As Ryu and Isao were enjoying their meal, a figure approached them in the cafeteria.
"Mind if I join you, gentlemen?" Yuki Sarutobi asked the two, enjoying their meal. She gracefully interrupted their exchange.
A broad smile spread across Ryu's face as he spoke, "Mother Yuki, By all means, please join us." He gestured to the empty seat opposite him. "We could use the extra company, and the more, the merrier, right, Mr Isao?"
Isao nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely, Dr Yuki. Your company is always welcome."
Yuki smiled warmly at both of them. "Thank you, both. It's refreshing to see both of you are mixing well."
Isao shuffled to make space. Yuki, with her neatly tied hair and bright eyes, sank into the seat with a grateful smile. "Thank you."
After a series of polite pleasantries regarding the day, Yuki asked, "How is your work progressing? Have any of the unusual experiments you have been carrying out in the temporary laboratory you set up in the library produced any encouraging findings?"
Ryu mumbled, "Ahh," as he chewed his food. "We have completed our preliminary work. Tomorrow, we may verify the results. It might save lives if it works."
Yuki leaned forward, intrigued. "Save lives, you say? That's quite a claim, Ryu. Can you elaborate without compromising your research?"
Ryu hesitated, choosing his words carefully, and said, "Let's just say we're exploring new frontiers in combating infections. Even though the project is in the initial stage, there is a lot of potential in our work."
Yuki nodded, respecting his reticence. "A mystery for another day, then. However, that leads me perfectly to the other matter that has everyone talking. Speaking of work, I can't help but overhear whispers about the unconventional diagnosis you made the other day right here in this cafeteria. It's causing quite a stir among the staff and patrons, including myself."
Ryu's expression changed, a modest surprise crossing his features. "Oh, that. It was merely an observation that caught my attention, and I shared it."
Yuki gave him a sharp, knowing look. "Ryu, those 'observations' surpassed the skills of every professional doctor in numerous hospitals."
She leaned in slightly. "Your diagnosis of Mr Hashimoto is the talk of the town. The man who stumped every department? That's quite a stir for someone 'just sharing an observation.'"
Ryu offered a sheepish smile. "News travels fast, huh? I just wanted to help, honestly."
"And help you did," Yuki confirmed, "but it has caused a lot of people to take notice, Ryu. Everyone wants to know more about you.
Yuki found herself lost in thought, the earlier weight of her conversation with Hiruzen momentarily forgotten. Seeing Ryu now, confident and capable, ignited a spark of hope she had long extinguished. She had failed to cure his sickness, a professional failure that haunted her, but if his mind was capable of solving Mr Hashimoto's puzzle, perhaps he truly held the key to his own. The cynicism was fading; she was beginning to trust him.
Yuki focused on Ryu and said, "You see, I admire a good mystery. But attracting too much attention, especially of the wrong kind, could be detrimental to your research. Ryu, it is not just the town talking; some very specific people in high places are asking questions about the results of your 'observation'."
After a moment of reflection, Ryu looked up at Yuki and said, "I thought that too, but would you have hesitated knowing you could alleviate a man's suffering?"
He continued, "Don't you have a sacred oath to treat your patients with the utmost care?"
Yuki retorted, "I am a doctor; I am bound by the principles of medicine, but you are not. What compelled you, someone not bound by such obligations, to offer your help?"
Ryu, his earnestness shining through his words, confessed, "I couldn't turn a blind eye. Initially, I doubted that anyone would believe my findings, so why bother? Yet the man's agony was palpable, and I had the power to change that." He added quietly, "And when you live with an inexplicable affliction yourself, you learn to see the suffering in others, even when the experts say it's not real."
Yuki, taken aback by the young man's seriousness, leaned forward, her gaze intent. "Tell me, Ryu," she prompted, her voice gentle yet laced with a thirst for understanding, "how did you arrive at your diagnosis?"
Taking a deep breath, Ryu set his fork down with a soft clink. "Mother Yuki", he began, his voice gaining momentum, "the problem with traditional medical diagnostics is that they sometimes have blind spots. Mr Hashimoto was a perfect example. The tests revealed nothing amiss, yet he was clearly suffering."
A flicker of understanding crossed Yuki's face. "So you looked beyond the results," she mused, her interest piqued.
"Exactly!" Ryu exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with a passion for this unconventional approach. "I call it the art of holistic diagnosis. Modern medicine is brilliant, but sometimes hyper-specialisation creates blinders. It's about treating the entire life of the patient, not just the isolated symptom. When the lab tells you nothing is wrong, that's when you have to look hardest at the patient's world—their routine, their environment, their subtle movements." He paused, letting his words sink in before adding, "It's about looking beyond the obvious, thinking outside the box."
Yuki nodded slowly, her mind racing with the implications of Ryu's unconventional approach. She said, "It's an intriguing approach, Ryu. However, it's also highly subjective. How do you ensure accuracy?"
Ryu leaned forward and replied, "That is, Mother Yuki, where the medical examinations come into play. We use these observations as a starting point, then verify with targeted tests. It's a blend of intuition and hard evidence."
As Ryu elaborated, Yuki listened intently, and Ryu next explained how he came to the diagnosis to her.
"The central mystery was his extreme sensitivity to the sun—his symptoms only seemed to flare up violently when exposed to UV light, yet they completely disappeared in the dark. Doctors thought it was psychological or a rare disease, but it felt like environmental misdirection.
"The clues were subtle: barely audible wheezing, a faint aroma clinging to his clothes, and subtle changes in skin tone that vanished quickly. But the most crucial evidence was his shoes, covered with fine white dust from the new construction near the quarry. That's where the pieces started to fit together. He used to go for walks early in the morning before sunrise, returning before the sun was high."
Yuki asked, "So, the dust is the irritant?"
"More than that," Ryu replied. "The quarry dust was limestone. When those fine particles mixed with his perspiration and were then subjected to intense UV light, they triggered a severe photosensitive allergic reaction. His routine saved him from being immediately covered in evidence, as he'd bathe and wash the dust away before the day began, but the persistent fine particles and the sun were the cause. I admit, for a moment, I considered the supernatural, like a vampire, because his symptoms disappeared in the dark. But it was far simpler: environmental photosensitivity. No mystery, just misdirection."
Yuki's eyes widened in amazement, and she said, "That's... remarkable, Ryu. The level of detail, the connections you've made... it's incredible."
Isao, who had been listening silently, finally broke in. "I've never seen anything like it. It's truly like you're a detective, an artist, and a doctor rolled into one."
Ryu replied, "It's not that special, really. It's just about paying attention and connecting the dots."
Isao added, "It sounds special to me, Ryu. You found the answer not in the lab, but in the man's life."
He said that, but he knew deep down that his sharp mind could draw those conclusions because of his abilities. His [Peripheral Awareness] and [Improved Eyesight] were to thank for it.
"But that's precisely what makes it special," Yuki countered. "The ability to see those connections where others don't. It's a rare gift, Ryu."
"Ryu," she began, a mixture of awe and concern in her voice, "you are a fascinating mystery."
Ryu shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "I'm just trying to help, Mother Yuki. That's all."
A/N:
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