Maldoror (maldoror_gw) wrote,
Maldoror
maldoror_gw

Ofic: Out, part 2

Next ofic chapter. Incidentally, in case this wasn't already abundantly obvious, this fic is fast and furious and makes no attempt to be anything other than fun. I didn't think deep or develop the characterization, and the plot is the kind of lunatic pseudo-science/fantasy you roll up in cigarette paper and smoke during Tool concerts. I put a restriction on myself that I would not spend more than ten minutes researching any aspect of this fic, and I beg that nobody takes any of this seriously ^^;

But I'll tell you one thing. Two days ago I finished pounding out a whole page with less pain and time than at any point this past year, and as I glanced up at the clock to see it was half past way-too-late, the spontaneous words going through my head were "Wheee, that was FUN!"

To enjoy in the spirit...


Link to all chapters




Part two




The light shining into his eye flicked off, leaving Ryou to blink away red afterimages.

Yuki swapped the pocket flashlight for a pen and picked up his patient's chart. Ryou took this as permission to put his glasses back on.

"Good eye movement, no signs of retinal tear or intracranial swelling, sutures are okay," his brother concluded, and in the same breath and tone he added, "I just cannot believe someone like you would be dumb enough to get involved in a gang fight. Why didn't you call the police?"

"I was not thinking straight, I told you."

The stare Yuki gave him above the rim of the chart suggested that the idea of Ujiie Ryou not thinking straight did not fit into his version of reality. It seemed he'd rather suspect Ryou of some bizarre, probably business-related reason to intervene in a fight. Fortunately the police had been nowhere near as suspicious of the department head of an important financial firm.

"I have some clothes here for you," said Yuki, giving up on stubborn brothers. "Your assistant dropped them off."

"Sasaki? I didn't see him."

"Since he also brought folders and a laptop, I did not allow him to enter your room. Until you sign out, you're my patient - or rather Arimata-sensei's, but she let me be the attending since you asked for me. I'm not having a head trauma case pestered less than twenty-four hours after admission."

"You said I wasn't concussed."

"No, but you were in a car accident and then pelted with stones or whatever. You need rest."

Ryou reminded himself that Yuki had, from the earliest age, gone through life with that faintly hostile, suspicious air on his angular face, and so that 'whatever' was not necessarily a sign his brother doubted his story. It was a good thing Yuki had decided to become a surgeon rather than a physician, though; he had the drive, the skill and the lack of more than rudimentary bedside manners that would allow him to go far in his chosen profession.

Ryou watched discreetly as Yuki put away the chart and pen and then rearranged his stethoscope. His brother looked different in those scrubs; professional, confident and mature. Ryou's perception of his brother had lagged a bit behind, clinging to the sullen, abrupt adolescent of a few years back. This soon-to-be surgeon was a surprise. Somewhat good looking, too, despite the semi-permanent frown. Their mother would probably not have to arrange an omiai for Yuki, which was good as he would never put up with that kind of parental interference in his life.

Yuki stuck his hands in the pockets of his scrubs and stared at Ryou with a curiosity he did not try to hide. He was obviously intrigued by his older brother's actions the previous evening and the set of circumstances that had landed Ryou in his care. It would have been better if Ryou's Nissan had not reappeared near Daisiki General, where the ambulance Ryou had called had naturally taken them. Why the Nissan had reappeared near Daisiki General was a question Ryou was trying not to contemplate. He was aware that, during that last minute in not-Tokyo, thinking of medical aid had brought his brother to mind, but he did not see how that could have influenced anything. Since he understood absolutely nothing about that experience last night, speculation was not going to get him very far.

"What I don't understand-" Yuki started to say when a soft knock interrupted him.

"Who is it?" Yuki asked, turning towards the door. Daisiki General was not an exclusive clinic like some, but it had private rooms and the president had naturally made sure his eldest son was in the best available.

The door opened and Detective Kimura stuck his head into the room. "I apologize for my intrusion, doctor," he said, not sounding all that sorry.

"You already talked to my brother today," Yuki said sharply before the detective could even explain what he wanted. "He's told you all he knows. It's seven o'clock at night, he needs to rest-"

"Oh? Arimata-sensei said he was going to be discharged tomorrow. I took it he was doing well." Kimura gave Ryou a kindly smile. He had a face built for it, benevolent and round and a little shiny, as friendly as a full moon. Ryou suspected it was a mask as adept as his own.

"It's okay, Yuki," Ryou said before his brother could get into an argument. "Did you want to see me, detective?" They must have found inconsistencies in the story he'd spun for them, Ryou guessed. It was inevitable. Now he was going to have to be very, very careful.

"Yes, I wanted to ask you a few more questions about the man you rescued." Kimura sat down on a chair near Ryou's bed after a respectful nod.

"I don't think I can say I rescued him," said Ryou with automatic modesty one would expect of him in the circumstances. "I swerved and crashed to avoid him as he staggered out into the street, and then I just got him away from those hooligans. I'd gotten lost while driving around the town, and I'm not even sure where all this happened, or why."

"Yes, you told me so this morning," said Kimura in a way that left Ryou no way of guessing how badly the detective doubted his story. "Tell me, Ujiie-san, did he say anything to you?"

"No, he was injured; he couldn't tell me his name or what his attackers wanted"

"I mean, did he speak to you? Did he say anything?"

Kimura's insistence made Ryou cautious. Sure, the stranger had spoken a little, but since the first words that came to mind had to do with the persistence of garbage-monsters, Ryou did not intend to mention them. He took the safer option without hesitation. "No, he was pretty incoherent and then he passed out soon after I started driving."

Kimura did not ask him once more all the questions he'd asked this morning, the reasonable questions such as where had all this happened exactly, what had the men who'd done this looked like, how long had Ryou driven, why hadn't he called an ambulance sooner. Ryou had given as little information as he could, hiding behind the excuse of panic-born confusion from his accident, the violence he'd witnessed and having a stranger bleeding all over the leather interior of his car. He'd expected this to get challenged again when Kimura showed up tonight, but the detective merely nodded.

"Even if he didn't make sense, did he use any recognizable word at all?"

Kimura was definitely fishing for something..."No. Why?"

"I see, I see." Kimura got to his feet. "Never mind, I just wanted to confirm something."

"What?"

"It appears this foreigner doesn't speak any Japanese. No English either."

Kimura was already turning to go, but he was looking over his shoulder, studying Ryou's expression as he dropped those words, and his astute gaze was in no way as casual as his tone. But Ryou had years of experience keeping his face impassive by now.

"Oh, you mean he's awake?" was all he said.

Kimura smiled, still watching him. "Yes, he came to early this morning. A tough man, that one. Even though his injuries weren't critical, he'd gotten badly battered and had lost a lot of blood. He can't seem to tell us who he is, though, where he comes from or what language he speaks. We were wondering if he said anything to you."

"How could he if he doesn't speak Japanese?"

"It appears he doesn't speak Japanese," Kimura corrected him gently. "But neither is he making much effort to communicate. Never mind, we'll find out who he is soon enough. If you'll excuse me-"

"Can I see him?" Ryou had to ask, letting the words slip past his better judgment. The question had been burning in him this morning when Kimura had interviewed him, and he'd been forcing the words back every time his brother checked up on him today. The Tokyo outside his hospital window was real, but so was the place he'd been last night. Ryou's mind was labouring in an effort to reconcile the two, because he knew that as long as he lived, he'd never forget those brief minutes spent there however much he tried. He had to understand this, he had to put this experience in its place. The man he'd brought back from over there was the link between the two worlds, the living proof. It might be safer to bury his head in the sand, go back to his condo, get drunk, have a panic attack and go work on the Noruma account the next day, but Ryou could no more do that than fly.

Kimura did not look surprised at the request. The speed with which he turned around and handed Ryou a shiny smile suggested he'd been hoping for it. "If you don't mind, Ujiie-san. He might remember you-"

"Wait a minute," said Yuki. "My brother needs to rest, not get dragged across the hospital to see some criminal who got himself bludgeoned and stabbed-"

Ryou was already slipping the robe his mother had sent him over his hospital clothes. "It’s alright, Yuki. Besides, we don't know he's a criminal. Maybe he's a tourist who was attacked by vagrants."

"A man doesn't end up in that kind of state if he doesn't know his attackers or speak their language."

"You mean you saw him?" Ryou glanced back at his brother, who was following them down the hall.

Yuki shrugged in his usual prickly way. "You were asking about his health, so I just went to check. But he is not a man you should concern yourself with. Ito-sensei, the head of ICU, told me he'd been hit with a bat with nails on it, or some such weapon, as well as kicked and struck in the head. You're not telling me a tourist would get into that kind of fight to save a measly camera. Is this really necessary, detective?"

"Have no concerns, doctor." The faint frown in Kimura's otherwise smooth demeanour gave Ryou the intuition the detective had not wanted that many details of the case spread around. "He’s done nothing violent or threatening since he regained consciousness. Because he was badly assaulted by persons unknown, and cannot give us an explanation or an ID, I stationed one of my men outside his door as a routine measure. You can go about your duties, Ujiie-sensei, I'll keep your brother perfectly safe and unbothered."

"You haven't found out anything about this guy at all?" said Yuki, walking right behind the detective and either missing the hint or choosing not to pick it up. "How about his clothes?"

"What about them?" asked Kimura guardedly.

"The nurse who cut them off said you'd asked her for them. They were odd, according to her; she said they looked home-made."

"I'm afraid I can't comment on that, doctor."

That nurse had no idea what 'odd' was. Fortunately for her peace of mind, Ryou had, in the few minutes before the ambulance came, managed to strip the foreigner of his tunic with the reinforcing metal disks. It'd turned out to be laced down both sides with leather tongs and easy to remove. The man's pants had been made of tightly woven thick-fibered wool. They were laced with cord at knee and thigh, with some kind of leather cuirass and cup belted around his middle to protect his stomach and crotch. Ryou, still in the head space where only data mattered, had removed that too, along with the man's swordbelt. Then he'd buried the items as deep as he could in one of the shop dumpsters near the car where hopefully nobody would notice them. There would have been too many questions and complications if the hapless tourist he'd saved had come equipped in light armour. But he hadn't been able to do anything about the stranger's pants and undershirt, the latter too tight to slip off without causing his injuries to bleed more, despite Ryou's jacket knotted around him to staunch the flow. The shirt had been dark brown, where it wasn't sodden with blood, made of crude linen that did have a handcrafted feel about it. But it sort of went with the long hair and the disks plaited into it, and Ryou had hoped it would not excite too much comment. Some Westerner new-age type who was visiting Asia to connect with some nostalgic and inexact vision of the past, or some such.

The only thing Ryou had been totally unable to control was what the man would say when he woke up. He'd hoped to pass off talk of monsters and deserted streets as hallucinations, trauma, the influence of drugs, anything. It was not like anyone would believe the foreigner without proof, though it would still have required some finessing on Ryou's part. But now that seemed to not be a problem at all. That was just a little too good to be true...Why wasn’t the man talking? He could speak Japanese. Apart from that last word, 'magian', Ryou had understood everything the stranger had said, even when he would rather have gone ignorant.

"We're keeping him in his own room," said Kimura, exiting the elevator at the Intensive Care floor. "He'll be fit to be discharged by next week. We're just not sure where to. No embassy has come forth to claim him, unfortunately, and he's not actually done anything wrong since Ujiie-san can't remember him being armed or fighting back." Ryou kept his face on neutral as an image of the stranger swinging the sword, the one that'd been dropped back in the construction site, floated through his mind. "If he won't tell us who he is, where he's from and what he was involved in...well, the rest needn’t concern you, Ujiie-san. Here we are."

Ryou pushed up his glasses. He didn't really see the policeman getting up from his chair to salute, or the nurse peeking at them curiously from the corridor.

Apart from hospital clothes, the foreigner was exactly the same as Ryou remembered. He sat there in the raised bed, resting his back against the incline, hands on his knees beneath the cover, a pose that was considerably more active and watchful than one usually saw in a hospital. He was so...real. There was an intensity about him that had not looked out of place when he was fighting for his life in a construction site, but here made him stand out in a way that was much harder to conceal than bloodied armour. Ryou found himself wondering how on earth Kimura hadn't figured it all out already when it was as obvious and plain-to-see as the bed's pillows. With this man, and all that had happened last night, staring at him, things like the Noruma account suddenly seemed like a dream Ryou had woken up from.

"You finally showed up," said the stranger. "Good. We don't have much time, magian, so listen to me carefully."

That brought Ryou back to the present in a hurry. Great, how was he going to explain that to the detective? It was going to appear as if he was in collusion with a man who fought gangs for a hobby-

"What kind of language is that?" asked Yuki, nonplussed.

With every ounce of control Ryou had gained throughout his life, he managed not to betray his surprise. He knew without looking that Kiruma was watching him.

"I don't understand him either," he said, keeping his voice on a tight rein.

The stranger's eyes flickered towards Kimura, and when he spoke, he appeared to be addressing the detective, but Ryou knew who he was talking to all right. "Nobody can understand me if they haven't touched the lore and broken the Curse. I can't understand their jabber either. That just leaves you. You're going to get me out of this place and back to the Outlands."

"I don't understand what you're saying, sir," said Kimura in adequate English. "Do you understand me?"

Ryou, for his part, said nothing.

"If you don't get me back, my enemies will come looking for me." The stranger turned his gaze to the far wall, an unpleasant smile on his face. "But they won't find me, I'm not the one who brought us across the border; it was you. They'll find you through the traces you left in the Veil, and they'll get my location out of you if they have to kill every one of your friends and family to do so. If I'm back in the Outlands, they won't bother with you anymore. Come get me here the night after tomorrow at the time the moon rises."

Then there was silence.

With a faint click that sounded too loud, Kimura hit the Stop on a small recorder. "He'll speak for awhile like that, and then he won't say anything more. Ujiie-san, did you understand him?"

"Not a word," said Ryou, perfectly composed.

Kimura waited, eyes flickering from Ryou to the stranger and back, but since neither of them added anything, and Yuki was starting to shift and frown in the background, he eventually opened the door and led them out.

"That was a very odd language. I’ve not heard anything like it before," said Yuki, fingers tapping against the plastic casing of the drink dispenser as he waited for his coffee. "Though I almost thought I caught a word or two of Latin in there."

Kimura looked at him in surprise. "You know Latin, doctor?"

"A number of our Japanese terms in surgery and medicine come from Latin via the west, I learned a little of it to help me memorize them. I’m probably mistaken though; I didn’t actually understand any of what he said."

"I couldn't make heads or tails of it either, so I passed the tapes to a language and encryption expert at the NPA Research center. At first he thought it was very, very bad Latin." Kimura took a sip of his tea. "But when I sent him more samples, he said it more closely resembled antique Persian, of all things. He sent it to one of his university acquaintances who studies dead languages. The professor listened to it and sent me an email demanding to know what kind of joke this was."

"Did they actually understand what he said?" Ryou asked carefully, thinking of the tape in Kimura's pocket.

"No. I asked the professor, of course, but it's a language that doesn't really exist and the tongue it borrows from is as dead as a doornail. I touched base with him shortly before seeing you this evening. He was going on about a bastard form of-..." Kimura flipped open his phone, thumb-scrolled around and read off, "a form of Avestan stripped of its sibilants - I think that's what that kanji means - with pronunciation and some conjugation borrowed from vulgar Latin. He suggested it was a hoax by an ancient languages student who hadn't done his homework well enough. Odd, isn't it?" Once more a flick of a glance at Ryou, though it was Yuki, staring at the detective with a hand outstretched towards a forgotten cup of coffee, that gave him the better reaction.

"But...why would anyone go to that kind of trouble?" Yuki asked, finally rescuing his cup to let a couple of orderlies use the machine.

"That's what we hope to find out," said Kimura, walking away to a spot of the cafeteria that had no nearby ears.

"I suppose he could be a linguist, like your professor- but then what the hell was he doing getting beaten up here in Tokyo?"

Kimura spread his free hand in a gesture that meant he had no comment. This did not stop Yuki from speculating aloud as he walked them back to Ryou's room, in and around Kimura's polite interjections and remarks about discretion. Ryou was the only one who was silent. Persian, Latin, whatever, it didn't matter; when the stranger talked, Ryou could understand every word he said as if he were speaking in perfectly ordinary Japanese. That, and the monsters last night, the terrible rift in space, the snow and the wall, were all telling him one thing.

He was going to have to figure out when the moon was due to rise on Friday.


end part 2
=======================


Addendum:
As for the italicization debate, which happened to be for this fic; it seems the consensus is, 'yes, foreign words should be italicized but hey, it's your fic, do what feels right'. There's also a few more facts to be taken into account that I didn't mention in my previous post:
. The foreign language here does not, in fact, exist. It's loosely based on a language that nobody on my flist is likely to know (though if I'm wrong and an Ancient Languages student out there is fluent in Avestan, please get in touch with me asap).
. The language is not only foreign to the person whose POV it is, but these are specifically words that do not have a translation in his vocabulary and/or have become proper names in the mind of the person talking to him. Why he understands the other words in this language is due to a mix of algebraic mathematics, meta-language and magic. I don't know how that would be treated by a proper language specialist ^^;
. These terms do look better italicized, at first, because it would stress the weirdness of them in the hero's POV. But these words are never going to have a translation; they'll eventually become part of his vocabulary and have a meaning then. This means we’ll be seeing them a fair amount - not every other paragraph, but probably once a chapter - and italics would get annoying and worse, incorrect after awhile, once Ryou is used to the words. So rather than starting with italics and eventually dropping them (which would be inconsistent and weird, if much more exact within my own twisted understanding) I've decided not to go with italics at all.
. There are very few words involved here, and their meaning should be clear from context sooner or later, so no glossary. Enjoy the mild confusion, it brings you closer to the main character. If you're dying to know right away, feel free to ask me in comments.



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  • 3...2...1...Blast off!

    AO3 sent me an invite, I have a new account there, Maldoror_Chant, and no idea what I'm doing! Once I figure out the UI, I should be up and running,…

  • Here we go

    I spent a long boring 8 hour drive (long story) examining both Dreamwidth and AO3. They both look great. DW seems to make the journaling aspect of…

  • Well damn, LJ...just...damn...

    *catches up on LJ news* *headesk* Next step: Mastering LJ cuts again Next step: 1- backing up as much as my LJ stuff as I can 2- write as…