[OOM] Yugo and Professor Utahoshi.
Apr. 30th, 2013 11:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
orange_lilyDamn, Utahoshi Kengo hasn’t aged at all in the past five years.
Yugo resists asking him if that’s because he’s not actually human. Despite only really knowing him as ‘that guy who was in the floristry club, the really cheerful one’, Kengo had been kind enough to arrange an appointment. He’d played it down as just having some free time, but Yugo wasn’t stupid enough to think that Kengo’s schedule wasn’t absurdly busy.
They meet in the Miraikan, beneath the vast globe that showed the weather across the world. Kengo shakes his hand and Yugo bows, smiling brightly at him.
“Dude, Professor Utahoshi, hi.”
“Good morning, Fujita,” Kengo says levelly. “I’ve prepared the cosmic energy scanner. We’ll do several readings over the course of the day, and they shouldn’t take more than an hour each. You mostly just need to stand in the room and hold still.”
The room, as it turns out, is a tunnel of smooth white panels, nearly a perfect circle (it’s rather difficult to stand in it), some fifteen feet long, with a door at one end and a blue light at the other. The light gets smaller, then larger, then smaller, then larger, like an eye squinting at him. It’s almost fifty minutes before the door opens.
The cutting edge of science is really dull, apparently.
Kengo has him use the scanner three more times over the course of the day. It doesn’t get any more interesting, but it does get a little less long-winded, as if the scanner is now used to him. He finds Kengo looking over the results when he emerges from the fourth spell in the scanner.
“Fujita,” he says, in a voice that suggests there’s no tactful way to say this, “we may have a problem.”
The images are human shaped patches of colour – a normal human scan on the left, faint and washed out shades of blue; and Yugo’s scan on the right – vivid shades of red, purple and orange, almost incandescent in places, deepening to nearly black in others. With each scan taken over the day, the reds and oranges are brighter, the purples deeper and richer.
What disturbs Yugo more than that, though, is that at the outline that marks the edge of his body, the colours don’t stop. They spread out from his shoulderblades, curling against the tunnel, forming the unmistakeable image of vast, burning wings.
When Yugo has left, Kengo taps a few keys on his computer. It takes a few minutes to make a connection, but eventually two faces appear.
“Gentaro, Sakuta,” he says. “You should gather the Riders. They’ll want to see this.”
Yugo resists asking him if that’s because he’s not actually human. Despite only really knowing him as ‘that guy who was in the floristry club, the really cheerful one’, Kengo had been kind enough to arrange an appointment. He’d played it down as just having some free time, but Yugo wasn’t stupid enough to think that Kengo’s schedule wasn’t absurdly busy.
They meet in the Miraikan, beneath the vast globe that showed the weather across the world. Kengo shakes his hand and Yugo bows, smiling brightly at him.
“Dude, Professor Utahoshi, hi.”
“Good morning, Fujita,” Kengo says levelly. “I’ve prepared the cosmic energy scanner. We’ll do several readings over the course of the day, and they shouldn’t take more than an hour each. You mostly just need to stand in the room and hold still.”
The room, as it turns out, is a tunnel of smooth white panels, nearly a perfect circle (it’s rather difficult to stand in it), some fifteen feet long, with a door at one end and a blue light at the other. The light gets smaller, then larger, then smaller, then larger, like an eye squinting at him. It’s almost fifty minutes before the door opens.
The cutting edge of science is really dull, apparently.
Kengo has him use the scanner three more times over the course of the day. It doesn’t get any more interesting, but it does get a little less long-winded, as if the scanner is now used to him. He finds Kengo looking over the results when he emerges from the fourth spell in the scanner.
“Fujita,” he says, in a voice that suggests there’s no tactful way to say this, “we may have a problem.”
The images are human shaped patches of colour – a normal human scan on the left, faint and washed out shades of blue; and Yugo’s scan on the right – vivid shades of red, purple and orange, almost incandescent in places, deepening to nearly black in others. With each scan taken over the day, the reds and oranges are brighter, the purples deeper and richer.
What disturbs Yugo more than that, though, is that at the outline that marks the edge of his body, the colours don’t stop. They spread out from his shoulderblades, curling against the tunnel, forming the unmistakeable image of vast, burning wings.
When Yugo has left, Kengo taps a few keys on his computer. It takes a few minutes to make a connection, but eventually two faces appear.
“Gentaro, Sakuta,” he says. “You should gather the Riders. They’ll want to see this.”
