What Returned

Hello there.

    What I am about to present within the body of this topic is the first of two segments that comprise a piece of fiction created in honor (and anticipation) of Godzilla (2016). However, allow me to preface this bit of fancy with a warning: there are no titanic battles or kaiju within this presentation. For those of you whom are used to such fare, I do not wish to waste your time; this is a fairly tame and thoughtful bit of work. With that being said, I certainly hope that each of you whom chooses to read this piece finds enjoyment in doing so.

What Returned

    The “Swiss Knife” - that's what many of his colleagues and the younger interns had taken to calling him due to his extensive knowledge within the whole of the medical field. Most would have found the nickname odd or perhaps even mocking, but it was plain to see in the eyes of all who spoke it that the unorthodox title was levied only with the greatest of respect – denoting the diverse and ready skill of the one upon whom it had been bestowed. Even so, Dr. Hisato Kishida could rarely help but chuckle with bemused bewilderment each time he heard himself referred to by his unofficial sobriquet. At 82 years of age, he had witnessed first hand the incredible rise of the world's medical fields from what he would consider fumbling and often dangerous guesswork to the incredible sciences that now provided the opportunity for healthier, longer lives to every man, woman and child throughout the world. As such, he had also been on the forefront of a great deal of the research and application linked to the steady fruition of the medical fields – an aspect of his often haphazard training that would eventually lead to others frequently referring to him as the Swiss Knife. When it came to medical practice, he could do just about anything – fill just about any role.

    Though it had taken him a lifetime to achieve, Dr. Kishida often felt that his diverse skill was hardly a trait to be lauded or held with such esteem; in point of fact he often found it strange that his repertoire was not commonplace throughout the medical circles in which he traveled. Yet, he frequently forgot that the world had moved form generalized practices to hyper-specialization. To excel in the work climates of today was to finely tune one's self to a well-defined and singular talent. Such a practice offered the greatest chance for advancement within the world's sometimes inordinately competitive job market. However, it also left one with a learning foundation that was precariously thin – alarmingly so, by his standards.

    “If the base upon which you stand is a mountain, there are many places to which you can step to avoid a landslide; but if you choose to walk the edge of a blade of grass...”. Dr. Kishida was notorious for reciting this adage to each and every intern with whom he conversed – hoping against hope that they would see the wisdom in the rather old-fashioned words. Though many would nod with thoughtful expressions that were all-to-often feigned, most never truly took the time to truly understand their value – too busy with the studies that would lead them onto the blade of grass against which he so ardently warned. That had been the case for years; and it was the case even now.

    Seated at his office desk, the Tokyo skyline beautifully aglow with countless lights in the night lending a soft luminescence to the tidy and well-appointed room's panoramic windows, Dr. Kishida gave a faint sigh as he gazed upon the single manilla envelope resting squarely before him. Thick with what was undoubtedly a considerable stack of paperwork, the envelope was distinctly marked with the signatures of more than one individual whose station rested well above his – and though he'd put it aside for the majority of the day in favor of more than a few lectures, the large, bod URGENT scrawled across its front and back left him with little choice but to at last pay it the attention it demanded. Yet, every part of him railed against the notion. Deep within his heart, he had a distinct feeling that he knew that to which the envelope pertained. It was something of a gift he had developed over the course of his eight decades - and he wished for nothing more than to be rid of it during moments such as these.

    Reaching into the pocket of his vest to produce a small, thin-stocked pipe, Dr. Kishida tapped the stem's mouth piece to his lips as he opened the front drawer of his desk to fetch the small can of hazelnut tobacco therein. Smiling faintly as he realized he'd likely receive yet another, exceedingly polite reprimand for smoking in his office during the off hours, he tapped a few small pinches of the fragrant tobacco into the bowl of his pipe – smiling once more and arching a silvery eyebrow as he realized that he wasn't overly concerned for the repercussions of his little vice. Medically sound or not, few things took the stress out of a day like a good whiff; a respite he feared would be warranted quite soundly if his suspicions were validated.

    Running a hand thoughtfully over the well-kept beard and mustache that appointed his wizened face, Dr. Kishida gave one last – and very fleeting – thought to the ramifications of indulging his habit before striking a match and setting light to the tobacco expertly nested within his pipe – drawing with even breaths and delighting as the air came alive with the delicate aroma with which he was quite familiar. Shaking the match with a swift flick of his wrist to break the flame, Dr. Kishida breathed out a wide plume of smoke and leaned forward to at last lift the envelope – arching an eyebrow at the weight as his chair softly creaked with his movements. Slowly, methodically, he retrieved the small, bladed envelope opener from its sconce beside his pen and gently sheared through the top of the manilla package with one fluid motion.

    Taking a small puff on his pipe as he delicately sat the opener aside, Dr. Kishida carefully removed the dense stack of papers from the envelope and placed them upon the desk before him. Immediately, he saw that the top paper was a formal request from the five heads of his collegiate. Well-typed and bearing the signatures of each of the men and women from whom it had come, the letter was concise and to the point.

Kishida

    It is with heavy heart and greatest respect that we request your professional stance on the enclosed material. Within, you will find the last documentations from the crew of the Toorima, as well as the preliminary photographs and impressions of the salvage personnel responsible for locating the vessel. Foul play has been ruled highly unlikely; suspect possible accident due to tectonic instability during expedition. Once again, your extensive knowledge is our first recourse.

Kindly look after this matter for us.

    Setting the letter aside with a growing frown, Dr. Kishida leaned back in his chair with a faint sigh as he gently ran a hand over his beard, breathing out yet another trailing wisp of smoke with a far-off expression. The Toorima – the vessel Akio had chartered.

    His suspicions had now been verified.