It was the afternoon of a gorgeous summer day, but to
the three people standing in the room off of the Intensive
Care Unit, it felt more like the dark of winter. Over the
past month many a meeting had happened between these three
people. Sometimes there were more people involved in the
meeting, sometimes less. Regardless, since that awful
accident almost thirty days ago, these three had often
been in conversation.
The doctor in the room had limited this conversation to
the two people standing in front of him because he knew it
would be delicate. Legally, he could not make the decisions
that needed to made with out the consent of the two people in
front of him, who were the parents of his patient; however,
if he had included the patient's three siblings, he would have
had to include the patient's living grandparents as well. That
would be at least an extra six people in the room...and that
was before dealing with the requests of aunts, uncles, and
close family friends to be included.
Normally, he would be moved and motivated by the obvious
loving family of this patient; but, in this special case at
least, the family got in the way of him doing his job. That
just gave the doctor a headache.
"It's been almost twenty seven days and there still has not
been any change since the accident. You may," here the doctor
paused, knowing the awful alternative he was about to deliver.
"You may want to consider removing the life support."
"No!" the mother immediately shouted. "That's my son in
there! I won't give up on him. Not yet! He'll pull through,"
she insisted.
"Mrs. Ikeda-" the doctor began.
"That's Dr. Washington-Ikeda to you," the woman immediately
corrected the middle-aged specialist.
The doctor sighed mentally for about the fortieth time that
week. It wasn't that Dr. Washington-Ikeda wasn't a nice woman
or a good person. Normally, she was. In fact, she was more
gracious and generous to the hospital staff than most mothers
in her situation. But she was a lioness when she fought for
her children, and she would use every advantage at her disposal
to get the best for them, including using the title that her
PhD in Political Science afforded her. For his part, her husband
was a patient and strong man, but also a man who would do whatever
he could to protect and keep his family happy. Not a nice combination
in situations such as these.
"Dr. Washington-Ikeda, Mr. Ikeda," the doctor tried again, "it is
likely that he won't survive the week. But, even if for some reason
he does, his brain was oxygen-deprived for an extended period of
time. He'll probably have amnesia or suffer from delusions or any
number of mental defects. There is no telling if he'll even be able
to speak or walk. That is a huge burden to take on-"
"But I'm not giving up on my son! Are you suggesting we kill
him now on the off chance that he survives and is handicapped?!"
the mother's voice broke slightly, but she tried to continue.
"What kind of sick-" was all she managed to get out before she
choked on her tears and buried her head in her husband's shoulder.
The father eyes had narrowed at the doctor's speech as well.
"That is my son," he said in a quiet, measured and angry voice.
"We will do whatever we have to keep him healthy and happy,
especially if God gives him back to us. Don't presume to tell
us to give up now."
"But your other children-" the doctor began.
Only to be cut off by the man, "Are not spares. They love
their brother, too. This family isn't throwing in the towel, not yet.
You're stuck with us for a little longer."
The doctor nodded as he closed his patient's folder. To be
honest, he didn't like it. The young man was pretty much a lost
cause when he came through the door. But his parents insisted,
so there was nothing that could be done.
As the doctor quietly left the room as Mr. Ikeda tried to comfort
his wife, he thought that if, by some miracle, the young man did
pull through, Andrew Yusuke Ikeda was one amazingly lucky young
man to have a family like his.
This Side of Living
Chapter 1 - Back in the Living
Some people come back to conscious quickly, or at least,
More of their senses come back immediately. This young man,
unfortunately, wasn't that lucky; his process was gradual As he
became aware of the world outside of himself, the first thing he
felt was immense pain. The kind of pain that made being thrown
around by Toguro seem like a paper cut it comparison. What
had happened?
After the pain, the ability to hear returned. But that
managed to confuse him more. There were clearly other people
or other things around him. If he strained a little he could just hear
the conversation around him.
"You've been here all day. Take a little break. I'll sit here
awhile," he heard Koemna say.
That the toddler was around was strange, especially since
it sounded as if he was in his teenage form, with an even deeper
voice. But what was stranger was who replied to ruler of the Spirit
World.
"Alright. You win. I'll go down to the cafeteria and get
something to eat," said the voice of a female who sounded like the first
referee of the Dark Tournament. What was her name? Kota? And, more
importantly, why was she watching him and why did Koemna tell her
to take a break? Something really wasn't right here.
He heard rustling as if someone was getting up. "Are you
sure he'll be okay while I'm gone?" the woman asked again.
"Yes. I promise to send a nurse to find you if something
happens." Koemna confirmed.
"Okay," the female voice came one more time before he heard heels
click on the floor, moving further and further away from him.
That odd conversation was definitely motivation for the sleeping
young man to do something. Luckily, at that moment, the ability to
move was regained, so he was able to move his hand slightly and
begin to open his eyes. Although he wished to move more, the pain
shortchanged his movements.
Those movements were enough however to get the attention
of the man next to the bed. Lying flat on his back, he heard the frantic
movements of the other person in the room, but he couldn't clearly
see them yet. The bright lights and his eyes didn't seem to be too
happy with each other.
As he blinked, he heard Koemna say, "Andrew? Andrew, are
you awake?"
While his brain tried to wrap itself around a very strange name,
his eyes finally began to focus. The person leaning over the bed
appearing to be very concerned about him was indeed Koemna, but a
much older looking one. This man looked to be at least 30 years older
than Koemna's teenage form. He also looked stressed, his brown hair
in total disarray and streaked with gray. Although he had often
made nasty comments about Koemna's appearance in the past, seeing a
clearly older Koemna was extremely disconcerting.
His silent stare seemed to upset this old Koemna greatly. As he
heard fast moving feet in the distance, Koemna asked again, "Andrew?
Drew, can you understand me? Can you speak at all?"
Finally, after all this time, the ability to speak finally returned.
Slowing forcing the words out of a dry throat and around a tube, the
young man in the hospital bed began to croak out, "Who-?"
He didn't get much further. At that moment, while Koemna
seemed to be thanking something called 'God' under his breath, a
clatter of heels was heard and that Dark Tournament announcer's
voice was heard again, "Andrew? Mitsuru, is something happening
to Andrew?"
Straining to see from his bed, all he could make out was
one female, who seemed to be surrounded by a sea of white. She
was a startlingly a darker hue that he expected, but he couldn't see
anything clearly that was more than five feet anyway. If anything,
the little he could see bothered him greatly.
Fixing his most intense stare (he hoped) on Koenma, he forced out
again, "Who...is...Andrew?" in a whispered tone.
The older Koemna blinked down at him. "Um...you are," he
said quietly.
At that point the seventeen year old's brain went crazy. Inside
his head, he was shouting, "WHAT?! HAS PACIFER-BREATH
REALLY LOST IT?! I'M WHO?!! WHAT'S GOING ON? WHAT
KIND OF CRAP IS HE TRYING TO PULL? WHERE THE HELL
AM I AND WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON!!!"
All the young man managed to croak out before fading back into
unconsciousness was,"What the hell is this?"
- to be continued -
the three people standing in the room off of the Intensive
Care Unit, it felt more like the dark of winter. Over the
past month many a meeting had happened between these three
people. Sometimes there were more people involved in the
meeting, sometimes less. Regardless, since that awful
accident almost thirty days ago, these three had often
been in conversation.
The doctor in the room had limited this conversation to
the two people standing in front of him because he knew it
would be delicate. Legally, he could not make the decisions
that needed to made with out the consent of the two people in
front of him, who were the parents of his patient; however,
if he had included the patient's three siblings, he would have
had to include the patient's living grandparents as well. That
would be at least an extra six people in the room...and that
was before dealing with the requests of aunts, uncles, and
close family friends to be included.
Normally, he would be moved and motivated by the obvious
loving family of this patient; but, in this special case at
least, the family got in the way of him doing his job. That
just gave the doctor a headache.
"It's been almost twenty seven days and there still has not
been any change since the accident. You may," here the doctor
paused, knowing the awful alternative he was about to deliver.
"You may want to consider removing the life support."
"No!" the mother immediately shouted. "That's my son in
there! I won't give up on him. Not yet! He'll pull through,"
she insisted.
"Mrs. Ikeda-" the doctor began.
"That's Dr. Washington-Ikeda to you," the woman immediately
corrected the middle-aged specialist.
The doctor sighed mentally for about the fortieth time that
week. It wasn't that Dr. Washington-Ikeda wasn't a nice woman
or a good person. Normally, she was. In fact, she was more
gracious and generous to the hospital staff than most mothers
in her situation. But she was a lioness when she fought for
her children, and she would use every advantage at her disposal
to get the best for them, including using the title that her
PhD in Political Science afforded her. For his part, her husband
was a patient and strong man, but also a man who would do whatever
he could to protect and keep his family happy. Not a nice combination
in situations such as these.
"Dr. Washington-Ikeda, Mr. Ikeda," the doctor tried again, "it is
likely that he won't survive the week. But, even if for some reason
he does, his brain was oxygen-deprived for an extended period of
time. He'll probably have amnesia or suffer from delusions or any
number of mental defects. There is no telling if he'll even be able
to speak or walk. That is a huge burden to take on-"
"But I'm not giving up on my son! Are you suggesting we kill
him now on the off chance that he survives and is handicapped?!"
the mother's voice broke slightly, but she tried to continue.
"What kind of sick-" was all she managed to get out before she
choked on her tears and buried her head in her husband's shoulder.
The father eyes had narrowed at the doctor's speech as well.
"That is my son," he said in a quiet, measured and angry voice.
"We will do whatever we have to keep him healthy and happy,
especially if God gives him back to us. Don't presume to tell
us to give up now."
"But your other children-" the doctor began.
Only to be cut off by the man, "Are not spares. They love
their brother, too. This family isn't throwing in the towel, not yet.
You're stuck with us for a little longer."
The doctor nodded as he closed his patient's folder. To be
honest, he didn't like it. The young man was pretty much a lost
cause when he came through the door. But his parents insisted,
so there was nothing that could be done.
As the doctor quietly left the room as Mr. Ikeda tried to comfort
his wife, he thought that if, by some miracle, the young man did
pull through, Andrew Yusuke Ikeda was one amazingly lucky young
man to have a family like his.
This Side of Living
Chapter 1 - Back in the Living
Some people come back to conscious quickly, or at least,
More of their senses come back immediately. This young man,
unfortunately, wasn't that lucky; his process was gradual As he
became aware of the world outside of himself, the first thing he
felt was immense pain. The kind of pain that made being thrown
around by Toguro seem like a paper cut it comparison. What
had happened?
After the pain, the ability to hear returned. But that
managed to confuse him more. There were clearly other people
or other things around him. If he strained a little he could just hear
the conversation around him.
"You've been here all day. Take a little break. I'll sit here
awhile," he heard Koemna say.
That the toddler was around was strange, especially since
it sounded as if he was in his teenage form, with an even deeper
voice. But what was stranger was who replied to ruler of the Spirit
World.
"Alright. You win. I'll go down to the cafeteria and get
something to eat," said the voice of a female who sounded like the first
referee of the Dark Tournament. What was her name? Kota? And, more
importantly, why was she watching him and why did Koemna tell her
to take a break? Something really wasn't right here.
He heard rustling as if someone was getting up. "Are you
sure he'll be okay while I'm gone?" the woman asked again.
"Yes. I promise to send a nurse to find you if something
happens." Koemna confirmed.
"Okay," the female voice came one more time before he heard heels
click on the floor, moving further and further away from him.
That odd conversation was definitely motivation for the sleeping
young man to do something. Luckily, at that moment, the ability to
move was regained, so he was able to move his hand slightly and
begin to open his eyes. Although he wished to move more, the pain
shortchanged his movements.
Those movements were enough however to get the attention
of the man next to the bed. Lying flat on his back, he heard the frantic
movements of the other person in the room, but he couldn't clearly
see them yet. The bright lights and his eyes didn't seem to be too
happy with each other.
As he blinked, he heard Koemna say, "Andrew? Andrew, are
you awake?"
While his brain tried to wrap itself around a very strange name,
his eyes finally began to focus. The person leaning over the bed
appearing to be very concerned about him was indeed Koemna, but a
much older looking one. This man looked to be at least 30 years older
than Koemna's teenage form. He also looked stressed, his brown hair
in total disarray and streaked with gray. Although he had often
made nasty comments about Koemna's appearance in the past, seeing a
clearly older Koemna was extremely disconcerting.
His silent stare seemed to upset this old Koemna greatly. As he
heard fast moving feet in the distance, Koemna asked again, "Andrew?
Drew, can you understand me? Can you speak at all?"
Finally, after all this time, the ability to speak finally returned.
Slowing forcing the words out of a dry throat and around a tube, the
young man in the hospital bed began to croak out, "Who-?"
He didn't get much further. At that moment, while Koemna
seemed to be thanking something called 'God' under his breath, a
clatter of heels was heard and that Dark Tournament announcer's
voice was heard again, "Andrew? Mitsuru, is something happening
to Andrew?"
Straining to see from his bed, all he could make out was
one female, who seemed to be surrounded by a sea of white. She
was a startlingly a darker hue that he expected, but he couldn't see
anything clearly that was more than five feet anyway. If anything,
the little he could see bothered him greatly.
Fixing his most intense stare (he hoped) on Koenma, he forced out
again, "Who...is...Andrew?" in a whispered tone.
The older Koemna blinked down at him. "Um...you are," he
said quietly.
At that point the seventeen year old's brain went crazy. Inside
his head, he was shouting, "WHAT?! HAS PACIFER-BREATH
REALLY LOST IT?! I'M WHO?!! WHAT'S GOING ON? WHAT
KIND OF CRAP IS HE TRYING TO PULL? WHERE THE HELL
AM I AND WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON!!!"
All the young man managed to croak out before fading back into
unconsciousness was,"What the hell is this?"
- to be continued -