The worry on Hana and Isao's faces was a sharp contrast to the excitement that radiated from Ryu's hospital room. A whiteboard stood proudly in one corner, displaying a schedule for the first phase of the clinical trial emblazoned in bold letters: "Operation Hope, Day One."
Today was the day for the first dose of the human trial for the syenthetic antibiotic they had discovered. It was understandable that everyone was a little anxious given Ryu's poor health.
With a worried expression on her face, Hana knelt next to him and extended a soft hand. "Do not worry, Ryu-sensei," she comforted him, trying not to show her slight trembling. "You will regain your strength after the treatment. We all believe in it."
"I know, Hana-san," Ryu whispered, his voice barely audible. "I just... I want to heal better so badly. So I can help others too." A shadow flickered across his eyes, hinting at a deeper understanding of the situation than his young age might suggest. "But sometimes, I question whether I would be strong enough in case something goes wrong."
Suddenly, a familiar sensation washed over Ryu. The time seemed to slow down, the sounds around him fading into a dull hum. Before his eyes, a translucent screen materialised, displaying a wealth of information. Words and numbers were printed in front of him like a game screen. It is a detailed breakdown of his own vitals. Numbers flickered, gauges filled and emptied—a real-time representation of his internal state.
Heart Rate: 140 bpm (rapid)
Respiratory Rate: 35 breaths per minute (tachypnea)
Blood Pressure: 80/50 mmHg (hypotensive)
Oxygen Saturation: 85% (below normal)
Ryu's eyes widened as he processed the information, his young mind grappling with the gravity of what he was seeing. The numbers danced before him, each one a stark reminder of his failing health.
Alarm bells clanged in Ryu's mind. These numbers spelled trouble. He looked towards Isao, his voice barely a whisper due to his laboured breathing.
A silent scream stuck in Ryu's chest as panic gnawed at his throat. These numbers spelled a different kind of story than the hopeful one scrawled on the whiteboard. He called Isao in a raspy voice that was difficult to hear over his laboured wheezing.
"Mr. Isao, listen carefully," he gasped, each word a Herculean effort. "I'm... I'm going to faint soon. Do exactly as I say, or else my recovery will be very difficult, maybe even impossible." His voice hitched, his breath catching in his throat. "Maybe even impossible."
Isao's face paled, his eyes widening in shock. He leaned closer, his own breath quickening as the gravity of Ryu's words sank in. He enquired, "Ryu, what do you mean? How do you know this?"
Ryu's eyes flicked to the invisible screen before him, then back to Isao. "There's no time to explain," he wheezed. "Please, Mr. Isao. Trust me."
Isao, his face etched with a mixture of disbelief and dawning comprehension, leaned closer, his own breath ragged with the weight of the situation. The memory of Ryu's uncanny medical knowledge from a past incident flickered in his mind, pushing aside the initial spark of doubt.
"Alright, Ryu-kun," he said, his voice firm despite the tremor running through him. "Tell me exactly what to do."
Taking a shuddering breath, Ryu focused all his remaining energy on translating the data flashing before his eyes. "After I lose consciousness," he gasped, each word a herculean effort, "I need the antibiotic injection, Yukimira, 500 mg. Continue doing it every three hours until my vital signs stabilise. And blood thinners 'cough'... "
Ryu continued, his voice barely a whisper. "Make an herbal concoction. Dandelion weed, roses, onion, and garlic juice. It'll help reduce the fluid buildup and lower my blood pressure. And a catheter, Mr. Isao. My insides are inflamed. I won't be able to pass urine normally."
Isao's hand trembled as he scribbled down the instructions, his mind reeling. The specificity of Ryu's instructions, the medical terminology flowing from the lips of a five-year-old, was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. "Ryu, how do you know all this?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.
Ryu's eyes met Isao's, a flicker of something ancient and unknowable passing through them. "I... I just do, Mr. Isao. Please, there's no time."
Isao scribbled down the instructions with trembling hands, his mind reeling. This wasn't the babbling of a delirious child. This was precise, targeted medical knowledge. A horrifying but undeniable truth settled in his gut: Ryu, somehow, was seeing his own body failing him, and he was dictating the treatment.
"My lungs..." Ryu wheezed, his voice fading. "Fluid buildup. They're struggling. You'll need a syringe to extract it directly. And oxygen, Mr. Isao. My oxygen levels are dropping. Put me on a ventilator, quickly."
A tear escaped Isao's eye, tracing a warm path down his cheek. This wasn't just a faint hope anymore; it was a desperate gamble, a last-ditch effort orchestrated by a five-year-old boy staring death in the face. "And the medications Dr. Yuki prescribed?" Isao asked, his voice thick with emotion.
"Insufficient," Ryu rasped, his eyelids fluttering closed. "Higher dosages. My organs are failing. I need more aggressive treatment."
Isao's heart raced, his mind struggling to process the surreal situation. Here was a child, barely old enough to read, dictating complex medical procedures with the confidence of a seasoned doctor. "Ryu, I... I don't understand. How can you possibly know all this?"
Ryu's eyes, filled with wisdom far beyond his years, met Isao's. "Mr. Isao, please... just trust me. There's no time to explain. Promise me you'll follow my instructions, no matter what anyone else says."
Isao nodded, a lump forming in his throat. "I promise, Ryu. I'll do everything you've said."
The weight of each word pressed down on Ryu, stealing his breath. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and his vision began to blur. Before Isao could react further, Ryu's eyes fluttered shut, and his head lolled back. Panic surged through Isao and Hana.
"Hana! Get Dr. Yuki, now!" Isao roared, his voice cracking with a mixture of terror and a newfound, chilling certainty. Ryu's detailed instructions, delivered in a raspy whisper that belied his young age, echoed in his mind. It wasn't the babbling of a delirious child; it was a precise medical directive delivered with terrifying clarity.
Hana bolted from the room, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as she ran to find Dr. Yuki. Isao turned back to Ryu, his hand gently squeezing the boy's limp fingers. "Hold on, Ryu," he whispered. "Just hold on."
Dr. Yuki rushed into the room, her face grim as she assessed Ryu's unconscious form. The vitals on the monitor confirmed the dire situation. Isao told her about Ryu's instructions, and she, as an experienced medic, could not find any fault in his instructions or logic.
Dr. Yuki's brow furrowed as she listened to Isao's frantic explanation. "This is... unprecedented," she muttered, her eyes darting between Ryu and the monitor. "But the instructions are sound. How could he possibly...?"
Without hesitation, Dr. Yuki barked out orders. "Prepare the antibiotic injection, Isao. And the catheter. We'll follow the boy's instructions to the letter for now. Get me a syringe too, sterilised. We might need to remove some fluid from his lungs directly."
Isao scrambled to obey, his hands shaking slightly as he gathered the necessary supplies. The sterile clatter of equipment echoed in the tense silence, a counterpoint to the rhythmic whirring of the ventilator that had just been hooked up to Ryu.
Without hesitation, she followed Ryu's instructions, administering the antibiotic injection and setting up the ventilator. She instructed Isao to make the strange cocktail Ryu had told him to give him, and she also instructed Isao to follow all the other instructions Ryu had given.
As Dr. Yuki worked, her movements precise and efficient, she couldn't help but marvel at the situation. "In all my years of practice," she murmured, more to herself than to Isao, "I've never seen anything like this. It's as if he could see inside his own body."
Isao nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's not the first time he's shown this... ability. I don't understand it, but I believe in him."
A tense silence descended upon the room as they waited for Ryu's response to the treatment. The rhythmic whirring of the ventilator provided a stark contrast to the shallow gasps that had escaped his lips moments before. In Dr. Yuki's eyes, a silent question hung in the air: Was this a stroke of genius or a desperate gamble by a sick child? Only time would tell.
As the minutes ticked by, Isao and Dr. Yuki watched the monitors intently, searching for any sign of improvement. The air in the room was thick with tension, broken only by the steady beep of the heart monitor and the hiss of the ventilator.
"Come on, Ryu," Isao whispered, his hand gently squeezing the boy's. "You've never led us wrong before. Don't start now."
## Author's Note##
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