It was an abrupt ending to the spar. One, although unaware, secretly ended within the steam from the battle against the Iwagakurian warrior. Unseen by neither the Isaki nor his opponent, a third man was hidden within, waiting for the most opportune moment to strike; upon it revealing itself, he struck and succeeded without flaw. A chakra-laden blow to the upper spine; shattered and utterly dislocated. Karurosu fell unconscious as his body shut down almost immediately. The injury was critical, life-threatening without doubt. His sorry state was what permitted entrance into Iwagakure with minimal questioning or paperwork. The travel had no effect on the Isaki; he was carried gently enough after such a gruesome assault.
Finally, he woke up. It was dim, nothing like one would expect from a table where people are operated on; it went completely against the stereotype of the brilliant light flashing in your eyes, providing adequate light for surgical work, but blinded the patient thoroughly. But, then again, how could one know what had just occurred? It felt strange...rather, it felt like nothing at all. Nothing felt.
What had happened? Where was he? Why...why could he not move? Save for his eyes, nothing of his body responded to any call for movement. It was strange, it was frightening in a way that the Isaki could not imagine being frightened. Why was he not dead?
His eyes wildly traced over everything he could see -- as limited a view as that was when he was facing directly upward. As far as he could tell there was no one here -- he couldn't will himself to speak, to even make a sound, to see if such were true. There was no windows that he could see; he had no indication of time. How long had it been? Where was he? What actually happened? Near were various cabinets and other containers; was this some kind of workshop? Why would he be here? Did he pass out from the fire jutsu and was dragged here? But where was "here?" Karurosu was beyond confused and terrified by that fact. He was the one who was always supposed to know, and that he isn't was far less than ideal. Panic was beginning to set in; he had no control over any aspect of anything: not his surroundings, not himself.
He heard someone walk in; he couldn't see who it was, nor where they were. Then he heard it, their voice: a deep one, some man's. The voice, something in and of itself so trivial, broke the lasting silence with such a boom that it slightly startled the Isaki. It demanded him to move his big toe, using chakra. There was nothing he could do now but comply; he willed his body to do so as he was taught to, he couldn't feel any movement, he couldn't feel any part of himself. He wasn't sure whether or not it even moved.
The man had the Isaki try moving several more times, each as trivial a test as the last, until he gave up and pulled the body upward. Strands of red hair, long and silken, flew past his face; disbelief brought the Isaki to believe it was his. He couldn't move in the slightest still; all of his mobility came from the man. There was a loose fabric, open at the end, towards covered legs, white and without design like some dress or gown. The man then spoke.
"I suppose you're looking for an explanation?" he glanced at Karu without any care. "I'm a doctor," the first statement came; given the things he did before, it seemed obvious. "Apparently, you were fighting on the outskirts of Stone. Something along those lines. They get a bit blurred as the people who brought me to where you were panicked more and more. I've never seen someone sustain so much damage. Hopefully you can recall what happened to you later. You were barely living. The body you once had sustained too much damage to be repaired even by myself, and I'm considerably one of the best in the village of Stone. So I did the next best thing, I assume. I brought you here and gave you a better body. Temporary if you want it to be, but the body you once had was too far gone to salvage. Of course, with this body, you gain your old prowess and new prowess, but nothing can make it up to you, I'm sure," he added the last line, proving his point by providing a mirror and showing the strange face to him.
Despite what he said, and what he saw, he couldn't believe it. There was no way that he could have died. Be disabled or kidnapped or severely injured, sure. But to be critically injured to the point where he wouldn't have survived in his own body? Impossible. Who was this girl who was looking at him? She was pale skinned, but unblemished. The skin was unnatural, without fault in any aspect of it. Like a doll. It looked real,too real to be fake: who was this who was looking at him? It wasn't Karurosu; he couldn't bring himself to believe it.
Then the training began. The doctor wanted him to try speaking. If movement seemed impossible, would speaking seem just as much? Similarly to how he tried to manipulate his toe, he focused the chakra onto the throat and mouth to produce a sound. A single word was all he needed to say; the one word which seemed to be the only thing he desired in the world: help. The voice came out weak, and as soon as he heard it, himself, he stopped speaking all together. That wasn't his voice; it was too high pitched, too light. Too foreign.
The doctor was trying to work with him, as their difficult conversation continued, but the communication barrier was proving itself to be a massive challenge. The doctor made mention that bodily functions were useless; it meant that he wouldn't be able to manipulate chakra as he was trained to before. It meant he needed to learn a new way to work with the energy and sooner would be much preferable to later. Speaking, after considering that, was still incredibly difficult, but easier than before. Endurance on using chakra would have to be built up and better methods for using it would have to be learned. Karurosu asked for the doctor to help train him in this new body, so that he wouldn't be immobilized forever. The doctor finally understood and brought her to one of the rooms on the floor above; it was a small private gym. Although none of it would be used that day, it would be where Karurosu was for a while; that night, the two practiced continuing to speak even as the sun rose.
Training for a new life had begun.
Finally, he woke up. It was dim, nothing like one would expect from a table where people are operated on; it went completely against the stereotype of the brilliant light flashing in your eyes, providing adequate light for surgical work, but blinded the patient thoroughly. But, then again, how could one know what had just occurred? It felt strange...rather, it felt like nothing at all. Nothing felt.
What had happened? Where was he? Why...why could he not move? Save for his eyes, nothing of his body responded to any call for movement. It was strange, it was frightening in a way that the Isaki could not imagine being frightened. Why was he not dead?
His eyes wildly traced over everything he could see -- as limited a view as that was when he was facing directly upward. As far as he could tell there was no one here -- he couldn't will himself to speak, to even make a sound, to see if such were true. There was no windows that he could see; he had no indication of time. How long had it been? Where was he? What actually happened? Near were various cabinets and other containers; was this some kind of workshop? Why would he be here? Did he pass out from the fire jutsu and was dragged here? But where was "here?" Karurosu was beyond confused and terrified by that fact. He was the one who was always supposed to know, and that he isn't was far less than ideal. Panic was beginning to set in; he had no control over any aspect of anything: not his surroundings, not himself.
He heard someone walk in; he couldn't see who it was, nor where they were. Then he heard it, their voice: a deep one, some man's. The voice, something in and of itself so trivial, broke the lasting silence with such a boom that it slightly startled the Isaki. It demanded him to move his big toe, using chakra. There was nothing he could do now but comply; he willed his body to do so as he was taught to, he couldn't feel any movement, he couldn't feel any part of himself. He wasn't sure whether or not it even moved.
The man had the Isaki try moving several more times, each as trivial a test as the last, until he gave up and pulled the body upward. Strands of red hair, long and silken, flew past his face; disbelief brought the Isaki to believe it was his. He couldn't move in the slightest still; all of his mobility came from the man. There was a loose fabric, open at the end, towards covered legs, white and without design like some dress or gown. The man then spoke.
"I suppose you're looking for an explanation?" he glanced at Karu without any care. "I'm a doctor," the first statement came; given the things he did before, it seemed obvious. "Apparently, you were fighting on the outskirts of Stone. Something along those lines. They get a bit blurred as the people who brought me to where you were panicked more and more. I've never seen someone sustain so much damage. Hopefully you can recall what happened to you later. You were barely living. The body you once had sustained too much damage to be repaired even by myself, and I'm considerably one of the best in the village of Stone. So I did the next best thing, I assume. I brought you here and gave you a better body. Temporary if you want it to be, but the body you once had was too far gone to salvage. Of course, with this body, you gain your old prowess and new prowess, but nothing can make it up to you, I'm sure," he added the last line, proving his point by providing a mirror and showing the strange face to him.
Despite what he said, and what he saw, he couldn't believe it. There was no way that he could have died. Be disabled or kidnapped or severely injured, sure. But to be critically injured to the point where he wouldn't have survived in his own body? Impossible. Who was this girl who was looking at him? She was pale skinned, but unblemished. The skin was unnatural, without fault in any aspect of it. Like a doll. It looked real,too real to be fake: who was this who was looking at him? It wasn't Karurosu; he couldn't bring himself to believe it.
Then the training began. The doctor wanted him to try speaking. If movement seemed impossible, would speaking seem just as much? Similarly to how he tried to manipulate his toe, he focused the chakra onto the throat and mouth to produce a sound. A single word was all he needed to say; the one word which seemed to be the only thing he desired in the world: help. The voice came out weak, and as soon as he heard it, himself, he stopped speaking all together. That wasn't his voice; it was too high pitched, too light. Too foreign.
The doctor was trying to work with him, as their difficult conversation continued, but the communication barrier was proving itself to be a massive challenge. The doctor made mention that bodily functions were useless; it meant that he wouldn't be able to manipulate chakra as he was trained to before. It meant he needed to learn a new way to work with the energy and sooner would be much preferable to later. Speaking, after considering that, was still incredibly difficult, but easier than before. Endurance on using chakra would have to be built up and better methods for using it would have to be learned. Karurosu asked for the doctor to help train him in this new body, so that he wouldn't be immobilized forever. The doctor finally understood and brought her to one of the rooms on the floor above; it was a small private gym. Although none of it would be used that day, it would be where Karurosu was for a while; that night, the two practiced continuing to speak even as the sun rose.
Training for a new life had begun.
WC: 1154