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The royal summons arrived on a Tuesday.
Doctor Mitarai Akisaburo, the addressee, demurred and scoffed and dutifully performed the socially mandated rituals, but secretly, he was pleased that the invitation had been sent to his office rather than his home. It was rather serendipitous that the whole hospital was abuzz with his latest triumph and for once he hadn’t even needed to plant the seeds himself.
With more than twenty-five years as an esteemed Director of Neuroscience at the University of Tokyo Hospital, his CV was pages upon pages of achievements and accolades. A royal commendation from Neo Queen Serenity would be the cherry atop a long and decorated career.
And so, on Saturday morning he left his home wearing a smirk and the tuxedo usually reserved for hospital benefits.
The downside to a well-funded and established public transportation infrastructure, he mused as he stepped onto the CT Monorail, was that it just didn’t have the same celebratory pomp as something like a town car or limousine.
Of course, this was an opinion he’d never express out loud. The expansion of the monorail shortly after Neo Queen Serenity had risen to power was overwhelmingly considered a public good – even if he found it a bit underwhelming on days like today. Not to mention the walks to and from the stations – though short – were far from ideal on a 35°C afternoon when one was clad in evening wear.
He arrived at the palace only mildly dripping sweat; he considered excusing himself to the bathrooms, but one of the palace staff was waiting in the atrium with a hand towel embroidered with the royal seal and a glass of water.
Slightly mollified by the consideration, he mopped his brow and drained the glass.
“Please feel free to take a seat,” the staff member said. “Her Royal Highness is finishing some business, but she will be with you as soon as she is able.”
Akisaburo’s eyebrow went up slightly. The invitation had said 13:00 sharp, but he supposed he’d been to many events that began a few minutes late. Even so, he’d expect a queen of all people to have a tighter control of her schedule.
Regardless, he took a seat – there was little else he could do.
Thirty minutes later, he was still waiting.
Flagging down the nearest attendant, he narrowly refrained from crossing his arms like a child. “Are you quite sure Neo Queen Serenity is still occupied? The invitation I received was for a specific time,” he said, tone more cutting than he usually permitted in public.
“Yes, sir,” the staff member said, tone apologetic. “But please, do not worry; I have been assured that I will receive word as soon as she is ready for you.”
Another fifteen minutes ticked by, and Akisaburo crossed from mild annoyance into outright indignance. She may be a queen, he thought bitterly, But she has no right to waste other people’s time like this.
Watching the seconds tick by on his watch, Akisaburo began to seriously consider leaving. He had other things he could be doing with his Saturday besides sitting around waiting for Neo Queen Serenity to deign to honor her appointments. However, leaving would likely ruin his chances for a commendation and, for all he knew, there might be legal consequences for standing up royalty.
Akisaburo had no choice but to sit. And wait.
It wasn’t long before he stopped bothering trying to refrain from tapping his feet with irritation.
At 14:00, the staff member he’d first spoken to finally poked her head around the corner.
“Mitarai-sensei? Neo Queen Serenity-sama is ready to receive you now.”
Standing with a huff, Akisaburo checked his tuxedo, annoyed to realize that his prolonged period of sitting after the walk in the hot summer air had ironed creases into the fabric.
Fucking perfect. But there was no help for it now.
A cumulonimbus brewing over his head, he blew past the ponytailed attendant. Only his decades of social etiquette training stopped him from flatly stomping his way into the enormous reception hall and giving this queen a piece of his mind.
When he passed through the doorway, however, the storm clouds dissipated in shock – the reception hall was more full than the last hospital benefit he’d attended. Hundreds of people, all bedecked in similar finery to him, stood along either side of the walkway down the center of the room.
His mouth curving into an automatic polite smile, Akisaburo nodded respectfully as he walked down the aisle. He passed face after face he recognized primarily from media coverage – Ikeda-sensei, the Chief of Medicine from Hiroo Hospital; Hayashi-sensei, the Minister of Health for Japan; and even Mizuno-sensei, the slight pediatrician who Neo Queen Serenity had appointed as her Surgeon General – all here to witness his audience with the queen.
Of course, it was still unacceptable that Neo Queen Serenity had left him waiting for an hour, but he felt much more inclined to be magnanimous about it given this turn of events.
Reaching the dais where the queen oversaw the space from a resplendent throne, Akisaburo momentarily considered performing a dogeza, but… she had kept him waiting. After a moment’s hesitation, he bowed stiffly. “Your Majesty.”
“Welcome, Mitarai-sensei,” Neo Queen Serenity said in a warm voice. “Thank you for coming today.”
Straightening his back, he nodded up to her. “It is my pleasure to be invited.”
“I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
He shook his head. “No, not at all, Your Highness.”
She smiled. “That’s good to hear. Now.” She glanced to an attendant standing on the platform next to her, and the dark-haired woman quickly began shuffling through a stack of folders. “I imagine you’re wondering why I’ve asked you to come here today.”
Again, he shook his head. “I am not so brazen as to question my queen.”
An approving murmur sounded around him, and he held in a pleased smile. With any luck, not only would this commendation serve as a professional victory lap, it would also provide a priceless networking opportunity.
“I called this audience,” the queen continued with a slow nod, “To discuss your career. You see, a specific topic has come to my attention.” Balancing a pair of eyeglasses on her nose, the queen held out a hand, and a sheaf of papers were presented to her. Eyes scanning the top page, she then looked back up at him. “In 1999, you were assigned a student to supervise as he completed medical school – Chiba Mamoru. Do you remember this student?”
Huh? Akisaburo cast his mind about, bewildered. A student he’d mentored more than two decades ago couldn’t possibly be relevant to this meeting. Not to mention, he’d mentored countless students over the years – it was an unfortunate part of working in a prestigious teaching hospital. Generally, he preferred to focus on his own work, and expected his students to minimize any unnecessary demands on his time. Over the years, he’d streamlined the routine down, and had reached a point where he rarely had to see most of them – unless it was a required routine evaluation or they were about to kill someone.
He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, Your Highness. Nineteen-ninety-nine was a long time ago. Has this… Did this former student do something particularly noteworthy?”
She flipped a paper in the stack. “I’m curious, Mitarai-sensei. My Surgeon General, Mizuno Ami, recently came across a journal article you published: Memory and the hippocampal formation following pediatric traumatic brain injury. Based on publication records, it appears you co-authored this paper with Matsumoto Akane from the University of Tokyo.”
He nodded, swelling a bit with pride. He was much more comfortable discussing his own achievements than trying to recall his past mentees, and that paper had been critical in the lead up to his promotion to Director of Neuroscience.
“However,” Neo Queen Serenity lowered the stack of papers, an eyebrow arching up over the rim of her eyeglasses. “I have it on good authority that your former student, Chiba Mamoru, not only made significant contributions to this paper, but originated the ideas behind the research.”
The murmur in the room did not sound quite so approving this time.
“Can you explain to me, Mitarai-sensei, why it is that Chiba-san was not mentioned whatsoever? Not in the acknowledgements section, and certainly not in the authorship?”
His skin went chill. It had long been his policy that any work performed by his students was considered to be proprietary. After all, he was taking time away from his own research to focus on their education and interests – the least they could do in return was allow him to borrow anything that might advance his own career.
Of course, he was not about to admit that in front of the entire medical world, not to mention the Queen of the Earth.
“I-I don’t remember this Chiba Mamoru at all,” he hedged. “And I don’t recall collaborating with him professionally over the last twenty years, either. What makes you so certain that he’s a reliable source of information? It seems to me that this is most likely some disgruntled individual who couldn’t sustain his career and is now trying to tear down the professional reputations of those who could.”
Her lips quirked slightly. “It’s… understandable that you wouldn’t have knowledge of a practicing Dr. Chiba Mamoru. According to my sources, he married shortly after graduating medical school, and he used his wife’s name professionally.”
Akisaburo sniffed. “Even so, that hardly proves the veracity of his account. With all due respect, Neo Queen Serenity-sama, I must object to this public slander against my professional reputation without any evidence.”
“Oh yes, I did think that might become an issue. Fortunately, I have located firsthand accounts from his wife.” She glanced up at the dark-haired attendant again. “Hino-san, if you please.”
The attendant cleared her throat, opening a pink bejeweled book, and beginning to read: “Twenty-first of April, 1999. Mamo-chan was assigned this year’s mentor at the hospital today. He’s hoping for the best, but I don’t know. Apparently at their first sit down, the guy told him to ‘stay out of my way if you know what’s good for you’ – and that was exactly how Mamo-chan said it, so I bet it was actually much meaner in person. Maybe it’ll all be okay, but I’m worried.
“Third of May, 1999. Mamo-chan was an hour and a half late for our date. He had to meet with his mentor at the end of his shift, and the guy left him sitting outside his office for over an hour because he was ‘in the middle of something.’ That’s so rude, who does that?!?”
Akisaburo narrowly suppressed a snort that the queen would think to hold such a thing against him, when she did the same thing to her own visitors.
“Tenth of June, 1999. Mamo-chan didn’t get home until midnight last night, on top of an 18-hour shift. His mentor apparently ‘forgot’ about him and he was stuck waiting for three hours before he finally showed up for their meeting. I told him to ask the hospital chief for a new mentor, but he says that’s not how it’s done. I think that’s crap, nobody should be able to get away with abusing my Mamo-chan like this.
“Fourteenth of July, 1999. Good news, I think? Mamo-chan’s mentor is apparently showing an interest in his research in childhood brain trauma – so far, he’s mostly only been able to get something he calls ‘secondhand data’” The attendant cleared her throat. “This is how it was written, though the correct term, we’d like to clarify, is ‘secondary data.’”
Neo Queen Serenity nodded her approval. “Thank you. Please continue.”
“Apparently his mentor thinks that if they incorporate some primate data – she means ‘primary’ – and conduct neuroscans on children who have had actual brain injuries, they can probably write an important publication that will help a lot of people recover. So they’re going to work on that over the summer break and into the Fall term. Which… I’m so excited for Mamo-chan, I know this is his dream!! But I still wish he’d ask for a different mentor. I don’t trust this guy, and he was late getting home again tonight.
“Fifth of December, 1999. I am LIVID. I am BOILING. Mamo-chan has been working like crazy on this paper – he spent all summer doing research and he’s been so busy revising drafts that we haven’t even had sex in three weeks!! – and now his mentor is stealing it. He’s publishing it in his own name and Mamo-chan isn’t even getting a word of credit. There isn’t an appeals process or anything, even though Mamo-chan is the one with all the draft copies, not his mentor. Mamo-chan is crushed, but he still says he’s glad the paper will get out there, because it will help people.
“I told him I’m proud of him for having such a positive attitude, but the truth is, that’s crap.
“I promise, I’m going to make that man pay. His name is Mitarai Akisaburo and he works at University of Tokyo Hospital and I swear to god, once I’m powerful enough, I’m going to track down this guy and make him regret everything he’s done to Mamo-chan. It’s not right that someone gets to exploit him and he can’t do anything about it just because they’re the bigger name. No, someday I will expose that man as the exploitative fraud he is and make sure this never happens to anyone else ever again.” The dark-haired attendant looked to Neo Queen Serenity again, folding the book shut.
There was a silence in the hall, broken when Akisaburo finally cleared his throat. “I must object, Your Highness. These read like diary entries written by a teenager with no knowledge of medicine. Not to mention, the woman is openly vowing revenge against me. This is clearly biased and shouldn’t be considered as supporting evidence.”
The queen’s eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Per her last entry, we were also able to obtain fifteen draft copies of the final paper.”
“Easy to forge,” he said dismissively. “It proves nothing, other than that someone had access to a copy of the final paper and a word processing tool.”
The dark-haired attendant again cleared her throat. “So, to be clear, your counterevidence is the claim that Chiba Mamoru and his wife are both liars.”
A shiver ran down his spine at her tone but, backed against a wall… What else could he do?
“Yes, I believe this to be an unjust smear campaign. As a successful professional, I’m being targeted by a disgruntled pair of liars with nothing better to do.”
The queen released an extremely unregal snort.
Akisaburo’s head jerked to stare at Neo Queen Serenity as the attendant put her hands together. “I would consider that to be more than sufficient evidence for slander against the crown,” she said. She turned slightly to make eye contact with another attendant – this one blonde. “What do you think? Should we lock him up for that?”
Indignation spread through him – How dare an attendant speak out against him like that? – and he whirled back to glare at the attendants as the blonde said “I still say we should bring back the stocks. I mean, some situations clearly call for it.”
“Aino-san, Hino-san,” Neo Queen Serenity raised a hand with a shake of her head. “You know I treasure your opinions as my Heads of Security, but I think this is already more than enough in terms of public spectacle.”
That initial chill on his skin seeped down into his bones. Heads of… What?
The queen turned her gaze, now withering instead of warm, back to him. “You should know, Mitarai-sensei, that the name Chiba Mamoru practiced under was Tsukino Mamoru. He was a respected specialist in pediatric brain injury using methods pioneered in your paper until other important commitments made continuing his practice infeasible, and I watched him write all fifteen of those drafts you were so quick to dismiss as forgeries.”
She paused, seeming to savor the look of dawning horror Akisaburo could feel spreading across his face.
“Yes,” she said, carefully removing her reading glasses, “Those diary entries were mine, written when I was eighteen and engaged to a medical student with a terrible, terrible mentor. All he wanted to do was make the world a better place, and you treated him as an annoyance. You belittled him, you took credit for his research, you accused him of lying to cover it up, and you never made a fresh pot of coffee after you took the last of it. You made his life hell, because it made you feel more important.”
Aino-san and Hino-san exchanged pointed glances. Akisaburo couldn’t bring himself to look around the room and gauge how he was coming across to the rest of the crowd – though he imagined it was not well.
“And I promised myself then, and I intend to live up to that promise now, that I would make sure this would never happen again.”
Neo Queen Serenity raised herself from her throne, her sumptuous white gown pooling around her on the floor.
“Which is why I’ve summoned you all here today,” she said, spreading her hands and addressing the crowd directly for the first time since Akisaburo had entered. “To witness the official pronouncement of the Chiba Mamoru Excellence in Educational Reform Program. From now on, a degree alone will not be considered sufficient evidence of suitability to mentor students. Rather, mentoring programs will be audited at random to ensure that mentors are providing acceptable support to their students, rather than the other way around. Any mentors who are found to be providing inadequate support will be enrolled in a ten week supplemental mentor training curriculum and be required to pass a test to resume their practice. However.”
The queen looked down her nose at Akisaburo, the look in her eyes urging him to shrink away from her. “Those who fail their audits more than once in a ten year period, or any mentors found to be exploiting their students in any way, will be immediately stripped of all professional credentials and be required to recomplete all their licensure if they wish to continue their professional career. Once they have recertified, should they choose to do so, then they will be required to also complete the ten week supplemental mentor training curriculum.”
Akisaburo’s eyes widened. The exams alone to certify as a doctor were grueling, but the qualifications for licensure – repeating residency and passing the board – would take a minimum of a year to do over. Such penalties were not for the faint of heart.
“There will be no limit to the number of times a prospective mentor can go through either of these processes,” continued Neo Queen Serenity, “Nor will these reforms be limited only to the medical field. All mentoring programs will be subject to such random audit, in perpetuity.”
She looked out at the crowd, her eyes fierce. “No one who wants to learn deserves to be made to feel stupid. No one deserves to be made to feel less-than because they’re just starting out. And from now on, we will make sure that no one will.”
Cameras flashed from the back of the room, capturing this historic moment, and Akisaburo inwardly cringed; he hadn’t realized that the press was here, too.
“Mitarai-sensei… or, as it stands, Mitarai-san, you shall have the honor of being the first person stripped of your credentials, due to a clear case of exploitation and a refusal to admit to your own wrongdoing. This means that until you have retaken all of your licensing exams, passed the medical board, and redone your residency under the supervision of a qualified physician, you will not be permitted to practice medicine without direct oversight by a licensed physician, nor will you be allowed to conduct any research. Fortunately,” This time, the quirk of her lips looked mocking. “All the relevant people in your field have been informed of your situation, so you can go right ahead and focus your attention on studying.”
His ears ringing with shame, Akisaburo watched the queen field several questions from doctor and reporter alike before Aino-san and Hino-san escorted her backstage, making claims of some other appointment. The crowd continued to mill around Akisaburo, but no one spoke to him. No one even acknowledged him, beyond stepping around him.
Rather than serve as the expected cherry atop the sundae of his career, this meeting had curdled his professional reputation, leaving him with no one else to point at, no more excuses to hide behind.
He only had himself to blame.
As Akisaburo slunk home that evening, not sure if at this point in his career he even had the energy to sit for his qualifying exams again, Tsukino Usagi set a ‘borrowed’ pair of reading glasses down on her husband’s bedside table.
“So,” came a voice from behind her, “What’ve you been up to today?”
She looked up with a guilty grin, finding Mamo-chan with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the doorframe of their bedroom.
“Nothing much,” she deflected, hiding her hands behind her back.
“I heard that you called a press conference,” he said conversationally. “Anything your king ought to know about?”
“Mm,” she hummed. “I passed some of those educational reforms I discussed with Ami-chan. You know, based on those horrible experiences you had in med school?”
His eyebrow arched up. “Usako, you didn’t go after Mitarai-sensei, did you? I told you, I took your advice and decided to be the bigger person.”
Behind her back, she crossed her fingers. “Of course not, Mamo-chan. In fact, I totally agree with you. Sometimes, you really do need to be the bigger person.”
Seemingly satisfied, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, stepping into their en suite bathroom to begin to get ready for bed.
As he left, Usagi grinned mischievously at herself in her vanity mirror.
She certainly didn’t endorse it, and she would never want to get used to that level of power, but… just this once, she was totally okay with being the bigger person – and making sure Mitarai Akisaburo knew it.