Aside from that, it says in the manga that Hisoka didn't have to take the tests. Not everyone does; I'd wager Tsuzuki didn't either. ^_^ Special cases get exempted.
Everyone, thank you for the feedback!
Terazuma opened his eyes to a ceiling that was far whiter than it had any right to be. He shut his eyes with a wince and an incoherently grumbled protest.
"Ah, awake, I see," said a voice off to his side.
His eyes blinked open and he stared upwards for a long moment as the night's events filtered back. Sitting up with a jolt, he looked around, gaze passing over the man who'd spoken, searching instead for the girl.
He occupied a generic hospital bed in a generic hospital room notable only for its distinct lack of respirators, IV racks, or any other such typical surgical machines. Sunlight trespassed cheerfully into the room through a row of windows in one wall, and none of the other infirmary beds were taken, their white sheets neat and undisturbed on the mattresses.
"Where's the girl I was with?!" he demanded, turning his attention back to the waiting man. He broke off at the faintly amused, patient look the man was giving him. He wore a simple lab coat and looked in his mid to late thirties, with calm brown eyes and short, sandy blond hair--a foreigner?
"You won't find her here," the man said, his smile fading to a look of quiet sympathy.
"Well, where is she, then?" Terazuma pressed, trying to ignore the expression.
"She's passed on," the doctor responded quietly. "She no longer lives in this world."
"She died?" Terazuma stared at him as the words sank home, striking him hard with the memory of roaring water and her broken voice.
I don't want to die.
He looked down, hands clenching in the sheets, biting back a curse, feeling the sting of bitter regret.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you that she did," the man next to him said, then paused. "And in a sense, so did you."
Startled out of his grief, Terazuma blinked, looking back up at him. "What?"
"It was the middle of the night," the man chided gently. "How could you have been rescued, but not her, before you drowned?"
"What are you talking about?" Terazuma asked, suddenly angry. "I'm right here, right? What the hell are you trying to pull?"
"I'm not trying to pull anything, Terazuma-kun. You're in the infirmary of the science and medical wing of Enmacho, in Meifu. You're Shokan division's newest employee, tested and approved by Enmadaioh to be a caseworker for the fourth division, Gokancho."
The younger man gaped at him. "Enma?" he echoed incredulously. "Meifu? What the--How do you know my name?!"
"We keep very extensive records here, Terazuma Hajime-kun. But I can see you're the type who'll need something more concrete." He rose, looking at the young man glaring up at him. "Will you follow me?"
Suspiciously, Terazuma pushed aside the covers, noting as he did so that he still wore his uniform, but his coat hadn't been recovered. He stood carefully, expecting to fall, or at least stumble from lingering effects from hypothermia.
Seeing his surprised expression, the doctor gave him a slight smile. "We don't generally carry damage with us. Your physical body is back in Chijou, if it hasn't been cremated yet. You're something different now."
"Different how?" Terazuma asked cautiously, following the man over to a low table, where he pulled open a drawer and considered an array of medical scalpels.
"I'll demonstrate." He lifted one, the light slicing a quicksilver gleam down the blade as he set it to his wrist and, over Terazuma's yelp of protest, slashed it downward. The blood welled up quickly, streaming down his skin. He lifted his other hand to still Terazuma's words, then cupped it beneath his wrist, nodding at the wound.
Terazuma glanced at it, aghast, then did a doubletake and stared.
It was healing. Before his shocked eyes, the gash closed and, as the doctor wiped the blood off against his other arm, vanished completely.
"If you need further proof," the blond said wryly, "you can follow me over to the sink before I drip blood all over my floor."
Terazuma obeyed, mind working furiously to dig up an explanation, but uncovering nothing. The doctor set the blade down on pristine white marble and, turning on the water, began to rinse off his hands. Terazuma watched for a few moments, then moved to snap up the scalpel, feeling slightly foolish when the man failed to even lift his glance from his task.
Sensing that he was being left to his own devices for a moment, Terazuma carefully pressed the tip of the razor to his palm. It was no fake blade; he felt the sharp prick against his skin. Frustrated, he pushed harder, watching the blood seep out along the edge of the cut. Raising it, he stared hard at his hand. It wasn't even a deep enough gouge for the blood to spill free; as he watched, it sank back into his skin, the puncture becoming a pale white scar, then melting into nothing.
"I-I'm--dead?" His voice sounded strange to his own ears, too hollow, too uncertain, far too vulnerable.
The doctor pulled the scalpel from Terazuma's unresisting hands and set to rinsing the red sheen from it.
"In a sense."
Emotion and reaction returned with the words.
"How the fuck am I supposed to be dead, 'in a sense'?!" Terazuma exploded, yearning to seize the man and shake the still complacency out of him.
"You have a temper," the blond observed, turning off the water and drying the blade carefully on his shirt. "You'll have to learn to curb that, with Seiko-san.
"Listen to me," he continued, turning to face the young man fuming beside him. "I don't like to think of this existence as death. Why should I? We may heal inhumanly fast, but we do still bleed. I'm sure you can attest right now that we suffer, and I assure you that we can feel joy. We eat, sleep, work, play, worry about bills, have the occasional vacation, have friends and rivals, all of that. We go through all the motions of living, so who is to say that we do not?"
He touched a hand lightly to Terazuma's shoulder as the young man stared at him.
"You caseworkers have picked up the nickname 'shinigami'. I hate the term, and you won't ever hear me use it. There's no such thing as a true death in this or any world, Terazuma-kun. If you die in one world, you wake in another. Always. You workers could as easily be called gods of life as you are gods of death, because that's what you do--bring lost and wandering souls properly into their next plane of existence. Do you understand?"
Terazuma couldn't find the words. He was dead. He was dead. What was there to say to that?
"You'll have to come to terms with it in your own time, I know. Everyone copes differently. But in the meantime, you haven't even asked my name."
The new shinigami stared at him, numb, and heard himself slowly ask, "So what's your name?"
The doctor smiled warmly. "I'm called Chiko. And Meifu is a beautiful place, so why don't I show you around?"
And it was beautiful, Terazuma had to admit, insofar as his minimal appreciation for aesthetics was any judge. Like the real world, but with differences ranging from mildly disturbing (the lack of cars stemming from the ability to fly), deeply unsettling (the ever-blooming sakura framing the roads and pathways), to downright bizarre (the chicken librarians).
His companion was easy-going and good-natured, and didn't seem to possess a last name, at least not that he would admit to. From what Terazuma understood, life as a case-worker in training offered little improvement from his previous existence--same low pay, same barely standard living arrangements, same long hours--but then, it didn't seem he'd be particularly worse off, either.
It was on the way downstairs from the small set of rooms that would serve as his apartment--as yet with spartan furnishings and bare of decoration--that it occurred to Terazuma to ask about cigarettes.
"You smoke?" Chiko queried when it was mentioned to him.
Terazuma scowled. "What about it? Don't tell me you don't have cigarettes here."
"We don't have lung cancer here," his guide responded dryly, "which in your case will be a distinct advantage." Chuckling at the glower Terazuma shot him, he waved a placating hand. "Yes, we have cigarettes. You'll find that the corner store at the end of your street carries them, I believe."
For a moment, Terazuma considered the likelihood of ghosts on tobacco farms, but put aside the mental image of zombie cows pulling plows when he noticed that they'd headed away from the store, back towards the looming office building of Juohcho.
"No smoking in the office," Chiko rebuked placidly in response to Terazuma's complaint. "Not everyone likes breathing in noxious fumes, Terazuma-kun. You can buy your cigarettes on your way home."
"With what money?" the new shinigami challenged.
'Tatsumi will give you an allowance to last until your first paycheck," Chiko returned, unruffled, as they walked down the streets. "An admittedly stingy one, mind you, but enough to make ends meet."
"Who's Tatsumi?"
"The division head's secretary and general accountant. He's far better at it than Konoe-kacho was, but he is tight-fisted. You'll get to know him and the others well enough, if Seiko-san doesn't drive you off with training."
The doctor smiled at his young companion's expression. "It shouldn't be as hard as all that. Seiko-san is a stickler for the rulebook, but that's good for a new worker."
Terazuma snorted, glaring in the other direction. The last thing he wanted right now was to be passed around an office building playing social chutes and ladders. What he wanted was to turn around, buy several packs of cigarettes, and spend the next week staring out of his window brooding. With rain, he decided. Rain would be a plus. And thunder, if he had his way.
A gust of wind blew through his hair, scattering a few sakura petals before his feet.
There was in this world, Terazuma decided, entirely too much pink.
Chiko led the way back to the office, through the bustling lower floor, waving in a companionable way at the people they passed on the way to the elevator. Terazuma fixedly ignored the curious looks and tried to convince himself that he was being paranoid.
The building's interior was beautifully constructed and modern, stylish and sleek. The elevator was quick and silent, well tended to. Terazuma wondered if the janitors made more money than him. The doors opened on the third floor and they stepped out, Chiko with a confident stride, Terazuma trailing behind, pondering the possibility of lax posture getting him dismissed and rankling for a change of clothes.
"You won't have to meet everyone at once," Chiko commented, taking up the reins of the abandoned conversation. "It's once in a blue moon that the office is actually full. For now, we'll just go introduce you to Konoe and Seiko, then you can go home and get settled in."
Terazuma didn't answer, a lapse Chiko chose to overlook as he knocked politely on the office head's door. A muffled invitation carried through the wood, prompting the two to step inside. The office looked nicer than the police office rooms Terazuma had seen, with more attention devoted to form. At the desk--unusually neat, to Terazuma's clutter familiarized eyes--sat an aging man with a craggy face. At his shoulder stood a taciturn man with possibly the bluest eyes Terazuma had ever seen sizing him up behind spare, slim glasses. The tight-fisted secretary, Terazuma would bet the life he no longer had.
"Konoe-kacho," Chiko said, closing the door behind his companion. "This is Terazuma Hajime, newly assigned to Gokanchu."
"Chiko, thank you," the old man acknowledged. "Terazuma-kun, hello and welcome to Enmacho. I'm sure you'll settle in quickly. Tatsumi, would you go and find Seiko?"
The brunette gave the chief a slight bow, nodded to Chiko and Terazuma, and slipped out.
There followed several minutes of job description and overview. Terazuma remained silent through most of it, trying not to look as rebellious as he felt, although something in the knowing quirk of Konoe's lips suggested the attempt wasn't entirely successful.
"If you have any questions, just ask around," Konoe concluded, then, as the knock on the door sounded, "although I'll be surprised if you have a question Seiko can't answer."
The door opened and Terazuma turned to look at his new teacher.
This is going to be a nightmare.
The man was immaculately dressed and carrying a file folder in one hand, with short black hair combed perfectly into place and a level stare from the shelter of square rimmed glasses. Everything about him screamed 'by the book,' an attitude Terazuma had never been able to master.
"Terazuma-kun," Konoe announced as the two stared at each other, "this is your senior partner, Higuchi Seiko. He'll show you around the office more."
Terazuma broke the stare and turned back to look at the head for a moment before dropping a slightly begrudging bow, then returning his attention to his teacher, who didn't look particularly impressed.
"Terazuma-kun, this way, please," Seiko said crisply, heading out of the office after nodding to Konoe. As Terazuma passed him, Chiko gave him a brief pat on the shoulder and an encouraging smile.
Gods.
Seiko shot him an over the shoulder look as they walked down the hall, passing a few closed doors before emerging into a more central room with a copy machine, fax machine, a long line of desks along two walls, and all the other sorts of things Terazuma would imagine to find in a business office. An open door lead off to what he assumed from the look of it to be a break room.
"Assignments come through from Konoe-kacho or on here," Seiko began, nodding at the fax machine. "We're sent the cases the regular workers can't solve or handle with their own resources. The two of us are assigned to the cases for Gokanchu."
"Where is that?" Terazuma asked, exasperated.
Seiko raised an eyebrow at him. "They haven't told you? Area 4 Gokancho looks over the Chuugoku district. You are from Hiroshima, I believe?"
Chuugoku. Hiroshima. It shocked him. It seemed such a small compensation, but the effect was immeasurable.
"Yeah." He straightened, looking intently, almost hungrily, at his assigned teacher. "And we take care of things there?"
The man shrugged, eyeing him. "When cases are sent to us, yes. There aren't any at the moment, which will give me more time to train you."
Terazuma set his shoulders, nodding.
Seiko gave him a slight, wry smile. "We won't do much today. You'll need time to settle in." He gestured around the office as he arrowed towards a row of cabinets set in another wall. "Get paperwork drawn up at the desks; some research can be done from the computers, but the library has more extensive records if they're needed. Case reports are turned in to Tatsumi-san."
Listening closely, Terazuma followed him, feeling more resolved.
That was until Seiko handed him the rulebook.
He stared at it.
"This is the rulebook?"
"Yes. What of it?"
"You're kidding! It's the size of an encyclopedia!"
"So be it. I expect you to look through some of it tonight."
Gods.
Much later, after getting a miserly amount of money from Tatsumi and extensive instructions on the men's dress code and when he was expected back at the office the next afternoon from Seiko, Terazuma walked into the corner store Chiko had directed him to, lugging the rulebook and intent on cigarettes.
The shopkeeper, a friendly old woman who didn't seem much deterred by his ill temper, rang them up for him.
"You're new, aren't you?" she asked as he counted out change. When he nodded brusquely, she smiled. "Those are free, then."
He blinked, looking up at her. "What?"
"We don't get newcomers so often that I'll be bankrupted by giving them their first purchase free," she responded cheerfully, brushing a loose strand of grey hair behind her ear. "Is there anything else you want?"
He hesitated, torn between pride and the fondness for having three meals each day.
"I insist," she said warmly, bustling around the corner with far more ease than any woman her apparent age should by rights posses. "Or else I won't let you shop here. What's your name?"
"Terazuma Hajime," he answered somewhat reluctantly as she busied herself loading down several bags with groceries.
"Welcome to the neighborhood. I'm Kozuru Mizuna."
Before long, he was climbing the stairs to his apartment, cursing under his breath at the weight of the rulebook, which he promptly abandoned on the table in favor of putting up groceries and making supper. Finishing that, he dragged a chair over to the window and plopped down with the book and meal.
If this thing has cute illustrations, I'm gonna shoot something, he vowed to himself, opening the cover.
As it turned out, it didn't. It read like an electronics manual, only without the diagrams to keep the eye interested. Terazuma abandoned it in short order and went to wash his dishes instead, concentrating on them ferociously because it seemed better than thinking too much about the situation he'd been landed in without any say in the matter.
But still... At least it was Hiroshima. He'd be doing similar things, just a bit less often. He hadn't done all that much in life.
We go through all the motions of living, so who is to say that we do not?
Terazuma looked down at the soapy water swirling down the drain, then rinsed off his hands and went to get ready for bed.
Who, indeed? Perhaps the ones going through the motions.
---
Side Story One: Pledge
Chiko watched Terazuma leave after Seiko and smiled to himself. With any luck, they'd be good for each other. Nodding to Konoe and Tatsumi, he slipped out and headed back towards the medical wing.
He smiles at his wife, brushing back her dark hair as he leans down to kiss her, cradling the back of her neck. She reaches down to press his other hand to her stomach, although the pulse of life within is still too young, too small to detect. And with all his heart, he blesses his missionary father for coming here to this exotic country, allowing him to meet this wonderful, beautiful woman, who miraculously returns his love, and who will soon be bearing his child.
Seiko had been by himself for too long, Chiko thought. In any case, a little passion for the work never hurt anyone. If Terazuma was anything, he was certainly passionate, although the doctor very much doubted that the young policeman would share his partner's slavish devotion to the letter of the rulebook's law.
Well, time would tell. Certainly they wouldn't lack for that.
He feels the laughter rising out of him as he lifts his son and the infant smiles at him, tiny, chinadoll hands reaching to touch his face. He settles down next to his wife, handing her the boy. She shifts positions to lay in his lap, and his arms gently fold around her in response. He smiles lovingly, leaning down to nuzzle at her sweat-dampened hair, and whispers that, although he cannot give them all the world as he desires, he can and does give all of himself, a promise of devotion to the grave and beyond.
No one lacked for time in Meifu. That Japanese ideal that he'd learned so long ago--aware; that which is most beautiful is that which is fleeting--was a thing of another world. Appearances endured. And emotions.
And vows.
He holds her close, stroking her hair and whispering his reassurances that the village they inhabit is quiet and that surely the purgings of which rumor speaks will not reach here. She nods, accepting the words, ot trying to. As he embraces her, he prays desperately to his father's God, or any that will listen, that his words will remain truth.
Yes, he reflected as he slipped into his office--a quiet affair, decorated mainly by abundant sunlight--promises could endure forever here, whispered in the boughs of the sakura long, long after the objects of the words were ashes spread to the wind. Opening his window, he sat down on the frame, closing his eyes and listening to the silvery music of the windchimes he'd hung outside.
He hears the heavy pounding on the door and knows that it won't hold for long. His wife is sobbing, pleading with him, and his son--bless the brave boy--is hanging back, frightened but struggling not to show it, dry-eyed. With infinite care, knowing that if he clings too tightly, he'll never be able to release her, he embraces his love and whispers to her that this is what he promised her--his life, his death, all of his existence-- and that, for their son's sake, she must go, but to never doubt his love for her, and to know that, though it take all of eternity, he will find her again. And he kisses her, and his son, and then they are gone in the sound of wood splintering under blows. He turns to face his fate, resolved to delay them for all the time that he can.
And then her scream cleaves his soul, and he spins. As he is struck from behind, the last thing he hears is the cry of her name on his lips.
Sometimes, Chiko thought, he could hear her laughter in the sounds of those chimes.
He wakes in a strange land of ever-blooming flowers. For a time, he does the jobs they give him in exchange for the rare times he is permitted to look in on his wife and child, who have after all survived, imprisoned but unharmed, and he endures the long years, and the terrible desolate loneliness.
And then something starts to happen. He realizes one day that he cares for those around him; that, because of the occasions when his aid is needed, his heart has begun to open. In spite of the grief, he has begun to live again.
It terrifies him. When his wife dies, he delays his decision, watching his son grow. By the time the boy also has passed on, he's made his decision.
Chiko. It meant pledge. They'd assured him when he'd asked that both his wife and son understood his heart, and would wait however long it took. So he'd taken up the new name and devoted his existence to helping those called shinigami, as doctor, councilor, friend.
He is a patient man.
Until the time came wherein he felt at peace, content to move on without fear of being needed, he could wait.
For the curious, Chiko's father was one of the Portugese who came over spreading the word of Christianity beginning in 1549, an attempt which, over the rest of the century and into the beginning of the next went slowly downhill. From EAG, info can be found here: www.baobab.or.jp/~stranger/mypage/chrinjap.htm
These side stories will happen whenever a character in a chapter has a major enough role to get one. Seiko will probably get the next one, either next chapter or the one after.
Next chapter--meeting more random people around the office, the beginning of training, and whatever else of importance I decide to throw in.