Venerated

"Sloppy." Megumi addresses, with a click of her tongue as she readjusts the standing light to get a better look at Shinji's bullet wound. She'd performed the surgery herself, and so she's sure the technique was impeccable, but regular review for signs of infections are necessary.

Shinji's no doctor, so he might not realize, but it's a good shot. Better than a good shot - the marksman is uncannily accurate. The bullet traveled anteroposterior between the 4th and 5th ribs, into the parenchyma that should house the left ventricle, and lodged, flawlessly against the back rib. Very dangerous. If Shinji where anyone else, he'd be dead.

But the sharp shooter was not privy to Shinji's unusual anatomy, and it saved his life.

Fresh gauze rests next to her, ready to redress the wound once she's satisfied with it. Her forceps press at the edge of her stitching in a final test.

"And lucky. What do you have to say for yourself?" Golden eyes elevate to the officers face in curiosity. Was the intel worth the disastrous brush with death?

Kouyasaki Megumi

VA: Chiwa Saitō

She is a high-ranking officer of the Twelfth Corps and a dedicated researcher in the Bureau of Technology Development. There, she works as the head of the department and studies swordsmanship. Her research has proven invaluable.

The feeling of dissatisfaction is mutual. Ryuken stares down this bride to be, noting how she seems to be as English as he is - just another foreign national caught up in this nonsense. She’s rather formal, he notes, reaching out tobacco stained fingers to pull the document to him, not unlike himself. Was this kind of thing considered when throwing people together? The idea of being matched on anything close to compatibility feels almost to competent for the ministry of magic. 

“Entitled?”

The word sticks out like a sore thumb, the word uttered with a hint of Germanic twang.He turns from the contract, to his bride and then to the official, searching for some kind of explanation. The secrecy unnerves him, although he does his damnedest not to show it, sitting back in his chair, then turning back to the document. What would it have mattered if either of them had known anything beforehand? If they were going to escape before this meeting, then knowing just who they were marrying would’ve made little difference to that. 

His eyes run over the document, noting how dry it is for what’s supposed to be a marriage. There’s nothing of note in there. No surprises, nothing to argue about, just expectations neatly laid out with all loopholes closed - a cage he’s expected to step into willingly or face the consequences. It’s so far removed from his first marriage it’s almost comical. 

“Megumi, yes?” 

He finally gives his bride to be some attention, scowling at the parchment as he checks for her name then turns from it and centres his gaze on her. This is about as much her fault as it his, and the gentleman in him, implores civility. There’s no need to take this out on her. It would be wise to start as they mean to go on, and introduction feel necessary. 

“My name is Ryuken” he catches her eye, extending a hand and trying his hardest to picture this woman as his spouse. His mind comes up blank, he just can’t see it “I’d rather we were meeting under happier circumstances” 

“E-hem.” The official interrupts, politely, but pointedly. “While your introduction is certainly important, you’re allotted appoint time is thirty minutes and I must insist that we begin. Mr. Ishida, if it pleases you,” she says in a way that implies that she very much doesn’t care if it pleases him at all, “sit.”

Megumi does not so much as flinch in her attention. Her own hand extended to grasp that of her future husband. That handshake is almost too polite to bare. “Megumi Kouyasaki. Excuse my bluntness, Mr. Ishida, however I would rather we never have need to meet at all.”

Her hand returns to her lap, and it’s only now that she rewards the official with her gaze. “We may begin now.”

“Wonderful.” The official deadpans. “To answer your earlier question, Mr. Ishida, as you will be stepping from this hour forth into marriage life, it is only fair and just that the both of you begin on equal standing. Any questions you have shall be asked as a pair, and answered in accordance with the laws and terms outlined in by the Marriage Act of 2023. If you would like to ask questions, you may now do so. The ceremony shall otherwise begin at fifteen past.”

Fifteen past. Megumi nearly rolls her eyes. No time at all, and they really were just expected to accept it.

The Marriage Act is not even an attempt at a romantic cover. No. It’s a breeding program. A disregard of human and women’s rights. It is foul, under ever classification. But of course, the Ministry already knows this, and naturally doesn’t care. She will not waste her time with those particular arguments. Appealing to the official is a waste of breath and time - but her betrothed might offer more clemency. She will have to see.

There was little room for manoeuvre here. 

The few days between the letter and the meeting were spent using what few resources Ryuken had trying to get out of this. Appeals were researched, Ryuken assuming there surely had to be some leniency for someone like him. He’d tried to do his part already. It wasn’t his fault they’d never reached the point of starting a family… 

Every plea fell on deaf ears. Owls were received, full of semi sincere apologies and waffle, that only served to make him more irritated. Nothing to be done. No exceptions to be made. Put up and shut up. Let the net close. He reconsidered  the idea of heading back to Germany again, although that idea died with the morning headlines two days before the meeting. The images of those with the same idea being rounded up at various ports and stations enough to assure him he wouldn’t get far. They seemed to have thought of everything, or at least sealed enough loopholes that getting out of it was impossible for someone like him. In hindsight, he knew he should have expected it. These were desperate times, and the ones behind this policy had already shown they weren’t approaching rationally. If only it didn’t damn him along with everyone else.

Ryuken approached the deadline with dread, booking the day off work and making his way into the very centre of London like a man approaching execution. He’d slept poorly, falling out of bed and into something half presentable before dragging himself to the nearest port key. Apparition would have been better, although in his current state it had felt unwise. He couldn’t bear the additional humiliation of becoming just another splicing case for work to deal with. Rain greeted him as he approached the office leaving him fed up and damp by the time he arrived, taking a seat and brushing wet hair out of his eyes, desperate to get this farce over with and get back home. 

He was collected soon enough and ushered through to a room already occupied by another. It took no time to put the pieces together. The woman looked about as pleased to be here as he did. So this is it, he thought, trying to piece together an opinion. She wasn’t what he would have chosen if given the chance, although he doubted the ministry cared about that. Manners implored him to offer a greeting and at least try to salvage whatever first impression his worn out and bedraggled visage had created. He knew it couldn’t be good. The sheer frustration at all of this made the words stick in his mouth. He just wanted to get this over with. 

“So” he took a seat, examining this possible bride over the rims of his glasses with a growing sense of injustice “I suppose this is it? Unless I’ve misunderstood, you’re here to tell me how this is all going to work”

Megumi arrives before her groom-to-be. If she can even use such a term, there will be no engagement period after all, no wedding, no honeymoon. They will simply sign their respective contracts and the marriage will be complete. Megumi has already read over the documents in question - iron clad as they are, whichever lawyer oversaw their drafting has ensured the highest care be taken to protect all individuals involved, from financial, emotional, and physical abuses - for loopholes, escape routes and other options.

Domestic violence should be a concern for serious consideration, the obvious escape for security reasons, but the penalty is severe, and the magic securities will ensure the protections from physical harms. It’s always astounded Megumi what magic can be asked to do, given the right incentive.

So she waits, eye to eye and unblinking, with the flustered ministry official scheduled to witness their marriage.

Fortunately it is not a long wait. Her chosen is a punctual man, and she is grateful for that. They would surely be as incompatible as oil and water if he were late. Everything else about him, however, left much to be desired.

The bags under his eyes are deep and purple, undisguised by the thin metal ribbing of his glasses. His shirt is haphazardly tucked, and his jacket is creates. His silver-blonde hair, too, is in modest disarray from his recent port-key trip. All in all, she’s unimpressed. A middle aged, overworked man, of German or perhaps Scandinavian descent.

She doesn’t recognize him as anyone of specific importance at first glance, but he is most certainly a pureblood of good lineage.

Her vivid red hair and Japanese features make for quite the contrast.

He's disoriented, but he knows that he's alive, or perhaps undead...maybe he's survived resuscitation, as the flat of his chest burns and everything aches.  

"Mmmm...rrr....rgh."

He attempts to speak but he's too groggy.  Full of drugs?   His regeneration abilities are stunted a bit, but they're working.  He's depleted, he knows, though he barely remembers anything outside of awakening.  But...he knows that eventually something must come to light.

Golden eyes flick open, bloodshot, but still beautiful in their feral way.  

He doesn't recognize the woman before him.  Longer red hair, a gaze that reminds him a bit of his own. Shinigami....

His dry mouth is beginning to be less so, and he clears his throat.  

"Are we ever truly awake?" he asks.  

Szayel may know nothing about where and how he is.  But his personality, heady like wine, is now settling him.  There must be something in this situation and environment that he can use.

"I have no memory of you, shinigami, but if I've been on the brink of death, perhaps that's to be expected."

“No, I wouldn’t expect you to.” She smiles, a bare curl of her lips in delicate symmetry.

She collects a bookmark from the little metal tray-table at the side of the arrancar’s bed at fits it neatly into the crease of her book. She closes it in her lap. None of her movements are hasty or imprecise.

It is the only thing other than her PPE that she carries on her. There is no need to bring a zanpakutō into such a contained location and provide him with a potential weapon after all. She doubts he’ll have an easy time using it, however, considering the lovely concoction of paralytics he’s being drip-fed.