Day 1 - Monday - The Manga Artist
Three days since her 25th Birthday and the cherry blossom was in full bloom as the train winded its way west from her home in Yokohama on the Ueno Tokyo line. A good book, the spring sun, and Mikoto was finally moving forward, or at least she hoped. In this train it was easy to get a seat, better to read her book, but every train going in the opposite direction was packed. Human sardine cans, passing her one after the other. That close to her fellow human beings every day, even if only for half an hour was her idea of hell. It underlined why she lived within walking distance of the central station in Yokohama, despite the cost.
It was over 15 years since she'd given away her DNA for research into muscular dystrophy, and today was her first day since leaving medical school trying to do something about it. Today's destination was a hospital that had a range of people to rehabilitate as part of the program she was taking part in. Those with cybernetic implants, those with strokes, those with muscular dystrophy, every ailment she could think of. The important question, would she get a patient that had the condition that most interested her? Hopefully, but as a junior doctor nothing could be guaranteed.
The train crossed the river and pulled into Fujisawa Station and as the brakes screeched her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. Still the Gekota phone, but only the outer case was the same. The innards were much newer technology. It had been 7 years since a new Gekota phone and with Gekota KK now bankrupt her phone was ever more unique. She closed the book on her lap and placed the phone up to her ear and nobody noticed. An advantage she had to admit when compared to Academy City where so many had been trying to be mature beyond their years. In this real world people wanted to appear younger than they actually were.
"Hi Kuroko, why are you ringing me at this time? You're supposed to be at work by now. Aren't you?"
"Hi Mikoto. I am at work, but I want to know about your patient. You're starting today I thought. Do you know who it is yet?"
"You mean the person I am going to spend 30 hours with over the next two weeks in Oiso doing intensive rehab with. Haven't a clue Kuroko. It's like somebody is deliberately keeping me in the dark. I'm thinking of changing my name tag to Dr Mushroom in response. I don't even know yet what their condition is. I'll text you when I find out."
"Mikoto, are you doing this as part of your one woman crusade to cure muscular dystrophy?"
"Maybe Kuroko."
Mikoto, could hear a suppressed snort, and guessed her friend was shrugging at the other end of the line. "I know why you want to do it, and I admire you for it Mikoto, but do you really think you'll succeed where so many others have failed? Isn't that a bit…"
Her best friend wisely stopped. Deep down Mikoto knew she was probably right, but there was a wrong she wanted to right. As illogical, improbable, possibly arrogant, as it seemed this is what she wanted. To be the person who found a cure.
The silence that lasted all of 15 seconds was finally broken by Kuroko. "Can you tell me when are you next seeing Haru?"
This was easier territory for Mikoto.
"Your brother is taking me out for dinner on Saturday week when he is back from Amsterdam signing a business deal. He's been busy lately; I've hardly seen him."
She'd recently started dating her best friend's brother, only a couple of dates, after two years of pressure on both sides from Kuroko. The guy who didn't date with the girl who didn't date. Haru was handsome, well dressed, charming, but she could never see herself care as much for him as the boy she hadn't seen for ten years. That other boy never told her he loved her and, looking back on it, had been terribly insensitive sometimes. With age she now admitted to herself, she'd been no paragon either. With ten extra years she'd written that crush off as her early teenage obsession long ago, and could she care that intensely about anybody ever again? Not if she had an ounce of sanity.
"You aren't the only one Mikoto, I haven't seen him for two months. I get the odd call but that is about it. Keeping in contact with family has never been his strong point."
"Enough about Haru. More importantly, how are you, Ena doing, and your adorable boy Mieko doing?"
"He's just started Yochien at three years old. Ena drops him off in the morning and I pick him up in the afternoon. The walls are already covered with his 'art' in our apartment. Would Aunty Mikoto like one of the original masterpieces he produces every day?...I should also send photos to you; he looks like the old photos of you on your first day… except he is a boy."
"Aunty Mikoto will take a couple of his pictures Kuroko, and of course he'd look like me. Given his mother used to be 19090 that's hardly surprising, is it?" said Mikoto. "What I'm really pleased about is hearing he's starting preschool."
Kuroko's voice then lowered to a near whisper. "I'll tell you a secret. Ena and I are about to have another Mikoto. We've had the ultrasound and it's going to be a girl this time."
"Congratulations Kuroko, and you're the one pregnant this time, aren't you?"
"So, the Onee-sama doctor figured it out? How did you do it."
"Come on Kuroko. No alcohol, no shellfish, at a girl's night out with Kazari and Ruiko Constantly watching where Ruiko put that vodka bottle. Didn't you realise she was deliberately passing it behind her back and under the table to see your reaction. I wouldn't be much of a doctor if I hadn't figure it out."
"You think they figured it out too?"
"We discussed it when you went to the toilet. Kazari started to laugh as soon as you were out of sight. I'm amazed you didn't hear her."
"I hid it that badly?" The voice at the other end of the phone line was slightly dejected.
"We all knew within five minutes Kuroko. Now, if I remember correctly, your mother had morning sickness pretty much straight after you were conceived so I assume that's why you took so long… I think you better tell them 'officially' as well."
"Given they already know your wish is my command Onee-sama."
"Kuroko I can also hear the engine, stop driving a police car around Nagoya while talking to me…and be careful Kuroko. That hormonal imbalance clashing with your esper abilities back at Tokiwadai was a mess, it made our life hell. Any sign of that rearing its head during pregnancy call me."
"Is that Onee-sama or the doctor talking?"
"Both, Kuroko. Look after yourself please."
"Thanks, Mikoto, and hope you get the patient you want…" With a crackle of static Kuroko was abruptly cut off and the screen went blank. She could tell the railway substation on leaving Fujisawa had interfered with the signal, but it was only a handful of minutes to go to her destination, and there was no point in calling back.
Another river crossing, this time the larger Sagami river. She could see Mount Takatori above Oiso to the right and Sagami Bay was to her left, and she'd have a glimpse of Mt Fuji soon with luck. The book went into her bag and once the train left Hiratsuka, she started making her way toward the door. Another squeal and the train began to slow into Oiso. Outer suburban Japan, single and double story houses, roughly 45 minutes from home in Yokohama. Home now being her own small apartment instead of Mama and Dad's place, which had been sold years ago.
Mikoto skipped out of the train and began walking out under the V shaped station canopy of the old station towards the stairs. Once outside she grabbed a bento box at a convenience store adjacent to the station. Her days of being an Ojou-sama had long gone, and now she avoided the price gouging at hospital cafes wherever possible. She'd even learnt to cook more than cookies, but living on her own tried to keep her cooking desperately within one pot and live on leftovers where she could.
Mikoto studied her notes and spotted the bus that went past the hospital. A swipe of her travel card and fifteen minutes later the bus was pulling to a stop. Mikoto would finally see where she would be working.
Off the bus and up a lane where mature trees provided some shelter toward a mirror glass monolith built by Academy City into the hill next to the old general hospital. A forced outpost of that previous powerhouse, which now had outpost schools and other facilities throughout Japan. Forced because parents became more and more concerned with the effects of sending their kids away so young. They'd finally woken up, thankfully.
She strolled through the glass doors of reception into what felt more like a corporate headquarters than a hospital. Polished concrete floors, black leather couches with chrome frames, roughcast concrete walls, and a wooden ceiling with concealed spotlights. If she didn't think this place was a PR exercise, she'd would have thought they'd overspent the budget.
A quick check on her appearance in a mirror, placed to make the space appear larger. Hair in a ponytail behind her with no stray hairs. No marks on her white coat, peach blouse tucked into her blue trousers. Then she put on a nametag to help her new patient quickly learn her name. She checked the swiss watch her father had given her. Five minutes early, not bad, she could read a bit more of the book. Mikoto slumped into the couch and pulled out the English novel she had read a bit of on the train. HG Well's "War of the Worlds", an attempt to brush up on her English, but after only a couple of pages a familiar face appeared.
"Good morning Meido Gaeshi," said Mikoto to the frog faced doctor.
"Good morning Misaka Mikoto nice to see you again. It's been a couple of years. I'm here to show you your patient by the way. I'll explain his case to you on the way to the treatment room. It's an unusual case, but you may be in a unique position to help."
He ushered her forward and they began talking about the person she was to spend a large portion of the next two weeks with.
"What's unusual about him Meido?" The question she hadn't asked was why was someone so senior here to tell her.
The man she still thought of as Doctor Gekota began to explain. "His problem is the amount of time he spent without legs means he is having tremendous problems with the cybernetic legs he received about six months ago. He received his new hand 9 years ago, which works fine. His parents could afford that, but he was in a wheelchair for nearly 10 years before he received new legs."
"I know that's not ideal from medical school. Why did it take so long for the new legs?" Mikoto was curious. What would prompt such a poor course of treatment?
"His parents insisted on Academy City implants for some reason. Then soon after he was injured, they hit major financial problems. It took them this long to get the money together. That included the money he earns from his work as a manga artist."
"He would have been better to get lower grade legs earlier," said Mikoto. The textbook answer, but no comfort for who she about to treat.
"I know. I wish I knew about him so things would have turned out better, but I only found out a month ago." Mikoto could only nod in agreement.
"Meido. That date. Was he a victim of the Insurrection in Academy City in March over a decade ago?"
"Yes he was. I remember how I thought the Elements were bad, then that war happened on the streets and it was carnage. We ran out of everything at the hospital that day. I watched kids die I could have treated any other day."
The memories of that day caused Mikoto to flinch. Even so, she shared her experience. Somehow ,it was that little bit easier every time she did this.
"Meido. I was in a side battle trying to protect people," said Mikoto. "I still remember seeing the streets littered with corpses and detached limbs, nearly all of them in school uniform. As you know some of my friends saw my Mama and Dad killed. My grandfather pulled me out of Tokiwadai as soon as he could, and I finished my education up in Hokkaido. I survived physically unscathed, but that day changed my life."
"This boy wasn't so lucky, if you could call your story luck Misaka. He was in the centre of it, but unfortunately for him some of those who could have helped him out died. Others I thought would, well it appears they didn't. With no support, my understanding is that the parents brought him home, and the full burden of treating him fell on them."
"Poor guy." Mikoto knew enough now. It would be a young man, about her age, ex-Academy City, and cybernetic rehab of the worst type. Not what she originally wanted but one hell of a challenge. It was the kind of learning experience she was after.
They turned the corner and could look down into treatment room, and it was a scene eerily similar to the scene when she gave away her DNA as a child. A figure was trying to walk between parallel bars. A young man in his mid-twenties, not a child, but those movements were practically the same. She could see how his lower body had wasted with the lack of legs, but also compensated with stronger than normal shoulders from using a wheelchair.
The artificial legs could be clearly seen but they were barely responding, and he was using the strength that was in his shoulders to move them in a faltering gait. Fake flesh was the last step when it was confirmed the cybernetic legs had been finely tuned to the patient, and that meant she could see his legs. Even up here she could identify the titanium joints of the leg and the metallic sensor array printed onto muscles made of electroactive polymers. In contrast, his artificial right hand was barely perceptible, but the new legs would be even less visible once finished. Skinning technology had improved in 9 years. The question was when, if ever, this would happen for him.
That was not what struck her. Even from behind she knew who it was. Somebody she had spent three months trying to find a decade ago, and now she had found him. His haircut hadn't changed, and he had a thin beard, not dissimilar from that her father had, which followed a firmer jaw line. The chest was broader, but it was still Kamijou Touma. She could feel her heart rate beginning to rise. How could she be a detached professional in this scenario? As a doctor she felt she shouldn't be doing this, and she was angry.
"Why me Doctor? Why Kamijou?" Her voice was trembling. "It's going to be hard enough to meet him after so long but treating him is crazy. What were you thinking? You of all people should know better. You know we were close in the past."
She stared at him, and the frog faced doctor stared her down until the faint corona around her head dissipated. Her breathing had brought that under control, and if she'd discharged like in the past she'd have been at least fined.
That was the moment the justification for his actions began. "I thought this over a lot Misaka. We're not sure if his problem is physiological, mental, or both. If physiological then your electrical ability may help. Didn't you once tell me you walked when paralysed by a drug. There may be things you can do that others can't," said the doctor. "More importantly, psychologically you may also be what Kamijou needs. A picture he drew of a younger you is beautiful by the way. He's shown me. The heroine in his manga, which is popular amongst teenage boys, is also pretty obviously you."
"Oh, … but..."
"Misaka. Kamijou still seems to have some connection to you and his life's been pretty bleak recently, but somehow, he manages to remain outwardly positive about all this. Inwardly I have my doubts. I think meeting you again would cheer him up. He needs that."
She knew that part of her was faltering, but what he was asking would be more difficult than walking down and saying hello. The former, what he was proposing, was a problem, the latter she would deeply regret not doing.
"You're making this harder…," and before she could finish he stumbled and fell with a crash that penetrated the glass. She could tell he must do it a dozen times a day from how he caught himself, but instinct cut in.
Mikoto ran to the glass door that led down steps into the treatment room. It smashed against the door stop. Two steps at a time down onto the floor. Then, without faltering, across the vinyl to get to him. A slide down onto the floor and she was beside him. The nurse, who had been much closer, was still two metres away.
Mikoto placed her head under his arm, right arm around his chest, and slowly, carefully, she helped him to his feet.
"Thanks doc …" Then he froze for a few seconds. "Holy crap it's you Misaka." She could see where he landed on his side now. It must have hurt a lot, yet he was grinning stupidly at her, and she had a slight blush. She almost never blushed now.
"You thought you'd got rid of me ten years ago didn't you Kamijou." She was smiling at him now. What she had said was meant to be a joke, but he took it far more seriously.
"I tried to track you down, but I couldn't find you or Misuzu. I tried," Then he pointed down at his legs, "… but as you can see, I had obvious limitations."
He'd looked? She'd never considered that. Now she was looking at somebody whom she'd considered at the very least missing, and probably dead.
"I tried too Kamijou. Mama died the same day this happened to you. Her phone was smashed, your phone didn't respond, and our phone company was in a building that was flattened. I couldn't contact you and failed to track you down. Believe it or not I ended up spending my teens living outside Sapporo. I only moved down from there a few weeks ago, and I've bought a small apartment in central Yokohama."
"Your mother dead?" A grimace, then a look that conveyed sympathy. The familiar pattern. "We, my mother helped, thought that may have happened."
"Yes, and my father too, on the same day." She couldn't stop a single tear welling up.
"I'm really sorry to hear that." There was no doubt he meant it. It was a stock answer, but the delivery was what mattered.
"Thanks. It's nice to hear that occasionally."
She registered the frog faced doctor placing the file on the table next to her, a rustle of paper behind her, but Mikoto's attention was elsewhere.
"I'm sorry to see what happened to you Kamijou." She glanced down at his cyborg legs as she said it.
"Know I don't want any pity Misaka. I get too much of that from people."
He said it with a cheeky grin, but an old and familiar sensation started welling up in her.
"There's a difference between sympathy and pity Kamijou Touma."
"Which is?" Delivered with the same grin plastered on his face.
She knew he was teasing, but her temper, got the better of her.
"I plan to show you none of the latter for the next two weeks."
"Thanks, Misaka," said Kamijou as the grin disappeared.
Mikoto was finally getting herself back in control. Her breathing was slowing. Her heart rate was down. All the things she'd learnt to re-establish control, but the damage was done. What had she done in that moment? The words of her first year medical ethics lecturer were haunting her as she looked at him, but there was no way going back on it now. There would be two weeks of Dr Misaka Mikoto treating Kamijou Touma, patient.