A few notes:
I've spelled Ryuuken and Uryuu as that because that's how I see them used most often.
For the purposes of this, Ryuuken is a doctor. Wikipedia doesn't really say if he's a doctor or not, just that he is the Director of the Karakura Hospital. So I figure that he is a doctor, just not one that works on every case. You don't have to have an MD to be a Hospital administrator but if he is a Doctor that gives him another thing in common with Isshin.
Also the technology that is talked about in this chapter is obviously made up. As its explained the goggles used are intended for a completely different purpose and they stumbled upon them by accident. As for the DNA thing, we can see that gigai's (and Shinigami) bleed. So I'm assuming this blood is the same. Also its stated a LOT that Rukia and Hisana were sisters and died in the transient world, not being separated. Therefore I am assuming they look the same as they did in the transient world.
Oh and names are done First Last, not Last First.
"Good morning, Mr. Ishida," the nurse's voice was going to be the end of him, "how are you feeling today?"
Uryuu Ishida said nothing. What was the point in saying anything? He could tell her he had almost figured out the lock on the window but he imagined she would just smile and tell him it was great he had managed to make it out of bed. Instead he continued to sit there as she walked over to him. He felt the bed move under him as she moved him into a sitting position. The oxygen mask around his mouth and nose continued to allow him to breathe without a tube going down his throat. The doctors were more optimistic about his lungs. Smooth hands moved his body into a sitting position, the doctors were optimistic about his skin and bones and muscles and tendons as well. There were solutions for that. Her hands began to work on the bandages as he smelled the antiseptic that should burn when they applied it but would not.
The doctors were not optimistic about his eyes.
The force of the last of the battles had scarred and burned his body almost beyond repair. There was no Mayuri this time to fix him either. He had been brought to Karakura hospital more dead than alive. He wouldn't have been surprised if he had died a few times as they fought to save him. From what he understood he would be scarred for the rest of his life thanks to the burns. He had inhaled smoke and dust and god knows what, damaging his lungs. There had been so many injuries, only the barest of which he understood. he knew about his eyes though, it did not take a genius to figure out. The force of some explosion had shattered his glasses, though his lenses were designed to avoid something like that happening. Apparently that did not extend to otherworldly attacks. The glass from his lenses had shattered and then it had gone into the skin around his eyes. Some of it had missed his eyes by the barest millimeter, some of it had not, puncturing his eyelids to reach his eyeballs. He knew his eyeballs were in tact but whether they could see or not was something that had yet to be determined.
He felt the barest pressure as the nurse applied ointment and dressings to his eyes. The last thing he needed was an infection. The glass had been removed and numerous specialists had come to examine him but the diagnosis were all the same: there was a very slim chance that he would see again. It was simple really, no eyesight meant no archery. No archery meant no more being a Quincy. There were other issues too but they seemed to pale in comparison. His father was probably loving this. Finally his son was no longer a Quincy. Wasn't that what he had always wanted? Well he would get his wish. It wasn't like there were anymore Shinigami to be friends with either. He knew Kurosaki was fighting his own internal battle.
"All done," the nurse said peppily as she secured the bandages that covered his eyes.
He turned his head away as she departed. Movement was still hard for him, movement for an extended duration of time was impossible. But he could get his point across when he needed too. He could talk, he simply did not feel the need too. He heard the nurse pick up the supplies, humming as she did. If he had more movement in his scarred hands he would have reached over and strangled her. As it was he laid there, listening to her hum as she cleared away the supplies that kept him alive for another heartbeat, another breath. They were more torturous than anything else.
Uryuu turned his face to the sun and wondered if scarred, dead eyes were able to weep.
The nurse walked down the hallway, his chart tucked under her arm. She made her way to the elevator and stepped inside, taking it up to the administrative offices. She looked odd in her scrubs, walking along a hallway that cost more than some of the equipment in the rooms. It was not that Ryuuken Ishida did not have the best for his patients but some things did cost more than medical supplies and those were the kind of things that intimidated people who came to visit his office. Especially if those people were going to try and do something stupid. She was intimidated--who wouldn't be?--but she knew that her job was far more important. Squaring her shoulders she stopped outside his door and raised a fist, knocking on it.
"Come in," came the harsh voice.
She stepped inside, the chart held tightly in her hands. She knew she was supposed to feel terror or at the very least intimidated but all she felt when she looked at the man behind the desk was sympathy. She had been there when they had brought his son in, more dead than alive, she had been the one who raced up the stairs and gasped out who was in the Trauma Room. He had been in a meeting but she would never forget the look in his eyes. He didn't say a word to the men, he just got to his feet and left the room. He did not run, not until he reached the door anyway. The he did and he did not stop running until he reached the room where he put on scrubs and took over for the doctor that was trying to save his son's life. Every time the young man crashed or bled or slipped away it was Ryuuken Ishida who was there bringing him back to life.
But once he had stabilized, once he was out of the woods he had vanished as quickly as he had come.
He still received constant updates on his son's condition. If something happened she had no doubt that he would be down there saving him once again. But as long as he was alright, as long as he was healing physically he stayed up in his office. He stayed away from his son. It was a horrible thing to watch. She knew that even though she was peppy and happy when she was around Uryuu Ishida, the young man wanted nothing more than to die. Physically he was healing as well as could be expected--better than could be expected--but emotionally he was not. Emotionally he was slipping away more and more every day. Even if she pitied Ryuuken Ishida she knew that he was making a mistake not going to his son. But she would not tell him that, she had never been a terribly brave woman and confronting him required more than she had in her.
"Here is his file, Director Ishida."
Ryuuken motioned for her to set it on the desk, not looking at it or at her. Once the door was closed he set down what he was reading and picked up the file. He was the Director the Hospital and it had been years since he had been one of the physicians who worked downstairs but the fact was that he was a doctor. Occasionally he worked as a doctor for the richest who could afford his services and for other special cases. He opened the folder and scanned the words written there. What little progress that had been made by his son was in the right direction. But it was not a lot of progress, not as much as he should be making. Ryuuken felt his fingers tighten on the paper. He should have listened to him, he should have stayed where he was instead of going charging after that girl. He was a fool for doing what he did.
"Director Ishida? You have a call on line 2, from a Dr. Kurosaki."
"What do you want, Kurosaki?" he demanded, not even bothering with pretending to be nice.
"I need a transport," came the low reply, "he woke up. I can't be sure but I think he tore something internal and--"
"An ambulance will be there in ten minuets."
"Thanks," Isshin said, "hows Uryuu?"
"His condition is none of your concern," Ryuuken said hanging the phone up before calling an ambulance.
Isshin looked at the phone before hanging it up again. He knew Ryuuken was beating himself up pretty hard about what happened to his son. Isshin felt bad for the guy. He couldn't imagine what life would be like if Ichigo and he had a falling out like the two of them. Just when they were starting to speak again, this had to go and happen. No father deserved to watch their son slip away. At least Uryuu was awake again. The second he woke up though Ryuuken had vanished like he was ashamed of throwing on his scrubs again. From what Isshin had heard he raced out of an important meeting without a second thought to go and save his son. Isshin would have done the same thing. Despite his unwillingness to talk about Uryuu's condition, Ryuuken had gone in and performed surgery on Ichigo.
Isshin wouldn't have allowed anyone else to do it.
Isshin wasn't a surgeon. Ryuuken was far more an administrator now but in rare cases he was a very talented surgeon. When Isshin had shown up with his son, Ryuuken had already been working on his son. If there was one thing that Isshin admired about him it was his ability to detach. It was as if he did not acknowledge the man below his hands was Uryuu. No words of comfort came from his mouth, there was no trace of a worried father in his methodical movements. Uryuu had cried out a few times in agony but Ryuuken remained unaffected as he worked to save his son's life. But the second Isshin showed up with Ichigo, the usually semi-retired doctor had immediately accepted two patients who could never have afforded his usually exorbitant fee. Ryuuken and the team of specialists had worked tirelessly on the two boys. Ryuuken had specialists in his hospital but if he needed an outside consult he called in every favor, spared no expense to get them to come to the hospital to work on the two boys.
Isshin had forced himself to help. It was not as if Ryuuken could operate on two boy at the same time. So while one was in surgery he kept the other alive. The moments when Ichigo crashed were the hardest. The first time he had almost been paralyzed with terror as he heard the monitors wail. Each time he brought him back, it was agony. The worst part was that it got easier. Each time it got a little easier to fight, to urge him back to life. With Uryuu it was the same way. Hard at first and then easier. Half the time though it was Ryuuken who brought his son back. The man who hadn't fought for him when he was alive continually fought to bring him back from the brink of death, every bit as unwilling to let him go.
Isshin looked in on Ichigo. He had prepped him before hand, making sure that all the equipment could be moved easily into the ambulance. Though he hated himself for thinking it, he was glad that Ichigo had remained unmoving throughout it. He did not know if he could take that screaming twice in one day. Isshin turned and walked down the hallway to where Karin's room was. His daughter was laying on her back, tossing a ball up in the air and catching it. Though she had been injured severely, Karin was probably going to make the most complete recovery. Her leg had been broken severely, damaging the artery in her leg. She had sever blood loss when she had been brought into Karakura Hospital. Isshin was just thankful that Sado knew enough to bring her there instead of to the clinic. When he entered she caught the ball she was tossing quickly and pushed herself up on her forearms to look at him.
"He's gotta go to the hospital again doesn't he?" she demanded.
"Yeah," Isshin said, "he's gotta go back to the hospital but just for a little while okay?"
"Dad," Karin sighed, "you don't have to talk to me like that," she looked down at her leg, "my leg's just broken," she looked at the pins in her leg, "even if I don't get a cast," she looked at him, "you're going with him right? Yuzu and I'll be alright for a bit."
"I know but I'm going to call Tatsuki to come over," he said turning to go.
"Hey dad," Isshin turned, his hand flying out automatically to catch the ball that she tossed to him, "nice catch."
It seemed he could still do something right.
Outside of the room the woman scientist from before consulted the tablet computer cradled against her forearm. Her dark hair was caught up tightly in a rather sever twist at the back of her skull. Everything, her porcelain skin, the glasses on her nose, everything spoke of a life lived indoors, out of the sun. Even with the stylus her handwriting was precise and very legible, intended for other people to read.
"I'm sure your eyes can be better entertained elsewhere, Mr. Cross," she said cooly.
"Well they kicked us out of the room with that fascinating thing of yours," he said.
"She is not a 'thing', Mr. Cross," she said looking over at him, "at one point she was human," he kept looking at her rather skeptically, "come with me, Mr. Cross," she said.
"I though we were supposed to stay here," he said.
"For one of our most esteemed benefactors, I'm sure I can show you something else to satisfy your curiosity," she continued smoothly.
He shrugged and followed her down the sterile hallway. He never liked the smell of these places, that antiseptic smell that always had his sense reeling. He did his best to avoid them, especially this facility. He viewed them the same way as he did his high school. Send a check and pray to be left alone. But no, no they always wanted to show him some nonsense or another. He very rarely entertained the requests and he was seriously regretting that this was one of them. The image of that woman, that doll like creature laying there would be ingrained in his mind for a long time. She looked so normal, so small, so innocent it was impossible to think that she was actually dead.
"How did you find her again?" he asked abruptly, "Mis--"
"Doctor," she replied smoothly, "Doctor Bordello. We found her during the blackouts a few days ago," she paused at a pair of doors and placed her hand on the surface of a wall. Moments later the door opened and allowed them into another room, "she did not look like that," she continued, "we were sweeping the area as part of our new research project and stumbled upon her completely by accident."
They were in a room of some kind. There were two empty glass tubes that were upright in the center of the room, sealed on both ends. A bank of computers seemed to be monitoring both of the supposedly empty tubes, which he had a feeling were not. Dr. Bordello walked over to the edge of the room and picked up a pair of goggles, walking back to him and extending them to him. He took them and looked at the tube. She motioned for him to wait before he put them on.
"These goggles are part of our new Search and Recovery program," she said, "they are designed to tell us if something is living underground. Their range is far more than their predecessors."
"I thought it was just a blackout," he said.
"Yes and this was just a field test," she said, "the goggles had been working in a contained area--in the lab--but we wanted to test them outside," she motioned for him to put them on before she pressed a button on the side of the goggles.
Things certainly seemed the same. The lab was still there but now it was shown in a dizzying array of colors. Numbers scanned down the side of the goggles as they seemed to focus and analyze certain things. He felt Dr. Bordello move behind him with methodical movements that bordered on cold. She turned his head firmly towards the tube. The goggles immediately locked in and began to scan the tube. As they did a picture began to take place. He blinked in the confines of the glasses, wondering if this was some kind of joke.
"Dr. Bordello, why is there a sword in that tube?"
It seemed to be a regular katana with dark reddish brown wrappings on the handle and a square guard. He turned his head to face the second tube. There was another sword in there too but this one was different. It was bigger with a hexagonal guard. The wrappings were green as well. The two swords were drastically different but they were both invisible to his eyes unless he was wearing the goggles. He lifted them off his eyes just to confirm that the tubes were, in fact, empty. He looked over at Dr. Bordello who gestured for him to come over to where she was. He walked over, the goggles held tightly in his hand.
"These goggles are able to feed back to us," she explained, bringing up images on the computer, "these were taken by the agent who brought the girl in," she said, "prior to bringing her in of course."
"No video?" he asked.
"We're working on that," she said.
The images showed the girl dressed in some odd black clothing, darting through the street, the reddish brown sword at her hip. She was obviously looking for something, determination and frustration was written all over her face. One of the images showed her looking directly at the camera, obviously having seen whoever was watching her. Her eyes were huge, she looked like a dear caught in the headlights.
"We lost sight of her after that, though we began to catch sightings of her. The odd thing was that we could see her without the goggles. We can only assume she is using some kind of puppet body."
She showed more images, taken with a normal camera. In each of the photographs the girl was shown wearing different, modern cloths. It was definitely the same color images showed her doe-like eyes to be a haunting shade of violet. Each photograph showed her looking almost desperate as she continued her search for whatever she was looking for.
"We found her shortly afterwards. She found what she was looking for, which we believe to be the second sword which we have dubbed Muramasa. The second she found it the sword reacted to her presence and she was in the puppet body. We found her unconscious and bleeding. We brought her here and she has remained in that state ever since. Using the goggles we were able to attain Muramasa and her blade."
"No nicknames for her sword? Isn't that kinda unfair?"
"Hardly," Dr. Bordello said smoothly, walking over to the desk and picking up a telephone, "Is he out of the bathroom yet?" she sighed at the response, "thank you," she hung up, "it seems our descendant Dr. Masato is having a negative reaction."
"He was asking a lot of questions," he said.
"I would be sorry if he did not," she said, "he does work for us after all."
In the bathroom, with little grace Doctor Junichiro Masato doubled over and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.
Under his suite jacket his shirt was sticky with sweat. The classified folder he had been given was on the shelf on the side of the stall. He barely had the strength to flush the mess away before he leaned against the wall. With numb fingers he loosened the tie that seemed to be strangling him but the block in his throat remained. There was just no way what he had learned was possible, no way that this could be. But the evidence was all there in a shockingly thin manilla envelope. The evidence that seemed to have crippled him even harder than a strike.
He had seen many strange things at his time in the institute. Each new, higher security clearance had him questioning what he was doing more and more. But he stayed on, for reasons even he did not fully understand. Now he was regretting that more and more. He just never thought that of all the things that would push him over the edge this would be it. When he had been called to the highest level of security he had thought it was strange but he thought little of it. When he saw the girl on the bed he had thought it was strange but the contents of the file--
Taking a deep breath he picked the folder up and staggered to the sink, thankful the bathroom was for one person. Bending down he cupped his hands under the cool water, filling his mouth with the stuff. The bile remained, clinging to his mouth. He filled his hands again and splashed the water on his face. It dripped down his face as he slowly raised his eyes to look in the mirror. He did not need to look in the files to know the data, the blood that flowed through his veins and that of the woman on the bed. The similarities were all there, even though it had been generations between the two of them. Same violet eyes, same charcoal black hair--even the lack of height. His fingers gripped the sides of the sink with white knuckles.
Through the parted folds of his shirt the cross around his neck swung forward to dangle in the empty air like some kind of cruel joke.
