Pharmaceutical Rewrite! Episode 4: The Shadows in the Snow
The Long Road Home
Three weeks.
That was how long it had been since the blackout turned the hospital into a grave of humming silence. Three weeks since the generators sputtered out, since the wards plunged into darkness and Marina had sent Akio away—"Go. Find the outposts. Distribute what you can. Don't let them die out there."
And so he went.
The road back was endless. His car, an aging black cruiser from the Ministry's forgotten fleet, wheezed and rattled like a coffin on wheels. The heater coughed lukewarm air, barely keeping frost from crawling across the inside of the windshield.
The world outside was a pale wasteland. Snow upon snow. Storm after storm. Forests stretched like skeletal hands frozen in mid-prayer, branches cracking beneath the weight of ice. Every village he passed was silent—windows boarded, chimneys cold. He left behind parcels of medicine, caches of antibiotics, the last vials of anti-asthma serums. Each drop was a lifeline, but also a reminder of scarcity.
Akio's eyes stayed on the road.
His body was tired. His mind, emptier than it had been in years. Not peace—peace was a luxury he no longer believed in. It was exhaustion, the hollow kind where even grief had burned itself out. The quiet in him was dangerous. Too quiet.
The car's radio was dead, the static broken only by the sound of tires crunching snow.
Until the crunch stopped.
The Stranger in the Road
There.
A figure.
Standing in the middle of the road.
Akio's body reacted before his mind did. He slammed the brakes. The tires shrieked, skidding against the ice. The car lurched violently, coming to a halt only meters away from the figure.
For a moment, Akio thought it was a hallucination. A trick of exhaustion.
But no.
The figure remained.
He wore a long black robe, fabric heavy and sodden, trailing across the snow like spilled ink. His head was bowed, but when he looked up, Akio's stomach tightened.
The face was young. Too young. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. Pale skin stretched tight, lips curled into a grin that was almost human—but too wide. Too deliberate.
And the eyes.
Twin points of red glow, unnatural, burning against the backdrop of falling snow.
Akio's breath caught. Instinct screamed. This was not a passerby. Not a lost child.
This was something else.
The figure smiled wider.
Then—movement behind him.
Another robed figure stepped out from the treeline, taller, shoulders broad as stone. He moved with mechanical precision, boots crunching against the snow in rhythm.
Blocked.
The road was blocked.
The Car Attack
Akio shifted into reverse.
Nothing.
The gearstick moved, but the car didn't respond. The dashboard flickered once, then died. All lights extinguished. The hum of the heater went silent. The car was a corpse.
Smoke hissed from the hood.
The first figure began walking toward him.
Slowly. Steadily. Each step deliberate, like a pendulum swinging in perfect time. The crunch of his boots against snow echoed too loudly, amplified by the emptiness of the woods.
He carried something in his hand.
A vial.
Glowing faintly blue. The liquid inside seemed alive, writhing with its own light.
The childs grin sharpened as he reached the car. Without hesitation, he smashed the vial against the grill.
Glass shattered. Liquid spread like a stain across the hood.
A pulse reverberated through the chassis—a low, throbbing hum that rattled Akio's bones. The cruiser shuddered, then went completely dark.
Akio's hand slid into his coat, fingers curling around the emergency stunner.
The kid tilted his head, watching. Then, with a casual strength that defied sense, he seized the driver's side door and ripped it off its hinges. Metal screeched. The door clattered into the snow.
The wind howled through the gap. Snow whipped across the seats.
Akio raised the stunner.
The kid leaned forward, his glowing eyes inches away.
"Don't bother," he said. His voice was light. Almost playful. A child speaking, but with something hollow beneath the tone. "I deleted my pain response last month. Reinforced the neurons. Stun all you want—I won't even flinch."
He tilted his head, revealing surgical incisions behind his ear. Fresh. Angry red.
"Name's Dr. Yatsumiya Uki," he said, smiling like it was a gift. "I'm your successor."
Introduction of the Twins
Akio stared at him. The word stuck in his throat.
"...Successor?"
The kid laughed. Not a sinister villain's laugh, but the genuine amusement of a teenager who'd just heard something stupid.
"You're the ghost doctor, right? The figure in the black coat. The one they whisper about—the savior, the curse, the one who couldn't die." His grin widened. "I read your journals. Your formulas. Even your regrets. And you know what I learned?"
He leaned closer, whispering like it was a secret.
"You failed beautifully."
Another voice drifted from behind the car. Smooth. Colder.
"He means that as a compliment."
The smaller figure now stepped into view, lowering his hood. His face was nearly identical, though sharper at the jaw, the eyes narrower. He had the same red glow, but it burned steadier, less wild.
"I'm Dr. Assistant, Bradzi Uki," he said, voice flat. "Yatsumiya's twin. Two years younger."
Akio's heart tightened. His knuckles whitened around the stunner.
"You're children."
"No," Yatsumiya said. His grin sharpened. "We're doctors. And we've surpassed you."
The Vial of Strength
Yatsumiya reached into his robe and pulled out another vial. This one glowed amber, its liquid thick and heavy, like molten gold.
Without hesitation, he opened it and swallowed the entire dose.
The change was immediate.
Not grotesque. Not monstrous. His body didn't swell with muscle, his bones didn't lengthen. Instead, the air itself seemed to sharpen around him. His stance shifted, every movement precise, honed. His eyes gleamed brighter, focused.
Electric tension radiated off him. Not strength of the body—but strength of the system.
"I enhanced motor function without hypertrophy," Yatsumiya said, flexing his fingers. His joints cracked like gunshots. "Clean. Efficient. A masterpiece. The ultimate hunter in the ultimate disguise."
Akio's hand trembled on the stunner. This wasn't a child. This wasn't human—not anymore.
The Warning
The silence stretched. Snow hissed down between them.
Akio's voice was steady when it came, though his heart hammered in his stomach.
"...Why are you here?"
Yatsumiya tilted his head. His grin never faltered.
"To warn you."
He crouched slightly, eyes burning red against the twilight.
"You're digging into ruins that should stay buried. Those vials you despise so much? That pathetic 'age-regression' formula? That was only the first step. A playground. A prototype. You're fighting a ghost war against scraps. The real work—our work—has already begun."
Bradzi's voice cut in, sharp as a blade.
"You saved people, Doctor. But we're rewriting them. Bone. Blood. Memory. Identity. We're not healing. We're redesigning."
Akio's jaw clenched. His voice came low, almost a growl.
"...Why tell me this?"
Yatsumiya's grin finally softened into something more dangerous.
"Because we want to see if you'll try to stop us. Or die trying."
He stepped back, the snow crunching under his boots.
Bradzi slipped something from his sleeve—a small detonator. He pressed it.
The car's engine roared back to life. The dashboard lights flickered on. The heater coughed weakly back into motion.
"We made improvements," Yatsumiya said lightly. "So you don't freeze to death out here. We need you alive. For now."
Aftermath
And then—silence.
The twins melted into the treeline, their black robes vanishing into the storm. The forest swallowed them, leaving no trace, no footprints in the snow.
Akio sat motionless in the driver's seat, his pulse hammering, breath fogging the glass. His hands gripped the wheel, knuckles bone-white.
The stunner lay on the passenger seat, useless.
The snow fell heavier now, covering the road, erasing the evidence of their presence. It was as if they had never been there.
The radio crackled to life. Marina's voice, thin with static, filled the cabin.
"Akio? Can you hear me? The grid's online again. Where are you?"
He stared into the white expanse ahead. His throat was dry. His mind replayed the red glow of those eyes, the words—I'm your successor.
Finally, he pressed the receiver.
"...We're not alone out here anymore."
TO BE CONTINUED...