Disclaimer: Dunno where this came from…
Beta'd by: miyagiCE
Warning: Off-color humor and abuse of ellipses (and em dashes (and parentheses)).
Hojo, Meet Hojo
"G-General Sephiroth, sir!" the heretofore nameless grunt barged into the simulation room in the middle of a fight between the top three Firsts in the company. "HURK!"
It was by higher intervention or sheer dumb luck that the nameless grunt managed to have a stray magic attack miss him by a foot, still close enough for him to hear the faint sizzle of the fireball and know the sleeve of his uniform was done for. The falling debris he would have probably died from, if it weren't a simulation and winked out seconds after he opened the door.
It looked like Sephiroth and Genesis weren't going to stop just because of that little distraction though – not that they had even listened to Angeal's stern reprimand seconds before.
"General Sephiroth, sir!" the grunt recovered from his near death experience relatively fast for an obvious red-shirt, "Doctor Hojo—"
At the mention of the oily, hunchbacked scientist, the mood was killed faster than thinking of Palmer in a bikini (the lard tea definitely went somewhere) doing the can-can with a tutu wearing Heidegger – and this is with the reality that once you think of Heidegger as a ballerina, the mind would inevitably lead to adding tiny pink bows to his beard and doubtless other hairy places like braiding his armpit hair and tying it off with one of those same pink bows or—
"Explosion in the lab! Doctor Hojo was in the lab explosion and Director Lazard asks that you save the Doctor!"
Considering that Sephiroth had shut off his PHS for the 'friendly' duel that would in another time have Angeal accidentally injure Genesis and cause the redhead to go prematurely gray, become more melodramatic than Macbeth, and, oh yeah, one supposes that that whole degradation thing was important…
The three friends noticeably relaxed their stances, swords pointed to the floor as an obvious signal the match was stopped for the moment.
"Explosion, huh, I thought that was just Sephiroth decimating the simulated environment," Angeal remarked casually as he recalled a faint shuddering around the same time the silver-haired SOLDIER decided to redecorate the surroundings by chopping up buildings and large infrastructure (Angeal actually thought his long-haired friend had a secret fetish over wide-scale property damage behind that devil-may-care professionalism; he wouldn't be surprised if Sephiroth suddenly started burning random buildings for the destruction despite Genesis being the pyromaniac amongst the trio).
"How long ago was this?" Genesis voiced aloud.
"About ten minutes ago, sir," the nameless grunt looked around in slight confusion over the Firsts just casually standing there instead of leaving the room.
Sephiroth, for his part, was silently hoping the slimy disgusting excuse for a human – he wasn't even going to touch the fact that half of his genes came from the man – died in the explosion. Or was bleeding fatally right this moment and each second wasted equaled a greater chance of the scientist croaking it like the insidious toad he was.
It wasn't patricide if he didn't DIRECTLY kill Hojo off, right? Right?
Surely the accidental killing of a person by inaction wasn't his fault? Sephiroth had mitigating circumstances that kept him from 'saving' the scientist quick enough like… the fact he needed to wash his long, ShinRa-regulated hair. Or maybe his boots were untied (ignoring they buckled up) which prevented him from reaching the pinned down Hojo quick enough to prevent that loose bit of ceiling squishing that dirty, unwashed head into paste.
Hm.
Instead of a piece of the building, maybe a scalpel would be better— a whole tray of surgical instruments with a sharp steel knife popping an eye, letting a mixture of clear jelly and blood ooze out before the tray itself landed and drove it into Hojo's brain… and—
"Sir?"
Sephiroth blinked and stared at the grunt who had been addressing him. "What?"
"Um… Director Lazard… um… Professor Hojo…"
"Was it an order?" Sephiroth clarified (further procrastinated).
Genesis snorted. Angeal, for his part, tried to give a look of disapproval though it was quite difficult considering it was Hojo, after all.
The grunt had an uneasy feeling but replied, "Sir, yes, sir!"
Sephiroth continued to contemplate the merits of denying the order as was his right as a SOLDIER First – of which there were many – before Angeal cleared his throat. The silver-haired General sighed, "Oh, fine; I'll retrieve the… Professor."
Maybe Sephiroth could 'help' the man along if he was at death's door (or not) by accidentally skewering Hojo with Masamune. And then chopping off his limbs, opening him up and prodding his organs while asking 'does this hurt? does this hurt?'.
(It wasn't considered parricide if you had no respect for the person and considered them the last possible 'father' candidate, though was a homicidal tendency in thinking so violently over killing someone – but what ShinRa employee wasn't a little homicidal, yeah?)
Nonetheless, Sephiroth was (a little disappointed when he was) unable to find hide nor greasy hair of a living or dead Professor Hojo. Instead, the General was frankly a bit confused when, amongst the completely bombed lab, he found a slightly out-of-place young man under some of the debris.
"Who are you?" the SOLDIER First bluntly asked since he was still hoping he might 'help' his father and finally become a 'poor' orphan at last. "A new intern?"
The teen looked up, revealing mussed dark-brown hair, dark eyes, and a faint Wutain cast to his features. He looked slightly surprised at the sight of Sephiroth. "Anou… I-I'm not sure of where I am," his shaky accented words soon smoothed out as he gained steam, "I was heading into the class lab in the University when I found myself here. Oh, my name's Hojo. As for intern, I haven't really chosen a specialty yet."
Sephiroth stared as the young man claiming to be named 'Hojo' stood up and brushed off the white lab-coat he wore.
The General wondered what 'experiments' the insane Professor was doing because if this was what it looks like…
Well, actually, it looked like a bad case of de-aging and amnesia of which Sephiroth had to grudgingly admit Hojo might indeed be his father and not just a freak of nature lying about the silver-haired man's parentage. Sephiroth had never truly considered Hojo donating half his DNA to create him (bleh, Sephiroth didn't even WANT to contemplate the actual process of procreation that made him if it involved Hojo in ANY way) seriously considering they looked absolutely nothing alike. It was always easy to overlook any relation to Hojo, with Sephiroth safely thinking he got everything from his mother (and therefore nothing from his potential cancer of a father), but the General had to unhappily concede that maybe he did get some of his looks from Hojo if the nasty man had looked like that when younger.
Sephiroth made a mental note to ask Genesis about anti-aging creams because, from the evidence, the coming years ain't gonna be pretty.
Hojo looked around his current surroundings from his position on the floor, having fallen and not really had the time to stand up yet. He adjusted his glasses before getting off the linoleum floor, having fallen in front of a door in a hallway. He dusted himself off with a frown, mind trying to figure out what exactly he did to cause this reaction and therefore not noticing the woman closing in on him with determination until she spoke.
"There you are! I was looking all over for you; I thought we were supposed to meet in my office? But there isn't the time. Thank you for coming in at the last notice to be the Forensics Professor, I'm the Dean and… I'm afraid I didn't catch your name?"
Hojo stared at the woman with narrowed eyes, his Wutain a bit rusty after working at ShinRa for so long. He was still mentally trying to translate the woman's rapid words when he caught the 'your name' part. "Hojo—"
"Hojo-sensei," the woman cut him off from saying his full name and potentially ruining canon, "You seem to have found the lab and it's been five minutes since class should have begun so if you don't mind, we'll just go in and start. The syllabus and everything else is in this folder."
For the first time in history, the psychopathic scientist was manhandled by a short, middle-aged woman who had shoved some papers at him before grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him into the room he had landed in front of.
The only reason the Dean wasn't shot was the fact the black body bag on a metal slab in the room (the milling students were ignored) had caught Hojo's attention.
A person could make a tasteless joke about the good Professor and his cadaver fetish but, let's just leave it at that before the rating is upped irrevocably. Plus, losing one's lunch from reading this is not an incentive to actually crack necrophilia jokes – those are left for stories with vampires in them. (Granted, Hojo probably suffered from mutilomania and therefore it wasn't just limited to corpses… but, again, let's not go there.)
"—the Science Department will try their best attempting to reverse the accident but Professor Hojo was responsible, among many other things, for the care and monitoring of SOLDIERs, and his post cannot remain empty. Since most of the preexisting staff that can fill the position is occupied with temporarily taking charge of Professor Hojo's other projects and experiments, and you've studied medicine, I think it would be best if you temporarily took over that responsibility," Lazard finished his explanations after the techies and lab-coats figured out whatever Hojo had been doing had created a time-space flux, essentially creating a controlled black hole (or something like it) that sucked the scientist in and spat out the young man in front of him who was from the other side of wherever the Professor went. It frankly went way over the blond's head, though the Hojo in front of him seemed to have understood the scientific babble he quoted almost verbatim from the Science Department.
Frankly, Lazard was still having a hard time believing the brunet in front of him was the exact same age as General Sephiroth (was actually a little older).
It was one hell of a baby face; Hojo looked nineteen if you were pushing it.
"But I don't have a license to practice yet," the brunet exclaimed in discomfort.
"Professor Hojo doesn't actually have a medical license either—" Sephiroth would be shocked. No. Really. "—It would probably be in your interests to accept the request, as you'll get housing and a salary which would otherwise be difficult to have considering your circumstances."
It need not be said that if Hojo didn't accept, he'd be a lab experiment, does it?
"…I'm not sure," Hojo bit his lip in indecision. He had went into the medical field because of interest developed at the end of middle school, when Higurashi Kagome had a slew of illnesses in the first half of Third Year, and gained a want to help the sick and to see to people's well-being. Hojo wanted to help these SOLDIERs since the one he switched with sounded like he had an important position for the well-being of these men, and Lazard made it sound like the post would be empty until they found a suitable candidate if Hojo declined, but he wasn't sure he would be truly helpful…
"Don't worry, there will be material provided for you to study so you can better understand your task. The specific cocktail given to SOLDIERs might be a problem since only Professor Hojo knows the actual process of making it but there are enough doses for potential individuals entering the program since only a handful actually become SOLDIERs every year. Hopefully, we'll have the situation sorted out before then," Lazard shuffled and straightened the papers in front of him.
Lazard should have known better; wishful thinking just attracts Murphy and (sometimes) his buddy Finagle to party.
"Hojo-sensei, what is this I hear about you conscripting students to be lab subjects?" the Dean asked as she sat behind her desk.
The madman scowled darkly, not having forgotten how this woman had managed to confiscate his pistol when she confronted him over a complaint from a student and he had attempted to blow her brains out. He wouldn't admit he was wary over the tiny woman, "I was just—"
"You will not use our students as guinea pigs, Hojo-sensei. Do you understand?"
"Damn woman, ruin my fun, why don't you!"
Genesis slammed the door to the office Hojo had situated himself in, lacking the usual flair as he walked up to the startled twenty-three year old and dropped to one of the seats before the desk, "I came here to get a second opinion."
It had been several months since Hojo had arrived in this world, having spent most of his time reading up on mako, medical techniques, and SOLDIER test results. It had been several months since he had taken this post and the redhead before him was actually his first 'patient'. Apparently, his initial thoughts of the job was wrong and he would only be 'busy' about four times a year.
"I see…" Hojo slowly closed the folder that had been opened in front of him, "Well, my name is—"
"Hojo, I know," the redhead cut in, "Even the same Wutain characters as the psycho you replaced."
"Um," the brunet cleared his throat, "You're Genesis Rhapsodos, right? I don't have records of your medical files…"
Genesis looked rumpled, his skin was clammy, complexion pale, and he had deep circled under his eyes.
"Are you alright?" Hojo asked in concern and alarm, standing up and moving around the desk.
"Of course not. I came here for a second opinion; Doctor Hollander said I don't have much longer to live and I remembered hearing you were a Doctor too," Genesis said with irritated anxiety as he slowly took off his right glove.
Hojo winced at the mention of Hollander, having met the man who apparently wanted this post and therefore loathed Hojo who actually had it. His attention was drawn to the obvious cellular necrosis of the revealed hand.
"I haven't taken the exams to actually be called a Doctor," Hojo started as he surveyed the hand by sight, "I don't know your medical history— how did you hurt your hand?"
"Paper-cut."
Genesis would never look at his precious LOVELESS book the same again.
"Paper-cut?" Hojo repeated before he straightened up and gestured to the adjoining examination room. He pulled on a pair of medical gloves as Genesis settled himself on the comfortable patient chair. Hojo sat on the swivel chair and delicately examined the hand by holding the wrist and turning it left and right, so deep in thought he reverted to his bad habit of information babble (probably developed from facing his crush and explaining his gifts because of nerves), "Cellular necrosis occurs when a sudden failure of part of the cell triggers a cascade effect. Lysosome membrane damage can trigger release of cellular material digesting enzymes, destroying other parts of the cell. For the necrosis to have become this widespread from a paper-cut… when did you get the paper-cut, Mister Rhapsodos?"
"A few weeks ago."
"To treat cellular necrosis, you would usually need to treat the underlying cause before removal of the necrotic tissue," he muttered half to himself, "There's also SOLDIER healing to consider. SOLDIERs apparently have a higher immune system…"
Hojo stood up and went toward the drawers, "Mister Rhapsodos, considering I don't have your medical file—" and it was doubtful he could retrieve it with the three top SOLDIER Firsts having classified medical files (though he did have the file for General Sephiroth) and the fact Hollander hated him "—I would need a full blood workup to potentially find the cause of why you aren't healing."
Genesis did not say anything as the brunet Doctor – it was easier to just call him that – pulled a wheeled table toward him and directed him through standard tests of getting on the scale to measure weight and height, checking blood pressure, auscultation, and the like, while asking when was the last time he ate before drawing several vials of blood. Despite not being an official medical doctor, the redhead thought this Hojo was rather competent (ignoring the habit of muttering medical jargon but it was a benefit to Genesis compared to Hollander's cryptic explanations), though maybe Genesis was just affected by the potential different conclusion the younger Doctor might make.
When Hojo set the lab equipment working and did the SOLDIER specific blood test (at least 10ml of blood mixed with undiluted mako), the brunet started to earnestly question Genesis about his symptoms, which lead to the redhead telling Hojo Hollander's diagnosis (minus the exact circumstances of his birth but telling him about the degradation) which led to the brunet retrieving a DNA sample.
A few hours later, thanks to Hojo mistaking JENOVA cells for cancer in Genesis, the redhead was flagged for medical treatment, leaving Genesis unable to go on the Mission to capture Fort Tamblin in Wutai (Angeal and Zack were sent in his stead) because he was chest deep in the care of Hojo, who believed the redhead had a fighting chance if they could stop the steady unraveling of his health and thereby preventing the inevitable full-cascade failure.
Lazard was cursing his choice of placing the brunet at that post who turned out to actually be competent and Hollander was just plain cursing. Hojo was oblivious he ruined the plans of several people, only concerned with saving his patient.
"Hojo, talk some sense into Angeal!"
The brunet didn't even flinch when his office door was slammed open, used to Genesis's rather loud entrance by now. He was also rather used to the redhead's aggressive, melodramatic, forceful personality (summarily equivalent to the definition of 'Prima Donna'). "Um, sorry?"
"Angeal, show him," Genesis half-ordered once he closed the office door for some privacy.
"But G—"
"Do it," the redhead insisted to his best friend before turning to the rather curiously confused Doctor, "I've told you about my… origins and Angeal's mother is where I received the DNA sample from."
The brunet's eyes widened as the large First lived up to his name and sprouted a pair of pure white wings from his right shoulder. Hojo could have spouted poetic verses and praise over Angeal but he's a straight man, so let's leave it at the thought that Angeal Hewley would have been what Kagome's big brother would look like if she had one (because, let's face it, Hojo honestly never gave up his attraction to the angelic blue-eyed miko, despite her being married for over half a decade and himself going on the rare date or group meet-up).
"Angeal considers himself a monster—" Genesis started.
Angeal was probably the farthest thing from a monster – at least Genesis had black wings, which reminded Hojo of the Japanese folktales of tengu (and 'youkai' could be translated as 'monsters' or would 'demon' be better? Hojo mentally ruminated the difficulties of Western sensibilities over good and evil aligning with Eastern philosophy).
"—so talk to him!" the redhead demanded.
"I-I'm not a therapist, Genesis," Hojo said somewhat hopelessly to the redhead, knowing he wouldn't win, before directing his attention to Angeal with a soothing smile, "But I'd be happy to explain to Mister Hewley that he is not a monster. I've heard stories about you being a mentor and role model for many of the Second and Third Class SOLDIERs, along with you being an exemplary model citizen who is honorable and of good character. It is what's inside – the soul and heart – that differentiates a good person and a monster.
"If you want, I can explain to you what has happened to your DNA structure and how it affects you. It might actually be a good thing you found yourself in a situation that caused you to grow wings, Mister Hewley, since Genesis's treatment had hit a plateau because I lacked a comparison to know exactly what is the problem with his genetic makeup but you might be able to help by giving another sample to compare it with!"
He wasn't a therapist but he might as well be one since SOLDIERs didn't have health problems more than emotional and mental ones. And it was just Hojo's luck that he began a precedent with his first patient, the biggest diva of them all.
"So, like, you couldn't believe the ruckus made over the fact Lazard was actually Shinra's bastard son trying to overturn the company through the inside – when we went to capture him, it turns out Hollander did something that turned Lazard into a monster! And it was this nasty-looking thing, too; Lazard's skin started bubbling and then he sort of blew up like Genesis's attempt at rhubarb pie – which managed to look deceptively normal before it was set onto the table and exploded into the faces of the people sitting at Angeal's dinner table – becoming this purple-gray greenish thingy."
Hojo nodded at Zack's story showing he was listening, grimacing at the younger but taller and bigger male's grotesque but humorous description of the Director who sort of had been his immediate boss, while he prepared the newly minted SOLDIER First for one of the only two cocktails that was to be given to a Second Class being promoted to First. The brunet had made a mental note to study the other dose and see if he could make more of it since the luminescent liquid made the twenty-four year old curious as to what caused such drastic difference in ability between the two Classes, when there wasn't too much of a difference between Third and Second.
And, yeah, there is also the fact the one-year mark was coming up since he arrived in this world.
"He sorta ended up looking like lumpy porridge mixed with purple gunk – oh, there are these blue potatoes in Gongaga, with blue skin and blue insides. Yeah! That's it. He ended up turning into a giant, mashed-potato monster! But where was I? So Lazard turned into a monster and we had to—"
Blah. Blah. Blah. We are all now aware that Zackary Fair has a problem with shutting up, and apparently staying still with how the teen was fidgeting in the patient's chair as Hojo hesitantly held the syringe back in case Zack moving would cause him to miss the vein.
"—and it all began with Angeal going to visit his mom. I'm not sure how that ended up with Hollander and Lazard getting dragged out of their job positions but—"
Let's just move on before he proves that metaphysical ears can be talked off – we're not male versions of Kasumi Tendo like Hojo the Younger is, after all, with the patience and naivete of a saint.
End Notes: Don't know if I'll ever continue this… I wrote it when I was hyper on lack-of-sleep/sugar/caffeine awhile ago and you can clearly see when I was beginning to crash. And since I'm rarely jacked up, I'm not sure if I'm capable of emulating the above writing style when sober.
(By the way, the 'giant, mashed-potato monster' comment was taken from Suiren by Eimii. Sorry about Zack's generic characterization there, while I'm at it; I took the simplified, fanon route.)