“Heru… where on earth are you rushing off to?” inquired Fuad, the venerable senior editor, his gaze fixed upon Heru as he broke into a hurried trot towards the exit.
Heru halted abruptly, pivoting with breath slightly uneven, “Mr Fuad, the very case we were just discussing. The theft at the grocery store and the incident involving the dead rat at Koba Baru Pharmacy, has been resolved. Felzein called me himself moments ago.”
Fuad stood silent for a heartbeat, eyes widening with astonishment, “What?! Already?!”
At once, every soul in the newsroom swiveled towards them, the air thick with sudden stillness and expectation.
Heru inclined his head resolutely, “This is no ordinary story. It appears we shan’t require the meeting day after tomorrow, for the headline has arrived unbidden.”
Fuad emitted a low whistle of admiration and rose with commanding poise, “Ibrahim! Vania! Vera! Follow Heru immediately! Assist him in capturing every detail! Not a moment is to be squandered!”
“Right away, sir!” they responded in unison, swiftly gathering their equipment.
Heru offered a fleeting smile, eyes gleaming with quiet fervour, “This will be the year’s defining scoop…” he murmured under his breath.
Without hesitation, they surged from the room, leaving behind a newsroom alive with whispered excitement and restless anticipation.
It was no secret that Ibrahim, Vania, and Vera had been meticulously groomed by Fuad to forge a formidable investigative unit.
Ibrahim, the senior photographer within the newsroom where Heru toiled, was famed for his swift acuity, painstaking precision, and an almost uncanny visual instinct.
His expertise lay in the art of visual forensics, dissecting CCTV angles, scrutinising lighting nuances, and painstakingly reconstructing spatial layouts from the images he captured.
Such skills rendered him an invaluable asset in piecing together cases grounded firmly in visual evidence.
Then there was Vania, the tenacious field reporter specialising in medical crime.
With a background steeped in public health, she possessed an intimate knowledge of hospital operations, the intricacies of pharmacies, and the labyrinthine regulations governing pharmaceutical distribution.
Fearless in pursuit and armed with an extensive network among medical practitioners and law enforcement alike, she was instrumental in unearthing the hidden motives that lurked beneath the surface of complex investigations.
And lastly, Vera. An analyst of legal frameworks and criminal behaviour, her expertise straddled both psychology and criminal law.
She was charged with the delicate task of decoding motives, tracing behavioural patterns, and reading the subtle language of body and mind in both perpetrators and witnesses.
Her keen sensitivity to psychological manipulation and misdirection positioned her as the strategic mastermind within the team.
Together, alongside Heru, they formed a rare alchemy of investigative prowess, visual acuity, factual tenacity, and psycho-legal insight, coalescing into the newsroom’s most potent weapon against the shadows of crime.
*****
Meanwhile, within the shadowed confines of a clandestine infirmary tucked away in Osaka, Japan, a solitary figure lay utterly incapacitated.
His body was seized by paralysis, utterly motionless save for the faint, laboured movements of his lips struggling to form words.
“ヴラディスタ！ヴラディスタ！”
“Vuradisuta! Vuradisuta!”
The whispered plea was fraught with a haunting blend of desperation and surrender.
This was Kaito Ryu, Felzein’s steadfast friend from Japan, a bond forged years ago during their university days in Zurich.
Now, Ryu was confined to this silent torment, the heavy price of a sacrifice most profound.
Grievously wounded while shielding Felzein from the cataclysmic blast that tore through the Vuska Laboratory, he bore the scars of loyalty etched deep into his very flesh.
By his bedside, two physicians stood somber and weary, their faces shadowed with quiet hopelessness.
Four long years had slipped away, each one marked by unyielding stagnation in his condition.
Though countless medical interventions had been employed, the paralysis held fast, unrelenting.
And so each dawn, they clung to the fragile thread of hope. Hope that flickered ever dimmer as time slipped silently by.
Dr Hiroshi Takeda stood as a pillar of neurological expertise in Japan, his career spanning over two decades devoted to the intricate care of patients beset by severe brain injuries and complex nervous system disorders.
Revered within the medical fraternity, his name was synonymous with breakthroughs in post-traumatic neurological rehabilitation.
As the lead physician entrusted with Ryu’s fragile recovery, Dr Takeda had exhausted every avenue in his quest to restore the young man’s lost motor faculties, ravaged by grievous cranial trauma.
Each morning, he would pore over the results of meticulous neurological evaluations, painstaking MRI scans mapping the brain’s slow, imperceptible responses, searching for any glimmer of revival within the labyrinth of damaged neurons.
Alongside his team, he employed avant-garde treatments, among them deep brain stimulation, hoping to ignite dormant regions of the mind.
Yet, the progress was a mere whisper against the weight of the injury.
Beside him, Dr Aiko Fujimori brought his specialised mastery of medical rehabilitation and physiotherapy to bear, working tirelessly within the same hospital walls.
Trained in neurological physiotherapy, he crafted intensive physical regimens tailored to coax motion from stillness.
Day after day, he guided Ryu through constrained movements, utilising cutting-edge equipment designed to awaken silent nerves and bolster circulation and muscle strength.
Despite four years of unwavering dedication, tangible improvement remained elusive.
Undeterred, Dr Fujimori embraced every emerging method, from experimental stem cell therapies to bold neurological interventions, striving to breathe life into the shattered pathways of Ryu’s body.
Though their endeavours were marked by frustration, the glimmer of hope lingered stubbornly.
The promise of stem cell regeneration and deep brain stimulation their last bastions against despair, as they held fast to the belief that, one day, Ryu might reclaim the movement and voice that tragedy had stolen.
Four long years had slipped quietly by, yet despite their relentless endeavour and undiminished hope, Dr Takeda and Dr Fujimori were increasingly weighed down by a growing frustration.
Time advanced inexorably, yet no glimmer of progress dared to emerge.
Still, bound by a profound sense of duty and an unyielding commitment to their patient, they pressed onward, scouring every avenue for a key to unlock Ryu’s salvation.
Both understood, with a solemn gravity, that even the faintest sign of improvement, be it in body or mind, could usher in fresh possibilities.
Though weariness shadowed their spirits, their quest for the cure remained unceasing.
「ヴラディスータという人を呼んでもらうべきでしょうか？リュウが何年も言っていることですけど」
“Should we consider requesting the presence of this individual named Vuradisuta? It’s something Ryu has been pleading for, year after year,” Dr Takeda murmured, a flicker of bewilderment in his tone.
Dr Fujimori lingered in thought, his eyes fixed upon the monitor’s cold display, Ryu’s condition unchanged, unyielding.
「うーん、確かにそれも一理あるかもしれませんね」
“Hmm, there may indeed be a thread of truth to that,” he whispered.
「もしかしたら、ヴラディスータという人が来れば、リュウの状態が少しでも良くなるかもしれません」
“Perhaps, if this Vuradisuta were to come, Ryu’s condition might... if only in some small measure... improve.”
Their eyes met, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.
In their desperation to restore Ryu, they found themselves tentatively embracing possibilities that stretched beyond the ordinary, venturing into the realm of the unexpected and unorthodox.