In his anger the scientist had proclaimed that he could fix Suzume’s condition in a single week. After seeing exactly what he had to fix he immediately regretted his heated choices, including his deal to get Michino on the throne. In retrospect, there was indeed a lot more from Nabushin he could of ask for if not for his pride. The twelve hours he had given himself as a “head start” were spent purely on taking small samples, (once he figured out how to do anyways), making a basic diagnosis, and setting up a number of seals in the room the patient was being kept in to regulate the flow of natural energy inside of it. The regulation at the very least seem to put his old colleague’s comatose state in some rest. Her vitals were normal but not sleeping normal, as if she was still awake but couldn’t communicate. It didn’t take a lot of reflection from his own personal hell to realize what she might be going through right now.
Following the first twelves hours the scientist left the Oujia-Ousha’s estate and returned to his trailer. The next three hours were spent clearing his schedule for the week to throw himself into what the Storm Lord asked of him, and after that, he began to meticulously go through every last medical book he had.
Suzume’s condition was unique, and that was a word he loathed. In the decades spent curing both his own and others impossible diseases, the scientist had rarely came across a problem that stumped him like this one. A whole day went by with no progress, the second day shot by the same, and by the third day Tama was nearly ready to write off the poor girl’s condition as inoperable. Even with taboo arts, her condition seemed impossible to fix. By the fourth day, having exhausted all the books written by others, he dove into the cursed knowledge written by his own hand and kept tucked far away.
Yet even with his own brand of forbidden science, even the ones that were straight against the wishes of the Storm Lord, her success rate of coming out on the other side of the operation were slim. Less than 10% survival rate, and only a 2% rate that she’d even come out as the same person. In these four days, with out a wink of sleep, the surgeon had drove himself into a corner. Finally after all these years he came across a case he couldn’t solve despite everything he knew and, well, failure was not something Tama handled well.
It was probably around 11:23pm. A lone yellow light bulb shaded by mosaic glass hung over the small round table tucked into the corner of his trailer’s kitchen/dining/living room. A television propped up on a folding table played static, and a radio on the kitchen bar was playing old music that was just barely drowning both the static and a low-speed ceiling fan. At the table the surgeon half laid across it face down in his defeat. In one hand was clutched a bottle of import vodka from the Lightning Country. It was a 110 proof collectors edition fifth of liquor stored in a copper lined glass bottle. Each taste was like smooth metallic rubbing alcohol but it did the trick. In the other hand was a pen that was tapping a notepad, ink soiling most of the pages, that were ideas either scratched out or just self insults. A shot glass shaped like a skull was knocked over a few inches away, but Tama had stopped measuring his vodka after the fourth shot. He groaned in frustration and inebriation as his brain, though slosh, still continued to grasp for an answer.
“There has got to be an answer…everything…can be solved…” he muttered to himself. He opened his bloodshot eyes and stared at the yellow paper for a moment without even doing so much as breathing. Then suddenly the priceless bottle of vodka flew across the room to shatter against the kitchen bar followed by a yell of frustration. The liquid splashed the radio, shorting it out and Tama had his head in his hands with the only sounds left to comfort him were a squeaky fan and the television’s static. He stood up suddenly, too fast, and took three angry steps away from the table before the alcohol content rushed through his brain and everything went black.
Another 24 hours later and the scientist opened his crusted shut eyes to find himself laying in a pool of vomit on his living room floor, again. He looked over towards the counter and found his precious liquor destroyed and could only grimace at the money wasted. He began to move through a painful hangover to get himself back off the floor when his sight caught notice of a bunch of ants. The bugs had managed to build on top of themselves, one by one, a bridge that lead up towards the bar after something organic that was spoiled by coming in contact with the liquor. His first instinct was to angerly swat at the little bridge when a sudden burst of inspiration hit him. Rebuilding. One by one. Each single piece.
Tama started doing a little excited hop as he realized after four days of research he was being a real idiot. Quickly he darted towards his sanitation room and began to clean himself of both smell and poison.
The sixth day was spent on a different kind of research. Instead of pouring over medical information he instead did as much looking into Suzume’s past as was allowed. Only a few hours in he found where he figured the original change happened and went on an excavation of the very building that had originally collapsed on her. The whole day was spent digging, but Tama located what he needed. It was a simple bone, a femur, that was barely holding together in the buried rubble, but he believed it was his patient’s. Once he brought it back home and did some testing he was able to confirm that the energy Suzume currently was, resonated with the scraps of DNA found in the solidified calcium. From this point on, it was all down hill.
Today was day seven. He had promised to cure Suzume in a single week and was finally prepared to manage the impossible. In the room she was resting Tama had requested help moving in one of his cloning pods that he had tweaked for the procedure. At its side he had gathered three members of the clan he trusted with medical work, minor as it would be, to help him in a nearly impossible task.
“I have gathered you three here today to break grounds in medical science. All three of you have some background in the field as nurses and have had a hand in assisting with high-profile surgeries. Ousuoni,” he said looking at a particularly young male, “you’ve personally assisted me once. Today we will rebuild the body of this woman, cell by cell, and merge them into one.
“This will be done with both the arcane arts and hard science. You will be assisting me in doing exactly what I say, when I say it, or Suzume will die. We only have 0.005% room for error, but I have faith that all of you have the talent and know-how to complete the return of Nabushin’s heir.” The three gathered nodded solemnly, not really wishing to get tangled with the surgeon purely based on Ousuoni’s play-by-play of the last surgery he helped Tama with. Their faith and loyalty to their family, though, overrode their dislike of the silver blonde. The next hour was spent in prep, the door to the room was sealed off both against outside air as filtered oxygen filled the room and forces of nature, and Tama felt one of his aids slide gloves into his hands. Carefully he pushed them into the entrance into the tube grabbed the bone floating inside, then crushed it into the fluids.
“Okay, next 24 hours are going to be rough, but try to stick with me. I’ll have Suzume in a real body by the end of the day, and ready to take that throne away from Nabushin in a week. Here we go…”
[MFT]
Following the first twelves hours the scientist left the Oujia-Ousha’s estate and returned to his trailer. The next three hours were spent clearing his schedule for the week to throw himself into what the Storm Lord asked of him, and after that, he began to meticulously go through every last medical book he had.
Suzume’s condition was unique, and that was a word he loathed. In the decades spent curing both his own and others impossible diseases, the scientist had rarely came across a problem that stumped him like this one. A whole day went by with no progress, the second day shot by the same, and by the third day Tama was nearly ready to write off the poor girl’s condition as inoperable. Even with taboo arts, her condition seemed impossible to fix. By the fourth day, having exhausted all the books written by others, he dove into the cursed knowledge written by his own hand and kept tucked far away.
Yet even with his own brand of forbidden science, even the ones that were straight against the wishes of the Storm Lord, her success rate of coming out on the other side of the operation were slim. Less than 10% survival rate, and only a 2% rate that she’d even come out as the same person. In these four days, with out a wink of sleep, the surgeon had drove himself into a corner. Finally after all these years he came across a case he couldn’t solve despite everything he knew and, well, failure was not something Tama handled well.
It was probably around 11:23pm. A lone yellow light bulb shaded by mosaic glass hung over the small round table tucked into the corner of his trailer’s kitchen/dining/living room. A television propped up on a folding table played static, and a radio on the kitchen bar was playing old music that was just barely drowning both the static and a low-speed ceiling fan. At the table the surgeon half laid across it face down in his defeat. In one hand was clutched a bottle of import vodka from the Lightning Country. It was a 110 proof collectors edition fifth of liquor stored in a copper lined glass bottle. Each taste was like smooth metallic rubbing alcohol but it did the trick. In the other hand was a pen that was tapping a notepad, ink soiling most of the pages, that were ideas either scratched out or just self insults. A shot glass shaped like a skull was knocked over a few inches away, but Tama had stopped measuring his vodka after the fourth shot. He groaned in frustration and inebriation as his brain, though slosh, still continued to grasp for an answer.
“There has got to be an answer…everything…can be solved…” he muttered to himself. He opened his bloodshot eyes and stared at the yellow paper for a moment without even doing so much as breathing. Then suddenly the priceless bottle of vodka flew across the room to shatter against the kitchen bar followed by a yell of frustration. The liquid splashed the radio, shorting it out and Tama had his head in his hands with the only sounds left to comfort him were a squeaky fan and the television’s static. He stood up suddenly, too fast, and took three angry steps away from the table before the alcohol content rushed through his brain and everything went black.
Another 24 hours later and the scientist opened his crusted shut eyes to find himself laying in a pool of vomit on his living room floor, again. He looked over towards the counter and found his precious liquor destroyed and could only grimace at the money wasted. He began to move through a painful hangover to get himself back off the floor when his sight caught notice of a bunch of ants. The bugs had managed to build on top of themselves, one by one, a bridge that lead up towards the bar after something organic that was spoiled by coming in contact with the liquor. His first instinct was to angerly swat at the little bridge when a sudden burst of inspiration hit him. Rebuilding. One by one. Each single piece.
Tama started doing a little excited hop as he realized after four days of research he was being a real idiot. Quickly he darted towards his sanitation room and began to clean himself of both smell and poison.
The sixth day was spent on a different kind of research. Instead of pouring over medical information he instead did as much looking into Suzume’s past as was allowed. Only a few hours in he found where he figured the original change happened and went on an excavation of the very building that had originally collapsed on her. The whole day was spent digging, but Tama located what he needed. It was a simple bone, a femur, that was barely holding together in the buried rubble, but he believed it was his patient’s. Once he brought it back home and did some testing he was able to confirm that the energy Suzume currently was, resonated with the scraps of DNA found in the solidified calcium. From this point on, it was all down hill.
Today was day seven. He had promised to cure Suzume in a single week and was finally prepared to manage the impossible. In the room she was resting Tama had requested help moving in one of his cloning pods that he had tweaked for the procedure. At its side he had gathered three members of the clan he trusted with medical work, minor as it would be, to help him in a nearly impossible task.
“I have gathered you three here today to break grounds in medical science. All three of you have some background in the field as nurses and have had a hand in assisting with high-profile surgeries. Ousuoni,” he said looking at a particularly young male, “you’ve personally assisted me once. Today we will rebuild the body of this woman, cell by cell, and merge them into one.
“This will be done with both the arcane arts and hard science. You will be assisting me in doing exactly what I say, when I say it, or Suzume will die. We only have 0.005% room for error, but I have faith that all of you have the talent and know-how to complete the return of Nabushin’s heir.” The three gathered nodded solemnly, not really wishing to get tangled with the surgeon purely based on Ousuoni’s play-by-play of the last surgery he helped Tama with. Their faith and loyalty to their family, though, overrode their dislike of the silver blonde. The next hour was spent in prep, the door to the room was sealed off both against outside air as filtered oxygen filled the room and forces of nature, and Tama felt one of his aids slide gloves into his hands. Carefully he pushed them into the entrance into the tube grabbed the bone floating inside, then crushed it into the fluids.
“Okay, next 24 hours are going to be rough, but try to stick with me. I’ll have Suzume in a real body by the end of the day, and ready to take that throne away from Nabushin in a week. Here we go…”
[MFT]