If there was anything Natori hated more than anything it was weaklings. Those cowering in fear deserved to be dominated by the strong. It was the way of life.

Then you came along. You who fought against him whenever he tried getting close. You who scolded him for even laying a hand on you. You who, no matter what, didn't sink into the hole of despair he tried to desperately to create for you.

Natori hated that too. It sickened him, even. So much so that he loved it. Loved your attention, whether it be you hitting him or patching up his injuries when he asked you to.

Now here you two were, on the balcony of your apartment. His hand crept close to your waist, tugging you towards him whenever he felt like it. This time was different. You were too tired to fight. Too used to the weirdness of the boy standing beside you.