Yes, sir.” the temple boy duly returned the telepathy canceler, and the genius put it back on his head.

“Anyway, you must be wondering why I am here.”

“Yes, Kusuke-san. I was wondering about that. You like my collections don’t you?”

“Haven’t I praised your magazines already?”

“Haha, I thought so! You are so different from Saiki-san. For some reason Saiki-san never appreciates the sight of a naked woman…” Toritsuka Reita then went on a verbose, vehement speech about his own darkest fetishes and bodily details of his favourite magazine stars—the less you know about them the better, it is for the sake of your mental health.

“Too much information! But at least I can use it to my advantage…”

“Speaking of which, how do you think of Kusuo? To be honest, Kusuo does not seem to think particularly highly of you—”

“Well, I am still a disciple in training after all!” Reita replied cheerfully, “but Saiki-san is amazing! He is so powerful, which makes him a little scary at times…” Toritsuka Reita trailed off as a cherry red blush and a leering smile appeared on his face, and then he mumbled, “He can transform into a real girl, with real boobs…”, gradually he began to drool, no doubt indulged in some deranged fantasy involving a certain Saiki Kusuko.

“So my intelligence report is correct.”

“Oh, then I have some good news for you. The reason why I am here is primarily to deliver this good news to you.” Saiki Kusuke wore a similar leering smile on his own face.

“Gotta act the part.”

“UWAHHAHAHAH! No! I must not fantasise about my master! Saiki-san is a boy after all, even if his body can transform into a legitimately female form…” Toritsuka Reita suddenly shouted, he placed his two hands on top of his head and ruffled his hair, as if confounded by his own fantasy.

Reita seemed to have been indulged in his Kusuko fantasy a bit too much and missed out what Kusuke said, so the genius repeated, “I said I have some good news for you.”

Reita snapped his head to the direction of Kusuke, by then a deep stain created by Reita’s saliva had formed on the tatami mat, “Sorry, what good news?”

Kusuke’s leering smile grew into a Cheshire cat grin, “The truth is I made a bet with Kusuo—Kusuo asserts that there is no way I can surprise him since he is an omnipotent psychic, but I disagree. He said that if I managed to surprise him—“

Kusuke paused.

Reita crawled towards him like a cockroach crawling towards sticky roach trap—the temple boy was hooked.

“Kusuke-san, please tell me! What did Saiki-san bet? How is that good news to me? Don’t tell me that—”

“He said that if I managed to surprise him, he will transform into a girl—it seems that you are already aware of his transformation capability, which spares me from explaining. He will transform into a girl and go to your place—and be your captive.”

“WHAAAAT!!” Toritsuka Reita jumped like an animal shocked by an electric fence. Reita’s eyes darted around, his body shook mildly, and Kusuke could hear the temple’s boy’s heavy breathing.

“Got him”

“Ku…Kusuke-san, sir, what do you mean by captive…do you mean—“

“By captive I mean that she—Saiki Kusuko, that’s how Kusuo calls his female self, will be obedient to you unconditionally. You can do anything you want with her.”

Reita started panting like a hound, “Kusuke-san, you mean literally anything!?”

“Yes,” Kusuke gave a knowing grin, “hell, I will say it out loud, if I win the bet you can take her virginity if you want–she would let you. I could not care less.” The genius leaned forward and made a squeezing action with his hands, as if he was squeezing a pair of mammaries.

Blood streamed out of Reita’s two nostrils.

“What a clichéd reaction, author! But whatever, I know I hit the mark!”

“Are…Are you serious? I should cross-check with Saiki-san…”

“Don’t be silly Reita-kun,” Kuuske offered a pack of tissues to the bleeding-through-the-nose Reita, “what do I have to gain by lying to you? Kusuo made the bet under the condition that you remain unaware of this dealing, if he knows you know then Saiki Kusuko would never be your captive. He dared to make such a bet because he is really confident, but his overconfidence will be his downfall. I want to win, Reita-kun. I want to surprise the supposedly omnipotent psychic. Help me surprise him.”

“How can I help you?” Reita asked earnestly as he stuffed tissue papers into his nostril in a bid to block the flow of blood.

Saiki Kusuke took out a stack of money, and placed it on Reita’s table.

“Whoa, Kusuke-san, I don’t know you are so rich!”

“I invent stuff, and I own a ton of patents, they bring good royalty money.”

That was not a lie, but the stack of money was from Saiko Metori. Kusuke planned to not spend any of his own money in this conspiracy against his own brother. Why spend your own money when you have already persuaded someone else to spend their money for you?

“Anyway, Reita-kun, use this money to buy the raunchiest stuffs—I asked you for help because I know you have a fine taste for this kind of things. We will use the stuffs to shock the prudish Kusuo. Don’t you want to play a prank on him?”

That was another lie. Saiki Kusuo would not be the one to discover ‘the stuffs’, it would be Teruhashi Kokomi, provided if all went according to plan.

Kusuke initially considered incorporating Reita’s ability to interact with ghosts into his plan, but ultimately decided against it. The genius was a man from the world of science, things like ghosts were simply too unscientific to be utilised by him. Instead Reita would serve a different purpose.

“That sounds like a plan! I won’t disappoint you Kusuke-san! Saiki-san is my master, but I think I have even greater respect for you!”

“Good to hear! I expect great things from you Reita-kun, don’t disappoint me!”

“Sir, I won’t.”

Reita grasped Kusuke’s hands and shook it.

An unholy alliance, birthed out of deception, was forged.

Toritsuka Reita was a simple boy with a monomaniacal craving—girls. Perhaps it was in his genes, or perhaps it was due to his raging hormones, or perhaps it was due to some psychological trauma that aroused out of being hassled by ghosts for all of his life—for whatever reason Reita has an intense yearning to be popular with girls, to be close to them, to be able to touch and feel all of them. The temple boy tried, and tried, and tried to become popular with girls, mostly by letting more charismatic spirits possess him to impress the opposite sex, but inexplicably Reita’s plans would invariably backfire on him in the most humiliating way possible. Most times, his master Saiki Kusuo happened to tag along and witness his failures, all the while making savage commentary about Reita’s pathetic attempts. One particular time, Saiki Kusuo happened to tag along in his female form–Saiki Kusuko.

The sight of Saiki Kusuko was one that leaves a lasting impression.

She was very cute, but when the temple boy first laid eyes on her he also instinctively knew she was someone dangerous, and that was before he learned that she was his mater’s female form. She saved Reita when ghosts were hijacking his body, and she was there by his side when all the other girls abandoned him, after all she was his master. Reita asked her if her breasts were real, which angered her—if only he could get a feel……

Ever since that fateful meeting, Saiki Kusuko lingered on Reita’s mind. Thinking back, her skin was really fair, her complexion was flawless, her perfectly pink hair has a pleasing fragrance, she carried herself daintily though she kicked hard, her figure was shapely–like a masterfully crafted sculpture and her telepathically-delivered voice resounded alluringly in his mind; if only she could give a facial expression other than that aloof disdain she would be perfect. Toritsuka Reita was conflicted, he was convinced that he was completely straight yet he grew an infatuation with someone who was technically a boy, though to be specific a girl with the mind of a boy. But his master was a reality warper who could transform into anything, so was Saiki Kusuo really a boy? Or was Saiki Kusuo a genderless god-like being that chose its default appearance to be a boy? Just thinking about it made his head hurt, but at least Reita was certain–however conflicted he felt about such an emotion–that he has a crush on Saiki Kusuko.

Kusuke exploited Reita’s growing infatuation with his little brother’s female form to make the temple boy do his bidding.

First, the genius pretended that he shared Reita’s passion for adult magazines to disarm Reita and make the temple boy like him.

Kusuke investigated every single detail about Kusuo’s school life (with a little help from his SIS contacts), that was how he caught wind of the meeting between Toritsuka Reita and Saiki Kusuko. Of course, just because they met it does not mean Toritsuka would have a crush on her.

But as long as there was a possibility, it was worth exploring any chance of exploiting such a possibility.

Kusuke made into Reita’s room before Reita returned from school to study Reita’s room.

A lot of details about a person can be deduced just by looking at the person’s room.

Toritsuka Reita’s room was simple–stark, even, if you prefer to be harsher. There was little in his room except piles and piles of magazines a boy Reita’s age has no business reading.

His room confirms Kusuke’s profile of Toritsuka Reita–a barren-spirited fellow, one that fed on the images of naked women.

The genius dived right into the pile of magazines, not because he liked that sort of reading material, but because he wanted to figure out if Toritsuka Reita has a ‘type’, in an attempt to evaluate the possibility of Reita having an infatuation with Saiki Kusuko.

For instance, one of the pages of the magazines depicted a bespectacled woman flashing her genitals, and that page was covered in stains, indicating its owner liked that page a bit more than the others; meanwhile another page depicted a not-bespectacled woman flashing her genitals, and that page was not covered in stains.

This observation supported the conclusion that Toritsuka Reita perhaps preferred bespectacled women.

Saiki Kusuko was bespectacled.

Other observations pointed to a similar conclusion–traits of Saiki Kusuko seemed to be preferred by Toritsuka Reita.

As he flipped through pages after pages, the genius wondered why other men like those images so much. Personally, Kusuke was more entertained by seeing Kusuo’s scared face when confronting a cockroach than seeing pictures of naked women. In fact, one of Kusuke’s childhood pleasures was throwing cockroaches at Kusuo to vent his frustration of being defeated by the psychic. By the way, another childhood pleasure was eating Kusuo’s coffee jello.

Speaking of coffee jello, the genius remembered how a few years back he gave a gift to Kusuo on Kusuo’s birthday. Kusuo was so happy and excited when he saw the gift because the gift appeared to be a big box of coffee jello. Kusuo tried to snatch the coffee jello in the box, only to see his hands passed through the box as if the box was an illusion. The box of coffee jello was actually a hologram projection, as Kusuo soon realised. Kusuke’s gift to Kusuo was not a box of coffee jello, but rather a hologram projector. Kusuke figured it would be funny to taunt Kusuo with a hologram projection of a box of coffee jello. When Kusuo realised there was no coffee jello, he looked almost as if he was going to cry, that was indeed a sight to behold. Kusuo got so angry that the hologram projector spontaneously combusted, barely five minutes after Kusuke presented that gift to Kusuo.

“What an asshole. It took me days to build that hologram and I even spent all my pocket money just to buy the parts needed for the hologram, and he fucking burned it down!” the genius thought, and since Kusuo could read minds, Kusuke was fairly certain Kusuo knew it too.

But Kusuo never said a word of ‘thanks’, or a word of ‘sorry’.

After that year Kusuke stopped giving gifts to Kusuo.

Healthy sibling relationship was a foreign concept to the genius.

Anyway, back on topic. Finally when Reita responded to Kusuke’s question about his impression of Kusuo, the temple boy’s mumbling response confirmed the possibility. Toritsuka Reita was a surprisingly honest person, Kusuke could read him like an open book.

Frankly, Kusuke was not exactly surprised that Reita became infatuated with Kusuko; if anyone ever asked him Kusuke would freely admit that Kusuko was pretty cute.

If something could be exploited, it must be exploited. When you have no superpowers like Kusuo, you learn to be an opportunist to gain an edge.

So the genius improvised on the spot and threw in the story of that fake bet. The mere mention of Saiki Kusuko was enough to cloud the horny monkey’s already-limited capacity for rational thinking, so the idea that Reita stood a chance of feeling up Kusuko would annihilate whatever thinking faculties the temple boy possessed. Reita, with his judgement clouded, would be preoccupied with how to help Kusuke win the bet instead of questioning why his perpetually sane and sober master would ever agree to such an irresponsible and inappropriate bet with a self-proclaimed big brother that Reita only met for the first time. Kusuke could thus guide Reita into contributing materially to his conspiracy.

In two simple steps Saiki Kusuke made Toritsuka Reita his pawn.

“By the way, dear readers, if you think this story will turn into a gender-bending pseudo-slash fic between a female Kusuo and Toritsuka, you are very much mistaken. Kusuko is mine and mine alone!” the genius thought suddenly.

Since Reita was Kusuo’s friend, and does not harbour ill towards him, unlike Teruhashi Makoto and Saiko Metori, Kusuke needed to downplay the malice in his plan. So the genius called it a ‘prank’.

The choice of word matters.

“By the way, Reita-kun, for the next few days avoid contact with Kusuo in case he sees you and suspect something. Also I prepared this for you.” Kusuke took out a white headband that looked identical to the one which Reita usually wore and handed it to the temple boy.

“Kusuke-san, what is this?”

“It is a telepathy canceler, like the one I wore on my head, but I disguised it as a headband so you can wear it inconspicuously. With this there is no way Kusuo can accidentally read your thought and spoil our surprise for him.”

So much effort–investigating, deducing, deceiving–just to get Toritsuka Reita buy some items for him. If he was Kusuo, he could simply unleash the mind control power and then he would be able to shape the world as he pleased.

But he was not Kusuo.

Once again the genius felt the pettiness of his abilities compared to Kusuo’s psychic powers.

“There you go again…thinking about him,” Kusuke mentally chided himself, “I guess I can’t stop myself, Kusuo is too amazing after all…he is the real genius and I am but an ordinary human. But when we reunite, Kusuo, I will be the victor!”