Application for Okane Kakuzu
Medical condition [For patients only, unless specified otherwise]:
None. Kudzu’s pretty chill, yo.
Biography:
Morbid? Quite.
Econocentric? Well, money did run the world.
Kakuzu isn’t crazy— his rather normal upbringing provided help to that leisure. He always claims to be… obsessed. Procuring, attaining, trading money; Heh, it isn’t a love, he insists— it is a lifestyle!
(Because love? You don’t get any money from it. Why the hell bother?)
The problem with his… infatuation, though, was the fact that jobs concerning it got… boring. He was smart enough to become a stock-broker at 25, constantly trading and earning money for those who would give him money too, but after a while, he realized that he couldn’t do that forever. He’d… well, die.
Huh. Death. Money is man-made, death isn’t. (He didn’t bother to think about what made death… it was unnecessary to the point.) It was simple, rational logic: to make more money, he had to live longer. To live longer, he had to keep his heart beating.
Now what… would keep his heart beating? How did it work, how did everything around there work to keep us alive? He wanted to— needed to— study it, and so he did. He had the money to go back to school, of course, all nice-and-neatly saved up, ready for the next investment to get more money. This was a long-term investment, though, one that took upwards of five years, and a lot of money. But, he knew it was worth it.
A degree here, an internship there, working his way up the hospital ladder, and he was examining the organ that could possibly give him a longer existance.
(Of course, there were some great bribes for promotions as well— and to think, there are people who say money doesn’t run the world. Ha.)
So, becoming the lead cardiothoratic surgeon at Kazenokuni was a perfect step in the plan— what better way to study what he wanted and earn money at the same time?
It irritated Kakuzu to no end when people considered him corrupt. He wasn’t corrupt— he was just driven by different motives than others. He would never, ever jeopardize a patient’s health.
Malpractice suits cost too much fucking money.
Dealing with a passed-on patient’s relatives wasted too much time— and time is money.
So, corrupt? Quite the opposite— okay, so maybe his thoughts tended to be— but his actions? Not in the slightest. That cost a shit ton of money.
Naturally, he settled for being a great doctor. Didn’t waste any of the things he valued, kept giving him a great paycheck.
Heh, his love for his paycheck would effectively trick his patients— that he actually cared.
Casually flipping through patient papers, Kakuzu’s bored emerald eyes were the only show that he wished he had something to do— the rest of his was sitting straight up, perfect posture, lips pressed into a thin line, the tattoos of stitches lining his face pulling taut. He felt there should be something he could be doing; anything. But alas, there wasn’t much at all.
"Every patient has been accurately checked on," He rumbled to himself in his deep voice, throwing the papers back down onto his desk, "Nothing scheduled until tomorrow." Kakuzu grimaced. There had to be something he could do— right now it felt as if he was wasting time. All his paperwork was done, it wasn’t time to head home yet… Being idle felt physically painful.
Then, his ears twitched, and his lips pulled into a grimace as his door opened— and as a person walked in, he regretted in wishes for something to do.