It was the afternoon of a gorgeous fall day, but to the three 
people standing in the room off of the Intensive Care Unit, it felt 
more like the dark of winter.  Over the past month many a meeting 
had happened between these three people.  Sometimes there were more 
people involved in the meeting, sometimes less.  Regardless, since 
that awful accident almost thirty days ago, these three had often 
been in conversation.

	Dr. Alistair Blake room had limited this conversation to the 
two people standing in front of him because he knew it would be 
delicate.  Legally, he could not make the decisions that needed to 
made with out the consent of the two people in front of him, who 
were the parents of his patient; however, if he had included the 
patient's three siblings, he would have had to include the patient's 
living grandparents as well.  That would be at least an extra six 
people in the room...and that was before dealing with the requests 
of aunts, uncles, and close family friends to be included.

	Normally, he would be moved and motivated by the obvious 
loving family of this patient.  Okay, normally, he’d still be a 
little annoyed, but, in this special case at least, the family’s 
motivation got in the way of him doing his job.  That just gave 
the doctor a headache.

	"It's been almost twenty seven days and there still has 
not been any change since the accident.  You may," here Dr. 
Blake paused, knowing the awful alternative he was about to 
deliver.  "You may want to consider removing the life support."

	"No!" the mother immediately shouted.  "That's my son 
in there!  I won't give up on him.  Not yet!  He'll pull through," 
she insisted.

	"Mrs. Ikeda-" the doctor began.

	"That's Dr. Washington-Ikeda to you," the woman 
immediately corrected the middle-aged specialist.

	Alistair sighed mentally for about the fortieth time 
that week.  It wasn't that Dr. Washington-Ikeda wasn't a nice 
woman or a good person.  Normally, she was, according to the 
hospital staff.  In fact, she was more gracious and generous 
to the nurses and other underlings than most mothers in her 
situation.  But she was a lioness when she fought for her 
children, and she would use every advantage at her disposal 
to get the best for them, including using the title that her 
PhD in Political Science afforded her.  Her eldest child was 
just as bad, using his money and business reputation the way 
his mother used her title and academic reputation.  For his 
part, the academic’s husband was a patient and strong man, 
but also a man who would do whatever he could to protect 
and keep his family happy.  Not a nice combination in 
situations such as these.

	"Dr. Washington-Ikeda, Mr. Ikeda," the doctor tried 
again, "it is likely that he won't survive the week.  But, 
even if for some reason he does, his brain was oxygen-deprived 
for an extended period of time.  He'll probably have amnesia 
or suffer from delusions or any number of mental defects.  
There is no telling if he'll even be able to speak or walk.  
That is a huge burden to take on-"

	"But I'm not giving up on my son!  Are you suggesting 
we kill him now on the off chance that he survives and is 
handicapped?!" the mother's voice broke slightly, but she tried 
to continue.   "What kind of sick-" was all she managed to get 
out before she choked on her tears and buried her head on her 
husband's shoulder.

	The father eyes had narrowed at the doctor's speech as 
well.  "That is my son," he said in a quiet, measured, and 
angry voice. "We will do whatever we have to keep him healthy 
and happy, especially if God gives him back to us.  Don't presume 
to tell us to give up now."

	"But your other children-" Dr. Blake began.

	Only to be cut off by the man, "Are not spares.  They love 
their brother, too.  This family isn't throwing in the towel, not 
yet.  You're stuck with us for a little longer."

	Alistair nodded as he closed his patient's folder.  To 
be honest, he didn't like it.  The young man was pretty much a 
lost cause when he came through the door.  But his parents 
insisted, so there was nothing that could be done.  It was nice 
when Blake could try various treatments that, if they worked, 
would have gotten him published.  But now, with almost a month 
of no change, he was ready to move on.  But this family…well, 
there ought to laws against that kind of stubbornness.

	As Dr. Blake quietly left the room as Mr. Ikeda tried to 
comfort his wife, he thought that if, by some miracle, the young 
man did pull through, Andrew Yusuke Ikeda was one amazingly lucky 
young man to have a family like his.

This Side of Living
Chapter 1 - Back in the Living

	Some people come back to conscious quickly, or at least, 
more of their senses come back immediately.  This young man, 
unfortunately, wasn't that lucky; his process was gradual.  
As he became aware of the world outside of himself, the first 
thing he felt was immense pain.  The kind of pain that made 
being thrown around by Toguro seem like a paper cut it comparison.  
What had happened?

	After the pain, the ability to hear returned.  But that 
managed to confuse him more.  There were clearly other people or 
other things around him.  If he strained a little he could just 
hear the conversation around him.

	"You've been here all day.  Take a little break.  I'll 
sit here awhile," he heard Koenma say.

	That the toddler was around was strange, especially since 
it sounded as if he was in his teenage form, with an even deeper 
voice.  It was also strange that the toddler wasn’t speaking in 
Japanese, and that Yusuke clearly understood the English this 
Koenma uttered, as Urameshi Yusuke didn’t excel in school, much 
less foreign languages.   But what was stranger was who replied 
to the prince of the Spirit World.

	"Alright.  You win.  I'll go down to the cafeteria and 
get something to eat," said the voice of a female who sounded 
like the first referee of the Dark Tournament.  What was her 
name?  Kota?  Koto?  And, more importantly, why was she watching 
him and why did Koenma tell her to take a break?  Something 
really wasn't right here.

	He heard rustling as if someone was getting up.  "Are 
you sure he'll be okay while I'm gone?" the Koto asked again.

	"Yes.  I promise to send a nurse to find you if something 
happens." Koenma confirmed. 

	"Okay," Koto’s voice came one more time before he heard 
heels click on the floor, moving further and further away from him.

	That odd conversation was definitely motivation for the 
sleeping young man to do something.  Luckily, at that moment, 
the ability to move was regained, so he was able to move his 
hand slightly and begin to open his eyes.  Although he wished 
to move more, the pain shortchanged his movements.

	Those movements were enough however to get the attention 
of the man next to the bed.  Lying flat on his back, he heard 
the frantic movements of the other person in the room, but he 
couldn't clearly see them yet.  The bright lights and his eyes 
didn't seem to be too happy with each other.    

	As he blinked, he heard Koenma say, "Andrew?  Andrew, 
are you awake?"

	While his brain tried to wrap itself around a very strange 
name, his eyes finally began to focus.  The person leaning over 
the bed appearing to be very concerned about him was indeed Koenma, 
but a much older looking one.  This man looked to be at least thirty 
years older than Koenma's teenage form.  He also looked stressed, 
his brown hair in total disarray and streaked with gray.  Although 
he had often made nasty comments about Koenma's appearance in the 
past, seeing a clearly older Koenma was extremely disconcerting.

	His silent stare seemed to upset this old Koenma greatly.  
As he heard fast moving feet in the distance, Koenma asked again, 
"Andrew? Drew, can you understand me?  Can you speak at all?"

	Finally, after all this time, the ability to speak finally 
returned.  Slowing forcing the words out of a dry throat and 
around a tube, the young man in the hospital bed began to croak 
out, "Who-?"

	He didn't get much further.  At that moment, while Koenma 
seemed to be thanking something called 'God' under his breath, a 
clatter of heels was heard and that Dark Tournament announcer's 
voice was heard again, "Andrew?  Mitsuru, is something happening 
to Andrew?"

	Straining to see from his bed, all he could make out was 
one female, who seemed to be surrounded by a sea of white.  She 
was a startlingly a darker hue that he expected, but he couldn't 
see anything clearly that was more than five feet anyway.  If 
anything, the little he could see bothered him greatly.

	Fixing his most intense stare (he hoped) on Koenma, he 
forced out again, "Who...is...Andrew?" in a whispered tone, more 
than a little shocked that his request came out in English.

	The older Koenma blinked down at him.  "Um...you are," 
he said quietly.

	At that point the sixteen year old's brain went 
crazy.  Inside his head, he was shouting, "WHAT?!  HAS 
PACIFER-BREATH REALLY LOST IT?!  I'M WHO?!! WHAT'S GOING ON?  
WHAT KIND OF CRAP IS HE TRYING TO PULL?  WHERE THE HELL AM I 
AND WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON!!!"

	All the young man managed to croak out, before having 
to close his eyes because of all of the bright lights, was, 
"What the hell is this?"

- to be continued -