Warning: Implied desecration in the first section.

She wasn't alone on the road for long.

The rescue teams from the outpost had made quick work of their surroundings, expanding the perimeter around the forest as Tatsuhito had requested. Arisa came across a group of them near the abandoned village and, upon identifying herself, was quickly whisked away to the main site of operations. It had originally been set up closer to the forest border but after recent developments had been moved further back, closer to the delta on account of the purported abilities of the yōkai hybrid which had been confirmed to be lurking nearby.

Kushii, the man escorting her, was reticent for most of the way there, but Arisa certainly didn't blame him for it. His ashen countenance was enough of an indication as to the nervous energy he exuded, and though countless questions were at the tip of her tongue, she thought it wise to hold her thoughts for the remainder of their trek through the grounds. Were it not for the pressing circumstances, she might have found herself marveling at the rapidity of the collective response.

Passing one of the makeshift tents that had been set up there, they were nearly cut off by a pair of yōgari who came bolting out from the opening flap. She saw the empty stretcher held between them and slowed her steps.

"How many so far were...?"

Arisa let the words hang. She didn't want to say it.

"At least five on our end when I left." Kushii reached up to mop his brow. "Reckon it's gone up since."

She kept her eyes glued to the entrance of that tent, the familiarity that stirred within her a heavy feeling indeed. Heavy enough to nearly drown out the urgency screaming at the back of her mind, if but for a moment.

"Let me see," she heard herself say.

Kushii's steps suddenly slowed, and she didn't need to look in his direction to sense the subtle shift in his bearings.

He didn't know her but perhaps he knew of her. Of what had happened to her. (She wondered if she could ever fully get away from it.) In the end, maybe that was what finally convinced him.

"...this way."

Arisa followed him to another tent, ducking beneath an overhanging plastic tarp serving as the entrance when he waved her in. The interior was threadbare, containing only the bare bone minimum to maintain its function as a makeshift holding area for the bodies. The air was kept cooler here, cool enough to nip bare skin, though that did little to dispel the pungent scent of death. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the meager light and locked onto the row of occupied tables which crammed the dim, narrow space.

Behind her, the older yōgari pulled the tarp shut behind him with an impatient snap. She hung back a bit from the closest table, keeping her approximation of a respectful distance as he approached one of the covered corpses. He started to pull the sheet back, then paused to throw her a questioning look over his shoulder.

"You might recognize this one if you were staying at Hidamari the same time as them."

Arisa swallowed dryly.

"Is it a man or a woman?"

"One of the maids, according to Maeura-san, just brought in before I left. I think she was one of the last ones they managed to get out before the reports came in. They found her where the attack was and... well. It's no pretty sight."

Ito's face came to mind for some reason. Arisa had to consciously steel herself before speaking up again.

"Just show me."

If this was the work of a Kyōgui, she had to see it. Needed to, to know what they were up against.

And so he did.

It wasn't Ito. That didn't make it any easier.

He had only peeled the cover back enough to expose the upper half, but that was fine because quite frankly, that was all they needed to see.

At a first glance, it was hard to tell what it was that had ultimately finished her off. They could only hope that it was blood loss from the two arrow wounds, which were easily the most trivial out of everything that had been inflicted to her corpse. To what was visible, anyhow.

Arisa estimated it'd take hours and hours for a coroner to get through it all.

She had been torn open at her midsection – mangled and bit and clawed and just ripped apart like some wild animal had gotten to her, only in this case they both knew very well that this was the work of no animal.

But that was far from the worst of it.

Calcified clumps of larvae overflowed from the hole shredded into her womb, a few of them having knocked loose and pattering to the table with the initial retraction of the sheet. A large flap of skin was also missing from her face, peeled back to expose the lines of teeth and gum and the sinews of her jaw. And peering closer they could also see that there were plenty of crystallized maggots burrowed in there too.

"Like I said..." Kushii began uneasily, though maybe it was more to reassure himself than anyone else. He stopped himself and shook his head. "Well. It's bad."

"Yes."

"And I'm sorry for the poor son of a bitch that does his autopsy once they get him."

"I can see myself," Arisa answered. The inadvertent warning in her voice perhaps was as thick as the emotions underlying it. And she meant it. Deliberate or not, she truly did. Somehow it didn't feel right to comment any further on how terrible this all was. Somehow it felt unfair to this poor woman – if that was even fathomable at this point.

She wondered how she was supposed to tell Koga. The thought stung, and Arisa was quick to recenter her gaze back to the corpse.

Breathe.

That was for later. Had to be.

For now, all she could afford was to be cruel. To remain in the present.

The wound on the face was what stuck out the most. He clearly had moved on there from the abdomen and he would have kept going, too. But something must have interrupted him.

"Seems he left in a hurry," she said.

"Fleeing from another one, you think?"

That was the million berri question – because if that were the case, the surrounding signatures would reflect that, wouldn't it? And of course that was also ignoring that this one had gone under detection for so long – an anomaly in and of itself.

Arisa could only shake her head. Nothing about this made sense. She wasn't sure if it ever would. It certainly wouldn't for this woman.

"And the rest are like this too?"

Kushii started to nod, but stopped.

"Out of the ones that can be identified, I think she got the worst of it. Left out there the longest and all, poor girl."

Apparently this was more done to her further down, but they decided to just trust Maeura's word. Neither of them was sure if they could handle any more than what they'd already seen.

Kushii pulled the sheet back – a careful motion, almost reverent, and she was grateful for it.

At this point, it was the most they could do for her.

──────────────────

"We can't send them back out there," Tatsuhito said, voice bleak. He sat on a crate, the slight slouch in his posture accentuated with his forearms resting on his knees. He hadn't moved once from that position – not when Arisa had come in, not even when a nearby Transponder Snail began to ring over the surrounding hubbub. He was staring past her now, seemingly into something beyond the scope of his own understanding.

"I know."

"It's a Kodera Ikki operative, for fuck's sake..." They both knew that already but he said it anyway. Had said it multiple times. Not so much a justification, perhaps, than a genuine effort to break himself out of his daze – to somehow convince himself that this was all real.

"I know," Arisa repeated, softer now. And she did.

He was right, as usual. It was too dangerous. Too many unknowns. Too much to lose.

With the perimeter encompassing the forest now established, they were locked into a stalemate or sorts. The target was contained in that general area – or at least under the impression that he was.

That was the prevailing hope, at least.

The problem ultimately lay in the true extent of his abilities – the physical scope of it, to be more exact. His Kyōki signature was still inexplicably fragile, flickering haphazardly in and out of range of detection, but mapping his movements, though challenging, was still doable. This, aided by the locations of the bodies that had been recovered, indicated that the Kyōgui was capable of creating bubbles of infestation in his general vicinity – summoned, most likely, as a protective measure against prospective hunters. The presence of several Horned Mask Snails still active in the region also created an effective dead zone for all communication. As things stood right now, it was simply too risky to allow the rescuers to carry on their work. Even the majority of the patrols from the outpost, with their limited experience overseas, was deemed unequipped for this case.

Besides, like Tatsuhito had said... this was no ordinary Kyōgui. His signature was documented after all.

It meant that he had a track record. Multiple prior victims.

Haimushi. The unspoken implication posed by that name caused her skin to prickle in disconcertment.

'Lung bug.'

Surely it couldn't be a coincidence, right? And judging by the look on Tatsuhito's face, he was no doubt thinking the same thing.

The veracity of these speculations aside, the sobering reality remained steadfast: that this Kyōgui had been given a codename alone was more than reason enough to worry. Aliases carried a titular connotation when it came to the Kodera Ikki, with the leadership only granting them only to those serving in its upper echelons. When one was killed, the name would live on in another anointed to take their place.

And yet it was more than just a rank to so many of them. More than an identity, even. It was regarded as an inheritance, a generational blood oath. Perhaps even to some, their way to claim permanence against all odds. A spit to the face of nature, to mortality itself.

That was how so many of them fell to begin with, wasn't it?

A fear of death. God complex. Innate compulsion. Spiral. A raw heart pumping between clenched teeth.

Oh, the lengths one was willing to take.

Arisa thought back to the woman on that table. The parts of her they had seen, the parts they were unwilling to see. Then she pictured Mother's face and suppressed a violent shiver. In the years after Suzume had gone, she'd pondered on it often, trying to map an origin to this madness. Someone had once described it to her as an addiction. Another, desperation. And yet another, hubris.

Maybe it was all of those things. Maybe it was none.

But in the end, how much of it was inevitable?

What did it take to go from man to unstoppable monster?

Of course the world held no answers for her. Not by any definitive metric, and Arisa had always been petrified in the face of that silence. Had always shirked from it. In that sense she'd always remained that pathetic, frightened child from so long ago.

But how could she be wrong to fear? Mother – who was so strong – had pushed that limit and had seemingly paid the price with her life. And Saboady... oh, Saboady had been a lesson of its own, showing her more than enough of a glimpse into the dreadful reality, that the line demarcating the fateful split was so razor thin it very well might not exist to begin with.

Tatsuhito sat motionless for a few moments longer, chin lowered in contemplation. With a start Arisa realized she had been watching him this entire time without consciously registering it, too lost in her own swirling anxieties to muster anything concrete to say. But it was fine. He looked to be making up his mind about something on his own anyway. Or maybe he already had. She wouldn't have been surprised by that, in the way it was already half evident in his face when he looked up.

"When will Riyu get here?"

"Soon. They left only a bit after me..."

Arisa would have said more. But she stopped when she caught his eye. Read the finality in his expression. It wasn't defeat she saw there. Nor was it despair. It was resolve, but not in a sense that was even remotely reassuring. Maybe the sort of look fitting for a martyr. Or even an executioner if you were really to think about it.

"...Tatsuhito."

He didn't answer.

She lurched to her feet then, because she knew... she knew what he was thinking. The suspicion had been anchored the instant he'd brought up Riyu's name, but now she was almost certain she knew where he was going with this. And it terrified her.

"No." Without any further contemplation, that was about the only thing she could say. Vaguely, she wondered if the word sounded as bitter and clumsy and idiotic as it felt on her tongue.

He turned his head to look at her, the motion made somewhat vacant by the coldness now steeped across the sharp line of his mouth, the grave furrows in his brow.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't. Because you know exactly what I'll say if you do." Arisa shook her head. It was all she could do and it wasn't exactly lost on her, how piteous that was. How ineffectual. "It's reckless. You're being reckless. The stuff they drugged her with, she still hasn't... She can't, she can't. She won't do it."

She won't do it.

Such a laughable thing to say, when they both knew that she would. Happily. Kushihashi Riyu would do that and so much more. She would throw herself headlong against an army and die recklessly, likely with a smile on her face too if that was what was required of her.

"She will," Tatsuhito said, and the sudden gentleness in his voice knelled in Arisa's ears like a death sentence. In that sense maybe he really was more executioner than martyr. "You know she will when I ask her. With her powers and mine...it's the best that we can do. The only chance we've got."

He was actively avoiding her gaze now, in a manner that somehow reminded her of Jasha. And that made it so much worse. It was almost as if he were trying to protect her – protect himself, even – from the impending cruelty posed behind his words, despite knowing how futile it was. Perhaps such reluctance could be construed to be dishonest – insulting, even – through an uncharitable lens.

And right now, Arisa wasn't sure how much was left in her that could afford to be charitable.

"No," she repeated, plaintively. "I won't let you."

"We don't have time for this."

"We can call Uncle. We can still figure something out –"

"There are still people trapped in there with him, Arisa!" His voice swelled into something loud and terrible, almost a shout, and she suddenly felt like a child again. Maybe even something smaller than that. "People who might still be hanging on. People with families, waiting for us. Don't you see? We don't... we don't have a choice anymore!"

We don't have a choice.

It isn't up to us.

Shiori had said the exact same thing a few nights ago, and Arisa hadn't hated it any less then.

This time was different. This time the lines were clearly defined. Even she knew that deep down. Knew precisely what they were up against, that his and Riyu's combined spectral abilities was the most obvious counter to the threat as they knew it. The fastest way to get the rescuers back on the ground without jeopardizing even more lives.

Tatsuhito was right.

But this was the Kodera Ikki.

It was too much. Too overwhelming. It reminded her of the Sabaody incident and everything was on the verge of falling apart again and she couldn't think straight with all these awful possibilities choking her to the point of disorientation.

Her mind flashed back to that tent, the bodies laid out the tables. Stiff and cold with maggots gnawing beneath their skin... and the tangibility of the chance that the two of them might end up there before sundown was not lost on her.

She knew he was right and what Riyu's decision would be; she knew she couldn't stop them and yet she still couldn't help not dreading the worst. Not just for her, but also for him. For Shiori, too, because Arisa knew how much it would destroy her, if things turned out the way she feared.

She thought of Jasha, his head cradled in her arms. She wanted to cry.

She wondered if it hadn't occurred to Tatsuhito yet, all of these things... and maybe that was why he was being so cruel and adamant.

Or maybe she was no different from Jasha – or at least that sad, tired husk of a man he'd become towards the end. Exactly as he'd said, an ordinary coward and wretch. Maybe she was sick the same way she had once called him sick. Still sick. A selfish, delusional ghost. Too caught up trying to keep things that couldn't be kept even while the world was on the brink of caving in around her. Too damaged to move beyond the ruins she'd been reduced to at Sabaody.

"I'll... I'll go with you then," she said aloud, a tremor audible in her voice, and for a fleeting moment she wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or to something beyond him. She wasn't sure if that made a difference. "Let me go with you."

But Tatsuhito only shook his head.

"Let me. You said so yourself, right? That it's too dangerous. So let me."

She wondered if he could read the tacit plea in her voice. If he cared enough to understand. She prayed that he might, if only for the sake of her sanity.

Listen to me, please. I'm not weak anymore. You don't have to treat me like a victim.

I can be useful. Just don't leave me behind here.

"Please. I–... I can go with you both."

"No. We can't afford that," Tatsuhito answered quietly. "We have no way of confirming there aren't any others. Misokatsu-sama would surely agree with me. Besides..."

Hesitation stilled his lips, the first flicker of genuine conflict playing out over his features. Arisa let out a shaky breath of her own and felt her gaze drop to the floor. Discerning it.

Of course. There was still that.

She felt another violent lurch at the pit of her stomach as a new fear surfaced with painful clarity – about as marked as the ink strokes of the surgical diagrams Law had shown her the night before – reorienting the scope of everything all over again.

...except maybe it should have been present this entire time. That fear.

"The alliance..." Her voice was low, unintentionally hollow. She wasn't sure which one Tatsuhito would have referred to if he was thinking of one at all. Both were of equal priority to her uncle – she knew that much – but now Uzuki Misokatsu's wishes mattered very little when the lives of all parties involved were on the line either way. Arisa had an inkling that Tatsuhito understood this as well as she did. Yet in the end, they were only capable of expressing their fears in the way they were most familiar with.

"Yes... The alliance."

A shallow nod – equally tentative and reserved – was all that accompanied his words, and Arisa suddenly found herself wondering what Trafalgar Law would make of all of this. This elaborate framework they'd been raised to operate under. All the rules, the formalities, the countless layers they constructed around themselves. Learning to communicate in inoffensive subtleties and insinuations like a second language... Even now. Especially now. Maybe that was the whole point of it, as Mother always seemed to believe.

You always can't help but avoid being direct, can you?

The ringing of another Transponder Snail registered faintly from the background, made painfully more prominent in the weighty silence that bloomed once more. It only served to accentuate how much time was steadily dwindling away. The sharp sting of her nails embedding into her palms helped to throttle back her anxiety. Clear her head somewhat.

She couldn't afford to be selfish anymore. She knew that.

(How many times had she told herself this, exactly? How many times was reasonable...?)

Chin lowering, Arisa steadied herself with a tremulous sigh. Tatsuhito straightened ever so slightly, the clear worry in his eyes sharpening to focus.

"When they get here..." he began slowly, "I need you to stick with Himuro. I don't know where they'll have him go, though my bet is to the coast."

This was the arrangement that made the most sense, loathe as Arisa was to admit it. Out of all of them, she and Himuro were also the only two who had a direct line of communication with the Hearts in case... well, in case things went south. The what and how behind that scenario were aspects she didn't want to dwell on without further information, but the point stood nonetheless.

They didn't know nearly enough to eliminate any of the possibilities they feared most.

"We need eyes on the submarine, and he'll need the protection...." Tatsuhito stopped upon noticing her face and leaned in, and the sense of urgency heightening in his voice really had no right to provoke her as much as it did. "Arisa –"

Maybe he had been anticipating her pushing back further, but he was wrong. It simply wasn't a matter of convincing her anymore – the severity of the situation ensured that. So she choked back her misgivings and made a point of nodding slowly, huffing out another sigh. She didn't know if that would convince him but it was the most she could bring herself to do.

"You, just..." She slowed, drawing herself up upon remembering something, another fear detaching itself from the underpinnings of her heart, an ache which resounded familiar and distinct like seeping poison. Another name, another face. "Before you go. You... you need to call Shiori, alright? You need to tell her. Tell her what you told me."

Everything else, too.

Everything you can't risk leaving unsaid.

Hachinobe Tatsuhito stopped short again, opening his mouth then closing it, for once seeming utterly at a loss for words. He looked at her. She kept her chin raised, continuing to pin him with her gaze.

There would be no need to elaborate. She could tell that much upon seeing the sudden sadness that emerged in his kind, tired eyes.

"...of course I will."

──────────────────

Megitsune made a beeline for the first structure she came across – a dilapidated hunting shack that thankfully looked to have long been abandoned. She dragged herself over the threshold, slamming the door behind her with such intensity that the entire structure shuddered with a squeal of protesting wood and an accompanying cough of dust.

She barely heard it. Her ears were still ringing, loud enough to the point where she could scarcely even think straight. Whether it was from the head blow or residual adrenaline, she couldn't quite ascertain.

Nor did she care to. At least that was what she kept trying to tell herself. Soon enough, her physical state as she now knew it would only be a distant memory. She would get to leave all of this – Ito and Koga and that stupid brat and all the ruin that had come to pass here. Maybe one day she would get to look back to this day with pride. To be able to claim the incident which altered the Kodera Ikki's course in history as an accomplishment that was irrefutably her own.

Megitsune had no question that she would, eventually. He never broke his promises to her after all.

She tried to focus on that. Tried to find solace in it.

The pain was getting harder and harder to ignore, though.

Her legs suddenly buckled beneath her and she sank to the floor with her back pressed to that useless, flimsy door. Everything burned – these phantom sensations throbbing, itching, clawing at her inside and out – so much to the point where there was doubt she'd be physically choking on them had this body not ceased breathing a long time ago.

She looked down at her hands through unfocused eyes, taking in the mutilated skin, and immediately pushed down the urge to heave when she thought she detected a movement from the fraying patches.

She wanted to convince herself that it was still far too early. That she was seeing things. But she was no fool; she knew what was coming. Megitsune had worked countless missions with that asshole, had seen him work his abilities enough not to delude herself.

And as for the blot on her neck – that indelible mark on her skin outlining his ironclad grip before she'd managed to wrench free – ...oh, that would spread similarly, even if it was smaller than the ones on her arms. In fact, maybe it already had begun. There was no way to tell without a mirror, and there was no way in hell she was going to touch it for fear of accelerating the spread, no matter how tempting it was.

And God, wasn't it so tempting? Picturing how it looked, she could feel it – no, feel him – growing beneath her skin, and even if this body wasn't her own the prospect was so fucking disgusting she was almost in the mind to try gouging him out with her fingernails. Even if that meant tearing off her own skin and groping through throbbing viscera to expel him.

Even if killed her. Not even as Ito, but as herself.

It burned. Oh, how it fucking burned.

She had always seen this coming and steeled herself accordingly, but of course that ultimately had been of little use. She could see that now. She should have known there was no way to prepare herself for experiencing this in person.

The discomfort was only one aspect of it; for humans, the fear was just as significant. And even she wasn't fully immune to it.

Megitsune choked out a laugh and shook loose strands of hair out her eyes.

Move... Move.

She needed to get moving.

Surely Haimushi was still looking for her.

She had rightfully counted on his fitful temperament to hinder his immediate reaction thus far – had he kept his presence of mind when she'd ambushed him, she certainly wouldn't be here now – but she couldn't rely on things working to her favor forever. Nor could she rely on the yōgari as a safety net, even despite the alarm having been raised. Knowing how the leadership at Amenoka-ji hunters operated, it was safe to assume they wouldn't jump the gun as recklessly as Tenkū-jō might.

Brute forcing things had never been their modus operandi. No, their strategies always tended to be more surgical.

If Megitsune were to hazard a guess, they would only send in their heavy hitters to isolate and eliminate the primary threat as swiftly as possible.

Less fodder, in other words. Uzuki Misokatsu was never one to waste resources, after all. So there was a good chance that Haimushi would still have quite a bit of leeway as long as he stayed within that perimeter. At least until the hunters found him.

If he managed to catch up to her during that time...

Megitsune dragged herself up to her feet, wheezing slightly as she clutched the dagger handle tucked into her sash. The taste of blood clung to the roof of her mouth, and she turned her face and spat dryly in an attempt to expel it.

She didn't want to think about that.

Masabe-sama... Her eyes shone with an unnatural glint as she pushed the door open and staggered back out into the light, swaying slightly with every step.

Just you wait.

I'm almost done, I promise.

Just one more to go...

──────────────────

Polar Tang

Operating Room #2

Click, click, click.

The metal spreaders of the sternal retractor opened fully with one final turn of the handle, exposing the still-beating heart as well the sides of both lungs along the walls of the surgical opening.

Next to Uni, Clione stood waiting with his instruments held at ready, watching as Yotsuji shifted the heart out of the way to examine the left lung.

The next step was to set up the cardiopulmonary bypass – a routine procedure everyone (of course with the exception of Kurage, their newly minted scrub tech) knew like the backs of their hands. The most difficult part, the dividing of the arterial and venous architecture and accompanying extraction of the graft, could only take place once the heart and lungs were temporarily stopped.

Catching Kurage's eye, Clione gave a small nod of reassurance and turned to the lead surgeon.

"Should we go ahead and start setting up the pump?"

Posed casually, the question was posed more for Kurage's benefit than anyone else; Clione certainly hadn't been expecting anything other than the affirmative in response.

But there was no immediate answer. Yotsuji's eyes were squinted slightly behind the shield of the protective glasses he wore. It was as if he hadn't even heard the question to begin with.

Sharing a dubious look with Ikkaku, Clione cleared his throat and tried again.

"Uh... Doctor...?"

Yotsuji finally looked up, fully retracting his hands from the opening. Ikkaku stiffened when he turned his attention to her.

"Is there a way to contact the other operating room?"

"Right now?" Clione was unable to keep the alarm out of his voice.

"Yes. Is there?"

"We do... sort of," Uni piped up nervously. "We have, uh, two Transponder Snails on loudspeaker that are connected to the main viewing room. I'm sure there's a way to bypass it and sync them up directly."

"That'll do then." Yotsuji nodded and turned to Kurage. "Call them. I need to speak with Trafalgar."

"What do you mean?" Ikkaku demanded, always as succinct as ever in voicing aloud her crewmates' thoughts. "Is there something wrong?"

"That depends... on what he's able to handle," Yotsuji answered carefully. Above the line of his mask, his eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze back down at the surgical site. "Just call him, please.

"I need to confirm something with him before we proceed."

──────────────────

"Why are they stopping?" Kurowashi's mutter abruptly broke the stillness which had settled over the darkened room. He watched on with growing confusion as one of the gowned figures went scurrying off the edge of the screen to carry out Yotsuji's request. He turned to Hokyū, a tinge of alarm creeping into his voice. "What the hell is going on? Is something wrong?"

"...I have no idea." For once, Hokyū made no attempt to hide his bafflement with regards to the development. Switching the footage to the other operating room, he began to turn the volume dial on the Proko Snail.

──────────────────

Polar Tang

Operating Room #1

Even with the ventilation, it still had taken some time for the stench to become even remotely tolerable. Despite this, Law had made plenty of progress. The lower pulmonary veins, lobe arteries, and lower bronchus were divided and sutured with such dizzying speed that Shiro found himself doubting that the pirate captain could have been much faster under normal conditions.

And the fact that the hyper-competitive Tsubu – the self-proclaimed 'Blitz' of the surgery department back during their Navy days – didn't offer much of anything in terms of critique spoke volumes as to the technical quality of the work.

However, even with the most challenging aspects of the extraction now out of the way, the extent of the lung's physical degradation still served to be a major hindrance in and of itself. They were left with the tedious task of manually scraping away the sloughed tissue that remained clinging to the chest walls and clearing out the discharge fluids from the infection. With so much adherence to the surrounding structures, the work was slow – slow enough, perhaps, to make up for the time Law had saved earlier.

Still, Shiro was in remarkably better spirits than when they'd first started the procedure. It was clear to him (and no doubt his friends, though they wouldn't admit it) now that pirate or not, Trafalgar Law knew damn well what he was doing.

There would be no need to interfere like Tsubu had feared, not now or during the actual implantation.

Waka-sama was in good hands. Shiro felt fully confident in admitting that now –

"Uh... Captain?" Azarashi broke in quietly. "We have a call coming in from the other operating room."

What? Shiro looked up in alarm and shot a quick look at the clock. He did remember a message coming through earlier that Dr. Yotsuji had started the retrieval operation. But that had been a while back. If something had happened since then...

"Put him on," Law answered nonchalantly, a curette in hand.

Shiro didn't miss the slight frown of concern that came over Tsubu's expression as Azarashi quickly complied. Presently, another Transponder Snail unfurled its eyestalks from where it was affixed to the wall adjacent to the entrance.

"Trafalgar. Can you hear me?" Dr. Yotsuji's voice crackled over the line.

"Yeah. What is it."

Shiro hid a wince, seeing the way Tsubu visibly tensed. No doubt he was physically biting back an admonishment on the perceived disrespect. Their mentor, however, seemed undaunted by the impropriety.

"You were right. The lobes of his left lung... They're too densely fused."

Shiro tightened his lips, his grip tightening over the suction tube. In the conventional procedure, surgeons relied on the fissures demarcating the pulmonary lobes to expose the architecture within. In cases where the lobes were fused together, these fissures were incomplete or absent altogether, making it all the more difficult to identify the interlobar arteries which needed to be dissected.

"Can't you make an artificial fissure?" Tsubu broke in.

Shiro nodded along. That was indeed a known technique – utilizing staplers to divide the connective tissue and expose the pulmonary artery.

"I could have..." Yotsuji answered with a meaningful look to Law, who continued to work without any indication that he was listening along. "Were it not for the choice of incision."

Law's eyes flickered upwards for a fraction of a second, before settling back down to the surgical site.

"What do you mean?" Now it was Koshi's turn to look visibly confused. "Aren't you going in from the side?"

Yeah. Shiro frowned. Wasn't it standard practice to go for a thoracotomy?

"He's doing a median sternotomy," Law spoke up suddenly, still not looking up from his work. "Following my recommendation."

"Hah?!" The three whirled upon the surgeon. Were it not for their masks, their jaws would have been hanging wide open in disbelief. "A sternotomy?!"

"Are you insane?!" Tsubu raised his voice, regaining some of his pluck. "That's...! How the fuck is he supposed access the lower left lobe through there?"

"Yeah... Just how?"

"His heart is in the way!"

Law ignored the objections and turned his attention to the Transponder Snail.

"I was anticipating this to some degree," he muttered, more to himself, before speaking up. "Yotsuji-ya. You were hoping it wasn't as bad as I said, weren't you?"

"What are you even talking about?" Tsubu demanded, aptly putting Shiro's own internal confusion to words.

Strangely enough, Dr. Yotsuji didn't look remotely aggravated. His demeanor was more... defeated than anything. He let out a sigh and fell silent for a moment.

Law continued to speak as he carried on with his work.

"I made the decision to suggest a sternotomy when I scanned Mototatsu-ya before the surgery. Yotsuji-ya was there with me when I discovered two complications. The first was exactly what you heard – that the upper and lower left lobes were tightly fused. Of course, there are ways to deal with that with proper access, so I wasn't too worried about it.

"The second, though, was what really got my attention. The intended graft would have been too large for the brat."

"...too large?" Shiro repeated timidly.

"Yes. Using my Scan, I compared the volumes of the lobes on both sides and found Mototatsu-ya's lower left lobe was a poor fit overall. Too large, especially when taking the brat's hypertrophy into account. It also had an irregular shape which would have placed further unnecessary pressure on the enlarged heart.

"So I proposed altering the procedure and removing the lobe from Mototatsu-ya's right lung instead."

Shiro's eyes widened.

Right-to-left inverted living donor lobar lung transplantation.

He had only read of similar procedures in case studies, and even then it was considered highly risky. Too risky with the lack of sufficient internal imaging methods to accommodate the technique, and hence its rarity.

Hell, Shiro could even wager that even Tsubu, the surgery junkie that he was, had never had the opportunity to stand in for such an operation.

The main difficulty in the approach lay in the spatial positioning of the graft. For a contralateral lung transplant, the lobe had to be rotated one hundred and eighty degrees before being placed in the opposite side of the chest, meaning that the surgeon had to re-route various arteries and bronchus of the graft to separate ones of the host. The procedure required extensive planning as a result – and even then, it was prone to complications simply due to the technical challenges associated with it!

To attempt one so spontaneously...

It was madness.

"It's too reckless!" Tsubu snapped, whipping his head towards the Transponder Snail. "Do you have any idea how rare this maneuver is? None of us have any experience with it, so how can we trust a nobody like you to pull it off? There... There's no way in hell Dr. Yotsuji would have agreed to this!"

"You're right. He didn't," Law answered coldly, eyes still trained to the sterile field. "At least that was the impression I got. He refused to budge at first, no matter what I told him."

Shiro shared a look with Koshi. So that was why they had been left waiting for so long. Even until the last moment, the two surgeons had been butting heads over which procedure to take.

"We were running out of time, so I left him with an ultimatum. Sternotomy for the right lobe, or intercostal thoracotomy for the left. The first approach would leave me responsible for the most difficult part of the operation. Easily the safer route."

Safer... Shiro shot a warning look to Tsubu, who looked ready to erupt at any moment. Now that's a bit subjective now, isn't it?

"The second approach would allow us to forgo graft inversion, of course," Law went on. "But that would require the retrieval team to cut down the graft for a better fit, which carries the risk of damaging it. Not to mention it's a waste of perfectly healthy tissue."

He paused and looked up.

"So I see you went with the sternotomy. But clearly not for the same reason as I suggested."

"For Mototatsu-sama, it was the safer option," Yotsuji answered tersely.

Shiro had to agree. Sternotomy incisions were smaller and carried significantly less risk of post-operative complications than thoracotomies.

"Yes. And it also gives you access to both lungs." A hint of scorn crept into the Surgeon of Death's voice. "You wanted to have it both ways, hoping that the left lobe would still be salvageable so you could abide by the known approach. Playing things as safe as possible."

"You say that as if it's something to blame me for," Yotsuji answered, his voice hardening. "That is our duty as doctors. To minimize the risk for our patients. Your methods are too ambitious!"

"So what will you do?"

Law left the question hanging in the air for a moment. The corners of his eyes crinkled when no one dared to speak up. Shiro could easily imagine the mocking sneer concealed behind the mask.

"You made a gamble, and you lost it. Will you dig your heels in any further? Close him up and attempt to re-position him for a thoracotomy with a wound in his chest? Are you willing to go that far?"

"Don't get facetious with me!" Dr. Yotsuji snapped, sounding as close as could be to losing his temper. And Shiro could have sworn to have detected a shred of true desperation in his voice. It occurred to him then for the first time that perhaps the point of this call wasn't to berate or belittle Law, or even to try to convince him otherwise.

Perhaps all he was looking for was reassurance in the face of the terrifying unknown.

Yotsuji let out a breath, sounding as if he were seething it out from between clenched teeth.

"All I need is to know that you can comprehend it," he finally said. "The difficulty of what you're proposing to do. How unprecedented it is. I've met countless talented surgeons throughout my career who wouldn't dare to attempt something like this at gunpoint."

Law didn't even bat an eye. He merely took another scalpel proffered by Azarashi and resumed working again.

"Just... answer me honestly, Trafalgar." There was another beat of hesitation. "Are you... are you absolutely certain you can pull this off?"

This warranted a pause. The surgeon's eyes flickered upwards, the blade in his hand stilling as a glint of cold amusement came over his gaze.

"You know yourself that I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise."

──────────────────

Megitsune didn't know how long it took before she was forced to stop again. Whether she was still within harm's way. Either way she figured she'd managed to make it as far as she had, because even she couldn't have anticipated how much worse it could have gotten.

It was close to unbearable at this point. Harder to concentrate. Harder to move. She hadn't mustered the will to examine herself again; she could only imagine how she looked now, though the matter of her own appearance was the furthest thing from her mind now.

She wanted to curl up on the ground and melt into the soil, never having to move or think or feel again. Simultaneously she wanted to claw Haimushi's eyes out. His and then her own.

Her tongue felt stiff and heavy and bloated in her mouth, reminding her of another symptom that had unexpectedly arisen. Ah, that was right. She was also thirsty – so terribly thirsty.

This had come as a genuine surprise, given she was only about half a degree removed from a literal corpse...

Say... there had to be a water pump around here somewhere, right?

The prospect swirled about, a flimsy and transient thing about as disjointed as the rest of her disjointed thoughts, before slowly taking root into a genuine possibility warranting action. An urge to be satiated.

Megitsune slowly raised her head from the stone slab she'd been slumped over, looking about the abandoned fishing village with bleary eyes. This was the same one she'd met up with Haimushi and Mukade just last night. She couldn't remember if there were any houses with water pumps.

She planted her palms and pushed herself to her feet.

If not a pump, then a well.

There had to be a communal well somewhere...

She was so disoriented that the faint sound of footsteps approaching from around the corner of the house went completely unnoticed until it was far too late.

"...Ito?"

A pair of electric blue eyes stared down at her in a mixture of shock and confusion.

And Megitsune felt what little remained of her blood turn to ice.

Thanks for reading & see you next chapter,

-shiba