Hippocrates
There was a tribe of nomads, their name long since lost to time, in the badlands south of Tourin, now where Alaric's northeastern statehood ends. They were mainly known for their odd assortments of body modifications, especially piercings, curtesy of a rite of passage whose origins have long since been forgotten even by the very people who practice it. Their chiefs of legend were said to have so many rings pierced into their skulls, they resembled the horns of a ram. Some were even said to have blinded themselves with bejeweled piercings into their eyelids and eyeballs. The legends had thread of every color laced through every visible piece of skin, layered by even more treasures and relics- sometimes even the bones of rebel tribesmen to show combat prowess. Every stitch and piercing came with its own distinction and recording of an event. Their bodies became their own set of tales to be read.
What these tribesmen treasured most of all was story.
They caravanned place to place hungering for stories. They were insatiable. If they couldn't acquire one, they would make one themselves.
It just so happened that their final story was their slaughter at the hands of Tourin monks, with the exception of one child. The child found himself as the lone survivor, all because he was too distracted by the decaying corpse on his way back from a watering hole.
He never knew why the slaughter. He just knew that it was.
He didn't cry.
He didn't keen.
He didn't feel.
He perused their wounds. He read them, ran his fingers on them and listened to their sound. He stayed to watch the bodies turn to rot and the wild beasts of the desert tear at their flesh. He waited for the beasts to open the corpses further to see if the stories within had changed at all. When he grew disinterested in the corpses, he found of the beasts and opened it up. Soon, he found himself obsessed with the prosaic fixtures in the beasts, fascinated by how their body's language was so different, written in a completely different set of grammar rules. He needed to see more. He opened more beasts. He devoured their stories.
He dreamed.
He marveled.
He obsessed.
…
There was a doctor who had a daughter on the verge of spinsterhood, or at least a daughter with aspirations to become a spinster. The doctor, for his part, had aspirations to be rid of her so he could practice in peace.
The man who came forward did him one better. He'd not only take the doctor's daughter to be his bride and take her far away, and without a dowry required. The man was a doctor of some sort, and his name was Shigure. The bride begrudgingly accepted the marriage, given she had no real say in the matter. She didn't her new husband to be anything special to look at, but he promised on their wedding day that she would never want nor would he ever raise a hand against her. All he wished for the moment was a companion. She didn't even necessarily have to cook, as he was self sufficient enough and adapted to include her meals with his own. Just to test his patience, she spent a day lounging about in bed; he said nothing. Things could have been worse. She'd heard of marriages to brutes solely to secure riches, which ultimately ended in the death of the wife. Pity this Shigure looked like a back alley stray who go in one too many fights.
The wife became pregnant shortly after the wedding. It didn't last.
Nor did the next pregnancy. Nor did the one after that.
Her demeanor changed.
Another miscarriage. Another one.
It was clear by that point she was terminating the pregnancies all her own. A brief search into her things revealed the roots of the Black Ghost tree, known for its contraceptive properties. Shigure hid those away from his wife without her knowledge. For her to ask about them, she would need to first admit to owning them. His wife's silent resentment grew more.
Then she found she had become pregnant again. She took a blade and intended to attack her husband with it. Shigure being much bigger than her, easily fended her attacks off. He took the blade from her and hid it, locking his workspace along with any other weapons she could use. It was just the hormones, he reasoned, so he didn't grew much more concerned. For the first time in their marriage, Shigure began to order her about- stay in bed (which his wife intended on doing anyway), drink herbal teas, and eat only foods to ensure a healthy pregnancy. She said nothing, but her eyes said everything- resentment for the man she called her husband and hatred for the being growing inside her.
The impending birth grew ever closer. Shigure took time away from his smithing and surgeries and began to craft for his child. He entered the bedroom with a blade kept close to his hip, a bucket of nails, a hammer, and several pieces of wood. His wife refused to acknowledge him as he planned the shape of the child's crib. She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling.
"Look at me," Shigure said, as he lifted the hammer and a nail. "Look at me, I said." His wife turned her head towards him. "I only ask this one thing of you as my wife. I never had any requirements for you. You may still do as you wish, but this," he gestured towards her swollen belly, "was all I wanted. This is not optional. This is an order."
After a long silence, his wife spoke, "You are hideous." Shigure had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like. "This is no child of mine."
"But it is mine, and that is all that matters." A pause. "I'll raise this child by myself if I have to. You've had all the freedom otherwise and will continue to do so soon. I can't give you more than that."
"I never loved you."
"I know." And he began to hammer away.
…
For the birth of his child, Shigure affixed a ring through the side of his temple the same size as the gold ring he placed through his jaw for his marriage. He finished the crib with a small bell dangling above it to entertain the child. Shigure's wife managed a quick birth to a girl. The woman refused to even hold the child. Perhaps her reluctance for childbirth ran far beneath her skin, as even her milk refused to come for the baby.
Of the child, the wife said, "She looks like you. Unflatteringly so."
"There are other forms of beauty. Some are more important than pure physicality," Shigure said.
Maybe it was the prospect of possibly having another child, but a month later, Shigure awoke to an empty crib. His wife had stolen away in the night and took their daughter with her. He founded her hanged in the forest, and at her feet, was their daughter with her throat slit.
He kept his daughter's bell on her ring- the one thing he wanted to cherish now dangling by his temple. He added more rings to his jawline for every month he grieved for his daughter.
…
Shigure came across the little girl while testing a new sword he just crafted. He cut back some foliage (The blade could have done with some extra sharpening.) and standing just behind the wreckage was a small waif of a child. She had a rat's nest of chestnut hair, twigs and mud. She held her weight on her left side, using a tree limb as a makeshift cane to compensate for the extreme damage on the right side of her body. There was a long pause. Long enough for Shigure to see enough in her eyes- the right one veiled with the glassy hue of injury- the hint of a legend.
"You smell of rot," Shigure said. The girl's wounds showed signs of parasites gorging on the rotting flesh, a thin trail of pus leaking near her elbow. From where he stood he was still overwhelmed by the stench of decay and mild infection.
The girl subtly shifted away, keeping the cane defensively between them. "You look of rot."
"Clearly you seek to charm."
"I seek nothing from you. Go away."
"This coming from a child trespassing on my property." He put his sword in its sheath and approached, arms parted to show his lack of ill intention. She still shifted her weight away from him. For a moment, she winced in pain."I can fix you." The girl swung the cane at his ribs. A combination of her small size and inability to add power behind the swing did nothing but leave the lightest hum of a sting whilst shifting her already unstable balance towards a dangerously close fall. Shigure yanked the cane away from her grasp and held it behind his back while still holding his other out and open. "You're in a considerable amount of pain." He took one step closer to her. "On the verge of going into shock." Another step. "I can tell these things. I am a surgeon. I am more than willing to repair the damage done to your body."
They were about a foot apart. The girl kept her eyes focused between the movement of Shigure's hand and the expression on his face, weighing the danger, trying to read him. She stood her ground. "Why the hell do you want to do this?"
"I am a surgeon. This is my life."
With a single sweep of his arm, he pivoted and carried the girl towards his home. Already his mind swam with diagrams and procedures to fix this and that- enough to drown out the struggles of this unruly little girl. Her fighting finally ceased once they entered Shigure's home. She let her body sag over his arm, defeated.
"I'm taking you to the spare room. When we get there, I'm giving you a washcloth and a basin and you're going to wash up. Then, I'll evaluate your condition," Shigure said. He set her down in a room with just a bed and shut the door as he walked back out. He returned with a steaming basin held in both hands, with a washcloth slung over one shoulder and a sort of plain white shirt to replace the girl's filthy dress. As he left, Shigure said, "Holler if you need any assistance."
She caught him in the doorway. "I didn't agree to this."
He didn't even bother turning around. "If you cared about your own well being, you would."
…
Shigure returned to find the girl sitting next to the basin, twirling the dirt in the water around her finger. As soon as he came within five feet, the girl turned her head and watched him, every move he made. Shigure gestured for her to follow him and he led her to his operating room. It was sparsely furnished, as usual. The main equipment also serving as the light source hung over the operating table. Beside that was a small rolling table that came to Shigure's waist upon which were a series of various instruments.
"I'll first need to take a look at all of the damage on your body," Shigure said as he girl sat on the table. A haze of mistrust came over the girl's blank stare. She must have trained herself to hide her emotions. "I suppose I must again remind you that I am a surgeon. I have no interest in doing anything to you that doesn't involve your treatment."
"I don't want any treatment," the girl said.
"Listen here, child." Shigure's voice took on a firm tone for the first time since this encounter. "You clearly have contracture scars of some sort of your face and arm that I can see. If you don't know what it means, it means you've been injured below the surface of your skin and could be affecting your nerves, your muscles, and possibly the bones in your arm. I don't know how you managed to survive this long in this condition without any medical attention. If you could even still retain the ability to see in your right eye, I would be impressed. You are very clearly in extreme pain. I don't need to use my expertise to tell you that. Without treatment, that pain will become even worse if you can imagine that. Your flesh is dying. Left untreated, you will get an infection, it will enter your bloodstream, and you will die. Is that what you want?"
Nearly inaudible, the girl answered no. With very clear reluctance, she removed the shirt and laid back on the table, arms spread eagled and legs parted just beyond shoulder width. Shigure stepped forward and took a magnifier and a flashlight, along with a scalpel. He started with her face. He brushed back the girl's bands- the damage extended a few inches above the hairline. Her ear was hanging loosely on the bits of cartilage that resisted complete destruction. He briefly waved the flashlight over the girl's right eye. As he suspected, the pupil didn't dilate.
"How long has it been since your accident?" Shigure asked.
"A week."
A week? This kid has more pain tolerance than most of his last patients. "What happened?"
"Acid." She paused to let that sink in. "I did it." That she seemed proud of.
"Where are your guardians? How did you have access to something this dangerous?"
"We always have it. He uses it when someone does something without his permission. If someone doesn't pay up, he'll get a guard and pour it over their cock or into their pussy so they can never fuck again."
"Who told you to say those things?"
"What? Isn't that what it is?"
"Do you know what those words mean?"
"You're a surgeon. You should know what a cock is. You have one, too."
The girl shifted her legs apart a bit more, enough for a cursory glance to notice her hymen showed signs of sexual activity. Shigure could feel bile rising to his throat. This was worse than he thought. "Those are words adults use. You're not an adult. Who is this 'he' you referred to?"
Her face filled with rage and she pounded her first into the table. "That has nothing to do with this treatment and you know it!"
"…Do you have any other injuries?" To which Shigure received a forceful no. So much for the ounce of trust he gained. He turned back to inspecting the scars on her abdomen. The scars went down to her thigh, but it didn't appear to have been as extensive as it was on her shoulder and arm. He had her sit up. He tapped her left knee. The reflex worked as expected. He tried the right, but the movement wasn't as smooth. It seemed like some minor nerve damage. He'd have to do some work there. He asked, "How old are you?"
"Seven."
"Your name?"
"I'm not telling."
Now she's just getting to be a grating brat. "Fine. Squeeze my finger with your right hand as tight as you can." He put his index finger into the middle of her palm. She did nothing for a few moments. Based on her expression, the pause wasn't intentional. She stared at her arm, as though trying to forcefully will her hand to close. She started to panic and mouthed "move, move…" Shigure didn't have the heart to push her anymore. It was clear her nerves have been affected.
"I have no choice. Your right eye and arm have to go," Shigure said. The girl looked like she was trying to hold back tears. "I'll replace them. I'll put the parts together and you'll be good as new. As far as the skin grafts will go…"
"I want these scars," the girl said. "I don't want them fixed."
"Tell me why."
She dodged the question. "I don't have money…" She parted her legs. Dread filled her voice. "All I have is…"
"Don't you even think it. All I want is your story." The girl seemed puzzled. "You have until your recovery to tell me. I'll start your surgery tomorrow. Tonight I'll assemble the parts. But first, I'll get you something to eat. Get dressed and come with me."
…
The girl spent the majority of the night in the spare room. Shigure heard her steps enter his workshop long after dark. He glanced at her over his shoulder before returning to work. The girl examined the arm which was, at that time, nearly finished.
"This will be your new arm," Shigure said.
She smiled for the first time. "I love it."
…
The girl ended up falling asleep in the chair next to Shigure. He considered taking her back to the spare room, but he didn't want to risk waking her. For the briefest of moments, Shigure indulged himself in the fantasy that this was his daughter, although years had long since passed. If his daughter was still around, she would have been a grown woman, hopefully with children of her own.
Shigure finished the arm and eye by the end of the night. He was no stranger to all-nighters, having done his fair share of hours long procedures. The longest one to date was a twenty-seven hour operations constructing spirit enhancers along the spinal column of a mercenary.
He thought of the evaluation. The way the girl spread her legs and so casually described sexual things. What the hell happened to her? Who the hell could have done this to a child?
Moreover, he couldn't deny that for a child, her genitals were too developed. It was unnatural. Bile rose to his throat again.
…
The main issue with the arm was finding a way to connect it to the nerves at the base of the neck that were still functional, ensuring smooth communication between the brain and the artificial limb. Considering Shigure couldn't check to see how far below the dermis the damage went without completely cutting the girl open, he could only assume. For the implant on the girl's ear, in addition to serving as a hearing aid, he planned on adding an extra wire to connect the brain and the arm directly to ensure all bodily communications worked efficiently.
"What I'm about to do will require an empty stomach," Shigure said as he gave the girl a bowl of broth. "This is all I can give you at the moment. You will need to be unconscious for the eye, but I will allow you the choice to stay awake for the rest of the procedure. Should you choose to stay awake for part of the time, I'd rather you not vomit all over the table. Even asleep, I'd rather you not choke on your own vomit. I put a lot of work into these prosthetics and I won't have you dying before you can use them."
The girl was silent. Evidently, she had reluctantly resigned herself to the fact that she would have to trust him with her unconscious body for who knows how long. She took a small sip of the broth before asking, "Can I have the arm after?"
"Just don't hope for the eye."
…
The girl wanted to stay awake for the arm amputation. Normally Shigure would not put his patients under anesthesia, but for a child, he couldn't see himself putting them in such pain. (Not that he'd ever had a child patient before.) He reminded the girl again of the amount of pain this surgery could be.
"I've been in worse pain," was all she said.
So began the delicate process of removing the dead tissue. Shigure began first by marking spots on the girl's right side. She still had some sensation within the three inch radius around her shoulder socket, although not a strong as it was on her left side. Still, it appeared promising enough.
He made the first incision. The girl stayed straight faced as best as she could during the whole of the surgery. Her eyes stared straight above, sometimes looking at Shigure's face, teeth gritting back any sound of pain. Definitely one hell of a pain tolerance. The girl made only the smallest of groans when the arm was attached, metal going in through the socket to connect to the flesh and bone there. To connect the nerves of the transplant to her body's system, he had to give her a slight jolt, which shook the girl enough to force a sharp shrill half scream. Then there was a deep sigh.
Shigure took a small cup of water and brought it to the girl's lips.
"We have just completed the first part of your operation," Shigure said. He picked up the syringe with the anesthetic. "You will be complete when you wake."
…
The girl woke seven hours after the surgery. She was staring at the door when Shigure entered, a bundle in his arms. Still sore from the procedure, she reached out with her left arm. She held her amputated arm as though it was a precious infant. She had nothing to say as she gazed upon it. Just as wordlessly, she passed it back. Shigure rolled it back into a bundle as he started to leave.
"Mukuro."
Shigure turned around, confused.
"I call myself Mukuro," the girl said.
Mukuro. As in "body." Or "corpse."
…
Onto the second examination. Now having the implant in her ear and eye, Mukuro was able to walk in a straight line unaided and her balance had reached an equilibrium she didn't realize was missing. Though unsure if she was right or left handed, she found she favored her left hand since it had a superior sense of touch. As for the grip test, when her hand closed to a fist on Shigure's finger, a proud grin crossed her lips.
Shigure asked as she released his finger, "Were you a prisoner of war?"
"What do you mean?" Mukuro asked. "What makes you think so?"
Shigure stared at her face for a moment. She really was genuinely confused. He sharply took in a deep breath. "There are wars constantly. Between different tribes and gangs. Often times, with girls and women during war, they…" How do you explain this to a child? "When I examined you, I noticed that your body displayed evidence of…?"
"Because someone fucked me, is what you mean?"
"Don't say that."
"What should I say then?"
"You were raped, weren't you? You didn't want to do what they made you?"
Mukuro's face went blank for a moment. She groaned and clutched at her head. Soon, her fingers tugged at her hair and her breath started to pick up. Through gritted teeth, she growled, "It's how I was made. They made me this way. I hate them for it. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I ha-" She shrieked and balled herself up. Just as quickly, she unfurled and began to thrash around, falling off the examining table and writhing on the floor as though having a seizure. Shigure tried to calm her, but the second he came close, Mukuro shrieked again, more animalistic and shrill. She wedged herself under the table as much as she could while still feverishly throwing herself about.
Shigure backed away slowly the way someone does a rabid animal. He stood and waited for Mukuro to calm down a bit. He said softly, "Just know this. I could never do that to a child. If I knew the son of a bitch who did this to you, I would torture him. I would make him feel the pain you felt and worse. I have no sympathy for anyone who does this kind of harm to a child. They are below the vilest scum."
"…Just go away…"
He did as she asked.
…
Mukuro left that day. Shigure returned to the examining room to find it empty. The spare room and the rest of the house was empty as well. He considered going out to call for her.
But he knew, she was long gone.
…
A few years down the road, Shigure heard someone enter his home as he repaired a piece of equipment. They were small, light steps. He didn't turn around. He just waited for them to come closer.
"It broke," she said.
"You've grown since then. Surely you didn't expect it to last forever," Shigure replied.
Mukuro's small hand reached over and turned Shigure around in his chair. Mukuro was dressed in heavy robes, hood pulled back to show her face. She'd since cut her hair short. As evidenced by the crookedness of the job, she'd done it herself to keep the hair away from her eyes. Obviously the eye was not the problem. Mukuro held up her right hand. The fingers were bent and the pinky looked as though it was about to fall off its screws.
"Really, I shouldn't have had to tell you not to go around punching boulders," Shigure said. Mukuro's face when into a sour expression. "I've really never seen a child as humorless as you."
"Show me how to fix it," Mukuro said.
"…If you stayed longer, maybe I could have taught you some proper manners."
He removed Mukuro's artificial arm at the shoulder and remeasured her arm to make adjustments to its length. Considering she was already a small child, Shigure wasn't surprised she hadn't grown too much since he last saw her. He didn't imagine her growing much more than five feet tall at adulthood. Still it at least didn't mean he'd have to do these repairs too often. He picked up a screw.
"What are you using?" Mukuro asked.
Shigure sighed. "There's a chair in the corner of the room. Sit next to me." He waited for her to do so. She seemed excited to see the process. He couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "I use a sort of alloy that is rust and stain resistant. It's not too awful hard to come by if you know how to look for it. There's mills to the south of here that manufacture it so if you want to get some, get it here. It's cheapest around these parts. You need to make sure to oil the joints and apply a layer of varnish and you'll be more resistant to dents and scratches. Keep up with the care and you won't worry about the possibility of breaking. It would be less work if you allow me to put artificial skin over it."
"I don't need it to look natural."
Considering the dense layers of robe she was wearing, he began to understand. "Right. If you come by dragon scale oil, it lasts the longest and does the most for this material. It's pricey but you'll get your money's worth." Not that he was sure how this child could have any money through less seedy means. "As far as lubricant goes, any regular kind would do. The more expensive ones on the market aren't any better than the cheaper ones. This is a process you have to do regularly so it's not a question of durability like the dragon scale oil. My personal preference is TK-50. Heavy machinery uses it so I feel it's worthy for your case, plus you can buy in bulk for convenience."
"And to repair it…?"
"With your level of impatience, I'm surprised you didn't launch yourself out of the womb upon conception."
With that, Shigure earned a chuckle. There was hope for her yet.
Shigure took the arm apart and reassembled it with the corrected proportions. Just before he could put the arm back into her shoulder, Mukuro stopped him. She wanted to watch him put it back together again and then she wanted to put it back together herself. Shigure agreed and gave her help when she got herself stumped. She insisted on doing it over and over until she was able to do it perfectly on her own. Upon her final victory, Mukuro allowed herself to completely smile.
The first thing Mukuro did with her newly fixed are was poke at the bell dangling from Shigure's temple. Shigure was puzzled but stayed still. She really seemed to enjoy playing with it. In retrospect, he realized that she wasn't staring at the ceiling during her surgery- it was the bell the whole time. Mukuro continued playing with it with the same mesmerized expression he remembered his infant daughter had as she played with it.
"Does it hurt when I do this?" Mukuro asked.
"What do you mean?" Shigure asked. Mukuro gently swiped a finger across Shigure's cheek. He hadn't realized that a tear slipped out. "Do you cry when you're in pain?"
"Sadness is a kind of pain, isn't it?"
"Fair point. I hadn't realized…" He wiped the rest of the moisture from his face. "I was just… remembering someone."
It was silent for a moment. Softly, Mukuro said, "I'll tell if you will. You have two more guesses anyway."
"I'm sorry?"
Mukuro patted her right arm. "If you guess my story right, I'll tell you everything. You get two more guesses. You already used one before."
He's almost forgotten about that moment. "I thought we agreed that you'd tell me your story in exchange for your treatment. And why three guesses?"
"I like the number three." In the strange logic of children, that explanation was enough. She looked down at her feet and bit her lip. Then she let out a deep sigh. "You got one part right. I… didn't know that you were supposed to call it that. I wasn't taught the right words for what actually happened."
"So you trust me now?"
"You didn't rape me in my sleep. That's more than enough, isn't it?" She looked up then. In her eyes was a blaze of defiance.
There was another long silence. "I used to have a wife and a daughter. She, my daughter, was in love with this bell. Or I think so. She was a baby when… my wife killed her and herself. She would have been much older than you. I didn't know her long but I still think of her time to time. What she might have been like. Who she could have been if she lived…"
"Is that the sort of thing fathers do?"
"What do you mean?"
Mukuro shifted around on her feet. "Hey, you never did tell me your name."
"You'll give yourself whiplash switching topics that fast. My name is Shigure."
She smiled. "Well, you have another guess about my story, Shigure."
Shigure considered what happened the last time he tried. "Are you sure you're ready to talk about it? It's been a few years but you still need some time to really recover."
"Try and guess."
Okay then. "You were a child prostitute who just escaped her pimp. You accidentally injured yourself while running way." Pause. "Is that it?"
"Close."
"How close?"
Mukuro tapped at the bell at Shigure's temple again before turning around to leave. She looked over her shoulder and said, "Thank you for everything, Shigure."
…
Not long after, Shigure gained a name for himself, being deemed as The Doctor of Darkness or Doctor of the Damned. He supposed being one of the few in history to learn to implant the fabled and very much sought after Jagan Eye, for which he was mainly known for, helped a hell of a lot. He found himself thinking of that mysterious little girl who never showed up again. Shigure regretted showing her how to do the repairs herself. Though their time was little, he found he missed her company. Or maybe it was just the fantasy of her being his daughter reborn.
There was a shift in power over time. Raizen was for some time the lone ruler of Demon World. Then a masked man appeared, a real war monger for which he gained the title Mad Tyrant from his enemies.
This king's name was Mukuro.
The fact that Mukuro first targeted the monks who slaughtered Shigure's own tribesman was enough to pique his interest. He did more voluntary work for Mukuro's soldiers if commissioned to do so. If he couldn't revive his tribe on his own, finding revenge could work, too.
Perhaps it was his voluntary work that go him an invitation to join Mukuro's forces officially. Having just completed his final Jagan implant upon the infamous bandit known as Hiei, Shigure felt complete enough to comply. He was surprised that with acceptance of his invitation, the king requested a personal audience with him.
The room they met in was empty. Just the Mad Tyrant standing in waiting. The king wasn't a big person in the slightest, about two-thirds of Shigure's size, and his face was covered, save for one eye peeking between the bandages and seals.
"You know who I am, don't you?" the king asked.
"Taken good care of that arm, I assume?" Shigure responded.
Mukuro parted the bandages away enough that Shigure could see her face. "I've also picked up a trick or two. Good call on the Dragon scale oil. It was one hell of a god send." She opened and closed her fist to demonstrate the ease at which the joints still moved. Damn, she learned quick. Could make a father proud.
"Before you ask, I have long since held myself to an oath of secrecy. I never disclose details of my operations on anymore. No one will ever get wind that you're actually a woman."
"Are you declining my offer?"
"I didn't say that. I was simply adding that as a preface." Shigure bowed. "I would be honored to become part of your story."
…
After the tournament, Mukuro approached Shigure. "You know, you still have one guess left. Seeing as neither one of us is getting any younger, why don't you give it a shot?"
"I don't think I'd ever want to know. Not really. What I do have is more than enough," Shigure replied after a long silence. "If my daughter had lived, I could only hope that she would have been as interesting as you." When she gave him a look of confusion, he said, "My people believed that to be a legend is the highest honor you could ever achieve. You will pass onto the afterlife and the gods will appreciate your glory."
"Shigure. Trust me. You are a legend."
Notes: SHIGURE SAW HIS KING'S VAGINA? -insert shocked gasping face emoji- (Because I find I have to make a bad joke every story I write)
Just going to say straight off, I'm well aware that it makes no sense for Shigure to have been the one that put on Mukuro's cybernetic implants. I just heard that theory a few times and I really thought it was interesting. As far as what Shigure replaced- the eye and the arm… Considering how much of the eye is exposed at all times, it would be impossible for Mukuro to have a completely organic eye, even her original (and obviously extremely damaged) eye, the lack of moisture would make that hell. I had to squint a lot to see how to replace the leg, still I have to be true to the original design as in both the manga and anime, Mukuro does have a replaced leg. I skipped over that part and didn't realize til the final draft... Sorry? I tried my best to keep both realistic ideas about the process of the replacements while keeping in with the dark fantasy feel of the series… In reality, to do a lot of this stuff would require several different surgeries and a hell of a lot of physical therapy.
As far as Shigure goes, I kind of have a weird thing about thinking of cultural aspects of people's lives. The more I think of Demon World, the more I wonder about the cultural subsets and all that. Plus, I just wanted an excuse to finally make that totally kawaii desu bell on his head make sense. Dude's got piercings I think Marilyn Manson dreams of. I unfortunately could not account for that stupid thing he puts in his ears. Or that borderline man bun he's got going on. But at least he isn't speaking Ye Olde Englishe like in the Viz manga translation, right? Also, sorry, Shigure, I didn't mean to make you this much of a cuck.
For the uninitiated, Hippocrates is an early Greek figure from which we derive the term "Hippocratic Oath."
In short, I just picked a cool sounding name that has nothing to do with the story except both have to do with doctors.