Takeshi

The Prequel Chronicles

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Takeshi

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Aged 6

‘Just close your eyes, Takeshi’.‘I don’t like the dark though, Daddy’.‘Just trust me’.

The boy closed his eyes and he breathed a sigh of relief. Hitomu Sato looked down at his son as he lay peacefully on the table. He’d covered it with blankets and padding, as if the comforting layers might disguise the cold metal surface beneath.

For a change, the air in the laboratory was warm. Hitomu rarely bothered with the heating. He never felt the need for it, always too engrossed in his work to feel the chill in the air. But he knew that Takeshi would complain. The boy was sensitive. Not just to the cold but generally.

I could fix that, Hitomu considered fleetingly. And why the boy was complaining about the dark when his

eyes were close, Hitomu did not understand. With his eyes open, Takeshi’s surroundings were still smothered in darkness. Hitomu could hardly stand to have too much light in his laboratory. He much preferred the ominous blue glow from the machinery and the hum of electricity was so much more mystifying in the dark.

‘Daddy, I want to go and play’. Takeshi’s eyes were open once again: big, brown, chocolate orbs staring up at him.

Hitomu let go of the pads which he’d been about to attach to Takeshi’s temples and instead ran a reassuring finger through the young boys hair. It was thin and slick beneath his skin. It

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suddenly struck Hitomu that it was unclean, greasy. His wife would have a fit if she were to see. Hitomu made a quick mental note to ensure the boy washed before his mother returned from her trip.

‘I know you do’ Hitomu whispered soothingly. ‘But you want to be clever too, don’t you? Just like you’re Daddy’.

Takeshi chewed his lip but nodded. His eyelids fluttered, as delicate as butterflies, as they closed once more.

Hitomu smiled and took hold of the sensor pads once more. ‘But Daddy…’ Takeshi opened his eyes again. ‘It hurt last

time, and you told me it wouldn’t hurt’.Hitomu exhaled slowly through his nose. ‘Son, I would never

want to hurt you’ he said gently. He heard himself saying the words but didn’t feel a single one of them. The concerns of his son, the pain in his voice. Those things should have cut right to his core. But he felt nothing.

I love my son, he told himself. I do, he insisted as he attached the probes to Takeshi’s temples. As he turned his back on his son and reached for his computer, his inner turmoil continued. I’m safeguarding my future. His future, Hitomu maintained.

Behind him, on the table, the injection which Hitomu had given Takeshi started to work. This time, he had ensured that his son would feel no pain; he would be sedated.

‘It’s not an experiment’ Hitomu told his wife’s voice as it echoed through his mind. Now that his son was unconscious, it didn’t bother him to talk aloud to himself. It could often be just his own company for days on end when he was tucked away in the

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lab. ‘An experiment is when you don’t know what you’re doing’ he mumbled, entering a string of code into the computer. To almost anyone else, it was nonsensical. But Hitomu could read it almost as well as English. If not better. ‘And I know exactly what I’m doing’.

Now that Takeshi was sedated, Hitomu could attach some of the more delicate and invasive probes to his head. The first time it had been painful. Takeshi’s mother had been away for an extended period at the time, so the boy’s recovery went unnoticed. Now, reopening the old wounds was no more painful than a small pinprick, and the boy didn’t ever complain.

I could erase his pain, Hitomu pondered. The desire to take total control was almost overwhelming. By nature, he’d already made a son. But by his own hand, he was capable of creating something…better.

‘Stop it’. Hitomu reprimanded the thoughts before they could come to fruition. He was already meddling enough. He didn’t want to risk genuine mutation and disability just to satisfy his desires. There was a fine line between perfection and imperfection; it was all too easy to taint something flawless. Not that his son was flawless. That would be too obvious, Hitomu had realised from early on in his series of experiments.

With a bit of resistance, the final probe breach Takeshi’s skull at the temple, and the setup was complete. Hitomu took a step back and breathed a small sigh of relief. The probe had been close to breaking against the boy’s skull; so fragile was the needle. It would have been expensive to replace.

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The computer behind him suddenly came to life. The electrical impulses from Takeshi’s brain travelled the length of the wires across the room and began to stream information into the machine. From there, through heavy encoding and other tricky processes, Hitomu could influence the boy’s brain.

A door slammed somewhere in the house. Hitomu’s stomach plummeted. Bile rose up in his throat, the ever-faithful companion of guilt.

‘Hitomu! Takeshi!’ the voice called. His wife’s voice.Hitomu scrambled to shut down the computer, to safely stop

the flow of impulses from Takeshi’s brain to the machine. His fingers almost couldn’t move fast enough over the touch screen.

‘Hitomu!?’ his wife called again. He could hear the curiosity rising in her voice. How long would it be before she thought to check the lab? Probably not long. She rarely trusted him these days.

Hitomu gave the boy a quick look over. The machine was detached now, though the probes were still attached to his temples. His pulse was slow; a gentle rhythm. He would be fine.

Before he could be discovered, Hitomu bolted up the stairs and arrived at the back of the kitchen. His laboratory was below ground level, entombed in the dark confines of the basement.

‘My darling tsuma’ he beamed, holding his arms open wide as his wife entered the kitchen. She looked at him warily, shopping bags draped over her arms as if they too were a fashion accessory, and not just the clothes within. ‘How was your trip?’

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‘Good thank you’ Aiko replied. She set the bags down on the counter and brushed down her cream suit. The skirt was ironed to perfection and sat perfectly at the knee. The matching jacket hugged her thin waist tightly, giving her a subtle hour glass figure. ‘Where is Takeshi?’

Why was she always so damn insistent on knowing where the boy was all the time? Hitomu studied her discreetly as she unpacked the bags. She appeared to be acting normal enough. Though Hitomu did always have a tough time reading her.

‘At his friends. Hiro’s mother invited him to dinner’.Aiko froze. Her hand was poised over a small bag of

groceries; halfway towards the vegetables she was unpacking. She stared at him, her eyes fixing on him like the aim of a well-trained sniper.

Then suddenly she was moving. Hurtling towards him like an athlete. Hitomu flinched away from her, but Aiko was not interested in him. She flew past him to the laboratory door.

‘No, Aiko!’ Hitomu boomed. ‘You cannot go in there!’But there door was open and Aiko was nothing more than a

shadow in the dull, blue light.‘I was just with Hiro’s mother! You liar!’ Aiko shouted. Bile. Bile and guilt. Again. Hitomu swallowed heavily and

forced himself to follow.Aiko was beside the surgical table, her hands on either side

of her face wearing a look of pure horror.‘Get this off of him!’ Aiko shrieked. Her hands were

trembling – with fear or rage Hitomu did not know. ‘Get it off, Hitomu!’

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She ran up to him and pounded her tiny fists on his chest. Aiko was such a tiny woman, so petit that she was entirely unthreatening. That is if you were foolish enough to judge her purely on her appearance. Hitomu was tall and slender. Aiko had to reach up in order to deliver her desperate blows. Yet still he cowered, for he knew what she was truly capable of.

‘Okay, okay’ Hitomu ushered, pushing her gently away. He bent over his son and slowly removed the probes whilst wishing he felt something more than just disappointment at his failed work. ‘There, it is over now’.

Aiko shoved him aside and almost toppled him. She was sobbing heavily and grabbing Takeshi up into her arms. ‘It is never over with you, Hitomu’ she scorned. ‘Always more. Nothing is ever enough for you’.

‘I’m sorry, Aiko’ Hitomu said, reaching out to touch his wife. She flinched away from him, cradling Takeshi in her arms as he continued to sleep.

‘You’re just sorry you got caught’ Aiko told him angrily. Hot tears spilled down her face. Her usually stiff lips trembled. She pushed past him and stormed up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Hitomu watched longingly as his work was taken away from him. He dropped onto a stool and put his head in his hands. Why can she not see? He asked himself, over and over. Why can she not see that I am trying to do good?

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Aged 7Aiko tried to squeeze her eyes shut but it was as if tiny,

microscopic men kept her eyelids open. Of course, that was ridiculous. What kept her eyes open and her mind awake was a troublesome mix of emotions. Everything from fear and anxiety, from guilt to the smallest sense of euphoria was rattling around her brain like a raging, rabid rodent. Up and down, side-to-side…up and down. Each different emotion rattling inside her, each one taking its turn to take hold of her.

She drew in a deep, long breath and slowly turned her head on the pillow. Before she had finished her intake of her she stopped. The breath held in her lungs. It started to burn. Her chest seemed to tighten. At the last second she exhaled angrily all over the empty pillow beside her.

Hitomu was gone. Aiko cursed. She must have fallen asleep at some point during the night. There’s no way Hitomu could have got up without her knowing…if she had been awake.

Aiko threw back the overs and leapt out of bed. The wooden floor was perilously cold, as the winter air gripped the quiet mountain village of Hinohara. Not even the thick swathes of trees all around their remote, woodland home could keep the suffocating cold at bay.

From the wardrobe she picked her warmest clothes and dressed quickly in silence. Her heart pounded like a caged animal, desperate to escape. Aiko almost couldn’t breathe. Her

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heartbeat was rising in her throat, as if she was suffocating from the inside.

Finally, once dressed in as many layers as she could comfortably wear, Aiko rummaged at the back of the wardrobe for the small suitcase she had packed four months ago. It contained money, passports and enough clothes to last her and Takeshi a couple of days. There was nothing in the case for Hitomu. There had, until recently, been a farewell letter, explaining what was to be the sudden absence of his wife and child. But just five days ago she had overheard a phone call that had made her withdraw the gesture.

‘Aiko is going on a trip mid-December’ she had heard Hitomu tell the unidentifiable caller. ‘I intend to begin the final phase of our work then. She will be gone for three days; this should be enough time to complete’.

She had stumbled and almost fallen down the stairs in horror at what she had heard. After Hitomu promised her to stop, it appeared he had only continued experimenting on Takeshi. She couldn’t say that she was surprised, though there had been part of her – her foolish heart, no doubt – that had wanted to trust Hitomu. And so she had. And so she had been betrayed.

‘No’, the phone call had gone on. ‘I don’t feel there is need for you to join me here. Once the final phase is complete I will try and arrange for me to bring him to Nagasaki for your inspection’.

Just as it had at the time, bile now joined the throbbing heartbeat in Aiko’s throat. She clasped a hand to her neck, as if to pull at the invisible strands that prevented her breathing. She

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forced herself to calm down. I must be calm, she told herself. I must be brave. For Takeshi.

Aiko gripped the handle of the suitcase firmly and descended down the stairs. She moved quickly, sacrificing silence for speed. Though she had a strong idea where her husband might be. She had already gone by Takeshi’s room to find that it was empty. They could be only in one place.

Arriving in the kitchen, Aiko set the suitcase on the counter and approached the door to the basement. She didn’t even bother opening it. Instead she knocked, gently, three times before calling out, ‘Hitomu! Meet me in the kitchen, please. Bring Takeshi’.

She waited only a few minutes. Eventually the door creaked slowly open and the ashamed face of her husband poked out.

‘Where is Takeshi?’ Aiko asked stiffly. Her voice was void of emotion. She couldn’t even bring herself to make eye contact with Hitomu.

‘He is asleep’ Hitomu started to explain, edging out from behind the door.

‘You mean he is drugged’.‘Aiko you must understand, this final phase is very

important’ Hitomu started pleading, not even bothering to deny her accusation. He crept forward and, like a groveling beggar on the street, clasped his hands pleadingly before him. ‘I must do this, for the safety of our son’.

‘OUR SON?!’ Aiko suddenly boomed. She had never shouted like it before in her life. There was a strangled cry in

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there – a twist of agony escaping with her words. ‘Our son is just a BOY! Yet you treat him like some LAB ANIMAL! OUR SON!’

‘Aiko, please’ Hitomu begged.‘Get him. Get him now, Hitomu’ Aiko demanded. Her eyes

fixed on him with such intensity that he cowered from her stare.‘I can’t’ he all-but whimpered.‘Then I will’ Aiko said firmly, making for the door. ‘We are

leaving you, Hitomu’.Hitomu suddenly rose to his full height. That’s when he

noticed the suitcase on the counter. He looked from it to the angry eyes of his wife as she stormed towards him.

‘No, you can’t!’ he cried, throwing his arms out and pushing her backwards. Aiko lost her balance and landed flatly on her backside. Her cheeks flushed red with humiliation.

‘You dishonor me’ Aiko whispered, unable to stop the anger that now began surging through her veins. ‘Let me get my son!’

‘I can’t do that’ Hitomu shook his head. ‘I can’t let you take him’.

Aiko pulled herself to her feet and made for the door once again. Hitomu grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her away. She took hold on him, digging her nails into his upper arms. They grappled like crabs, scuttling around the kitchen in a frantic, desperate battle.

With sudden strength, Hitomu pushed down and landed Aiko on the floor. She felt her coccyx slam into the cold, marble tiles and unbearable pain shimmered up her spine. She cried out and rolled onto her stomach; anything to take the pressure off her lower back.

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‘Aiko!’ Hitomu cried, suddenly concerned. He bent over her, his formerly violent hands now searching to comfort her.

Blinded by pain and rage, Aiko twisted her upper body and drove her elbow into his head. She felt it make contact and his jaw gave way with a sickening pop. As he stumbled away from her, Aiko spun her legs and knocked his feet from underneath him.

Hitomu toppled. His head made contact with the marble floor and cracked like an egg.

Aiko froze in horror. In a matter of seconds, a large pool of blood was spilling across the kitchen floor. She scrabbled away from it – immune to the pain in her lower back now that her husband’s life was draining out of him before her very eyes.

A wave of coldness fell over her, like a cloud passing across the sun. Except that the sun did not reemerge and the cold sensation did not pass. It burrowed through her, as if she was becoming frozen. Her heart hardened and grew cold as the realisation dawned that, as her husband died in front of her, she did not care. In fact, she felt relieved.

She inhaled for what felt like the first time in minutes. Her breath was ragged and uneven but it felt good. It felt like breathing in fresh air after months – no, years – of living underground. Aiko got slowly to her feet and held herself up on the counter. Her whole body was shaking and her legs felt like jelly. The anger that had flooded through her had been replaced by adrenalin.

Entering the basement laboratory, she found Takeshi on the table in the center of the lab. It had now become far too common

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for her to find him this way; hooked up to machinery, chemicals flowing in and out of his body whilst monitors scanned his brain activity. She was ashamed to realise that, too often, she had seen her husband disconnect everything from Takeshi prematurely in the safest and most logical sequence.

Aiko repeated that order of removal now, so as not to harm her son any more than he’d already been subjected to. She dressed his unconscious body into the thick, warm clothes she’d prepared for him and wrapped him in two woolen blankets. Cradling his thin, light body close to her chest, she went back up to the kitchen.

On the final steps she almost slipped. Looking down, to her horror Hitomu’s blood had ebbed its way to the steps and was now cascading down them. It moved like a sluggish, crimson waterfall. As Aiko lifted her foot away, a garish print was left embedded in the hot, sticky blood.

Aiko cursed. She could stop and clean it up. But she didn’t want to risk Takeshi waking up half way through and seeing the utter carnage. The boy had been subjected to enough in his short life, without having to witness his father’s dead body and his mother mopping up the remains.

She continued up the final steps, leaving more footprints in her wake, and snatched the suitcase from the kitchen counter. She didn’t bother to take a final look at the body of her husband. There was nothing there she wanted to see. Instead she stepped over his body, pulled back the door to the back porch and fled into the cold, snow-filled night.

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Behind her she left a trail of blood-red footprints. Eventually, as they moved deeper into the thick woodland and climbed the steep slopes of the surrounding mountains, the blood grew dilute until it was almost obsolete.

Aiko knew she should have been more concerned by the traces she was leaving. It was more than enough for a prosecution service to secure a murder conviction against her.

But she didn’t care. It wasn’t just basic provisions she carried in her suitcase; it was a new life.

By tomorrow morning Aiko and Takeshi Sato would be somewhere else, far from Hinohara, living a brand new life.

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Aged 8

By road, by rail, they had travelled. On foot over mountains and even by boat across remote lakes; rowing for hours. The journey had carried them across rural, secluded Japan. Always travelling south, away from the Tokyo Prefecture and the life they had lived there.

The journey had given Aiko plenty of time to think of a convincing cover story for their sudden abandonment of Takeshi’s father. It had taken her a substantial amount of time to make it a solid, trustworthy story but eventually she had it all formed in her mind.

Hitomu had been assassinated, she’d told Takeshi. Very delicately, of course. As a result of the nature of his work. Competitors had tried to source him for other companies and it had all grown very messy, tangled and complex. Due to what his father had done for a living and how he’d met his untimely fate, it was necessary for Takeshi and her to take on new identities, she had explained. Aiko would become Kimiko and Takeshi, she had decided, would be able to keep his name though every other aspect of his life would have to be fabricated. Their surname was no longer Sato, but Akiyama.

‘Takeshi Akiyama’ the boy had practiced on almost every day of their journey, saying the name over and over again at his mother’s request so as to solidify it in his mind. ‘I was born in Nagoya to my mother, Kimiko. My father died before I was born.

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We recently moved to Minamichita, my mother owns some boats which she lets to fishermen or tourists’.

Kimiko had decided early on in their journey that Minamichita would be a good place for them to live. Isolated at the end of the peninsula in the Ise Bay, it was remote enough to not draw attention to them. She’d visited once as a girl with her parents (who had long since died, so tracing Kimiko and Takeshi here would be unlikely).

The story of her owning boats was not wrong; she made sure to purchase some as soon as they arrived with a large amount of money that she’d been secreting from Hitomu for months, combined with her own private savings.

It was now June and the weather was comfortably mild, albeit very wet. Although it was much the same as it was back home, the coastal environment made it feel distinctively wetter. They were no longer afforded the protection of the thick, dense woodland and their small apartment on the shoreline was open to all of the elements.

Behind them was the comforting and familiar green of woodland that climbed up a steep hillside. Kimiko felt settled and satisfied for the first time in a long time. The place felt very symbolic; behind them was a reminder of where they’d come from. Ahead was the wide open seas; full of unknown possibilities.

‘And now a special news report from our Washington correspondent, Kei Davis’. Kimiko’s attention was drawn away from the dinner she was cooking to the television set. She liked Kei Davis. Lots of the school mums did. He’d been on the TV a

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lot recently, reporting on new scientific discoveries from American laboratories. However today his usually glowing, handsome face was tightly drawn and solemnly composed.

‘Takeshi, turn that up’ she told her son. He reached across the sofa for the remote as Kimiko settled on the arm of the chair.

‘Thank you, Ryo’ Kei nodded curtly to the camera, addressing the lead presenter in the studio all the way in Tokyo. ‘Yes tonight I bring you a special report from America. Over the past few weeks we’ve seen the gradual emergence of information from MIT. I’m now here in Massachusetts to bring you this breaking story.

‘The information we’ve seen over the past few weeks concerning a previously undiscovered organism has now been brought together in a report published this week by the scientists at MIT. The report is extensive and thoroughly detailed, but the biggest detail coming from this report is that this organism has now been identified as extra-terrestrial’.

Kimiko’s eyes widened in surprise. The screen had been slowly showing a series of different images of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, as well as various scientists associated with the project ducking in and out of the building; all doing their best to avoid the hordes of press that were camped outside.

However with this revelation, the camera cut back to Kai’s stern and steady expression. There was no questioning the integrity of this claim; Kei’s cool and collected gaze conveyed the seriousness of the message.

‘In a very recent development, scientists here at MIT have been able to successfully match certain organic compounds

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found inside the organism to compounds discovered on the debris of the Mars space probe, which crashed back to Earth almost eighteen years ago’.

Now the screen cut to amateur footage from multiple different angles of the 2020 Mars Probe crashing to Earth. A bright, loud explosion high in the atmosphere followed by a trail of fire blazed across the sky like something out of a Hollywood movie. There were gasps, cries and anguished shouting from people within the footage; clearly not understanding what they were seeing.

Of course, almost eighteen years later, everyone on Earth now knew what that event was. The dramatic, failed re-entry of the Mars Probe into Earth’s atmosphere was now so familiar that almost anyone could recognise it with the slightest glance. Even Takeshi, only eight years old, knew exactly what it was.

‘Further research into the organism – named “Aermusca” in this latest research paper – indicates that it would have inhabited Mars’ former atmosphere, as it now appears to inhabit our own. Of course you will remember that the samples in which Aermusca was first discovered come from the edges of the Pacific Ozone Hole – the gaping gap in the atmosphere over the West Coast of America which is causing chaos and disruption to the everyday lives of American citizens’.

On the screen now were the streets of Los Angeles and San Francisco. People clung to the shade, walking single-file down the streets to stay out of the sunshine. Those that didn’t carried huge, reflective silver umbrellas whilst the cameras also focused

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on the number of people stuck inside, waiting for cloud cover to form before leaving the safety of their homes.

‘The Ozone Crisis in Western America continues to worsen and scientists are now asking the question of whether or not the Aermusca will continue to contribute to the depletion of ozone in the area’.

Kimiko shook her head at the slowly unfolding tragedy. She felt terrible for the people living there though at the same time, it was old news now. Many people in the world had chosen to forget about the suffering of Western America, as they so often did when suffering happened on such an unmanageable scale. Everyone knew there was little they could do, and so they got on with their lives.

Perhaps Kei Davis could sense this attitude, or was at least aware of it amongst his viewers, as he quickly wrapped up his report and returned the coverage to the studio. Kimiko was at least glad to have seen the report. Tomorrow, when Takeshi returned to school after the weekend, she would at least be able to keep up with the parent-playground gossip.

Kimiko sighed and returned to cooking the dinner. When she went back to the living room fifteen minutes later to set the table, she found Takeshi sprawled on the floor. His body was convulsing and shuddering uncontrollably. Ugly, white froth was foaming at his mouth.

Kimiko screamed.

* * *

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A tumour in his brain. Kimiko wept. It was impossible. It was not fair. ‘How?’ she asked, begged, of the doctors. They shook their heads dismally, as if they too could not understand the injustice of someone so young having such a terminal infliction.

‘I am so sorry’ the doctor had told her, as sincerely as he could manage. But his pity meant little. Kimiko didn’t even know his name. The comforts of a stranger were not enough. There was no one that could offer her the support she needed. There was no support that would suffice. She felt hopeless, like a sailor lost at sea. Waves of emotion carried her in every direction, never still and always restless.

‘How long does he have?’ Kimiko asked during a break from the storm in her mind. Her eyes were red and her throat was raw. She had not known it was possible to cry so much, or to feel such intense and consuming sadness.

The doctor pursed his lips and sucked his cheeks pensively. He glanced around the room, at the apprehensive faces of the nurses that accompanied him. They stood, waiting for the news to break like someone who stares up at a blackened sky, waiting for the rain to fall.

‘It is difficult to estimate’ the doctor replied. ‘His tumour is very aggressive, one of the fastest growing I’ve ever seen’.

‘How long?’ Kimiko sobbed tearlessly.‘I would give him no longer than three to fourth months’.She looked down at the unconscious body of her son

between them; his head bandaged and his chest rising and falling gently with slow, rhythmic breaths.

With those words spoken, Kimiko felt her heart fracture.

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Aged 9

It was not through memory, but through a dream that Kimiko recalled the information that she was sure would save her son’s life. The setting and even the voices were disjointed and distorted now but the message of the dream was carried to her as clearly as a ray of sunshine. He can be saved.

The thought had jolted her awake so abruptly that she had sat bolt upright in her bed. But just like any dream, as soon as she had awaked it began to subside from her mind, melting away and as difficult to hold as running water. Kimiko fought, scrunching up her face in concentration, trying to remember how Takeshi could be saved. What had she dreamed? What had been so vital?

Just when she was beginning to think that the whole thing had been an illusion – not just the dream itself but the notion that Takeshi would live – it struck her. Like a bolt from the blue, she heard the words in her mind as clearly as if they’d been spoken aloud.

“…I will try and arrange for me to bring him to Nagasaki for your inspection”.

Nagasaki! Hitomu’s phone call!Now Kimiko was truly awake, alive with adrenalin. She

flicked on the bedside lamp and grabbed the notepad that sat beneath it. Almost without conscious thought, she felt the pen flow across the page, noting down everything that came into her

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mind about the dream, the memory; anything associated with that one line.

Hitomu had been on the phone. He’d been planning his next experiment on Takeshi…what was it he had called it? The final phase. At the time, Kimiko had cancelled her trip. He was going to do the experiment when I went away. The thoughts came thick and fast and Kimiko’s hand could barely keep up with her stream of consciousness.

He must have done the experiments regardless, Kimiko realised. Her note-making was slowing as the end of the experience dawned on her. Hitomu must have completed the final phase. Or maybe he didn’t.

Kimiko stopped writing but the thoughts in her mind were now crystal clear: Hitomu had experimented. He had either completed the final phase of his testing, or he hadn’t. Either way, Kimiko was instantly convinced that in some way, Hitomu’s work had gone wrong. It was he who had caused Takeshi’s tumour. Going to Nagasaki could rectify it. There was hope.

Kimiko threw back the covers, knowing what she must do next. But as she looked up and saw that all the lights were still on in her home, she remembered. She remembered the sadness. The anguish. The pain. The grief.

The dream and the sudden rush of ideas had completely clouded her reality. She mildly suspected that her mind had done it on purpose, to help her forget.

Forget that Takeshi had died two days ago.

* * *

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She sat in the waiting room. It felt as cold and sterile as she imagined the rooms beyond the double doors to be. There was a scattering of magazines on the table – gossipy, celebrity nonsense. It would take something more substantial than that to distract anyone from the purpose of their visit.

It was incredibly early in the morning and Kimiko was the first visitor of the day. Despite the nature of its purpose, the morgue in Minamichita could do more to be welcoming and comforting. But the receptionist was hidden from view behind a high, solid front desk and an eerie silence sat heavy in the air.

The forbidding double doors suddenly swung open and crisp, cold air rolled into the waiting room. Kimiko shivered.

‘Ms. Akiyama?’ the undertaker who entered asked the room. His eyes settled on the only waiting person. She rose to her feet. The man looked suddenly uncomfortable and awkward.

‘Perhaps we could sit?’ he gestured to the seat that Kimiko had just risen from. Confused, she sat down. As she did so, she saw him gesture quickly to the receptionist, and she swiftly left them alone.

‘What is going on?’ Kimiko asked. She was exhausted, having been awake since the dream woke her up in the early hours. She just wanted to see her son; just one last time, before funeral preparations were made.

‘There is no easy way for me to tell you this, so forgive me’ the undertaker said. ‘But the body of your son was taken last night’.

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Kimiko felt as if someone had just thrown a glass of ice cold water in her face. ‘Taken?’ she repeated, shaking her head minutely.

The undertaken looked hesitant. He swallowed heavily before speaking again. ‘Stolen’.

Kimiko’s eyes widened. ‘Stolen?!’‘It is not altogether uncommon’ the undertaken began

mumbling, twisting his hands together in ferocious, sweaty knots. ‘Corpses are often stolen for research or – ’

‘STOLEN?!’ Kimiko heard herself shriek. She hadn’t even meant to raise such a noise. But her voice was strangled and strained in her throat. Pain unleashed itself once again, stronger that she thought was possible. Had she not already suffered enough? Had Takeshi not already suffered enough?!

‘I’m sorry’ Kimiko apologised stiffly, sucking in a slow and measured breath. She felt the new lease of oxygen enter her bloodstream and begin to calm her mind. ‘I’m sorry’, she repeated. ‘I would like to know who stole my son’s remains’.

‘The authorities have been called’ the undertaken responded. ‘They should be arriving shortly’.

Kimiko felt her body tense. She couldn’t allow the official authorities to take part in the disappearance of her son’s body. It might be all-too-easy for them to stumble across their true identities. Kimiko would be arrested almost instantly as the infamous murderer, Aiko Hitomu.

‘Very good’ Kimiko remained calm. ‘I would like to see the CCTV footage from last night?’

The undertaker looked surprised.

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‘I trust you have CCTV?’The undertaken nodded. ‘Wouldn’t you rather wait until the

police arrive?’‘I would’ Kimiko nodded. ‘But I am going to need to run to

work briefly and warn them that I will be away from the office. I’d best do it in person; my boss would not be best pleased with a simple phone call’. The lies came to her more easily than she’d anticipated. Is this what I have become? she asked herself. A compulsive and competent liar?

‘Very well’ the undertaken sighed. He was almost too easy to convince. He led Kimiko to the receptionist’s vacant desk and began pulling up the footage on the computer. ‘What do you hope to gain from this?’ he wondered aloud.

‘It’s possible that it might be someone known to us’ Kimiko lied, again. ‘Our family contains some extreme characters with strong beliefs. I would not put it past them’.

The undertaker merely nodded, not knowing the appropriate response.

‘Here’ he said eventually, shifting to the side and allowing Kimiko to look at the screen. ‘The body snatchers wore masks, but we got their vehicle registration quite distinctly’. The undertaker adjusted something on the computer and the recording skipped forward and changed location. He paused it on a stationary black van, the registration plate clearly visible.

Kimiko made a quick mental note of the numbers. ‘I think perhaps it isn’t one of my relatives. I don’t recognise the van. I suppose it is best to let the police deal with it’.

The undertaken nodded his agreement.

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‘I will be back from the office in about half an hour’ Kimiko told him, gathering up her handbag. ‘Please tell the police to wait for me here’.

‘I’ll be sure to do just that’. The undertaker offered her his best sympathetic smile but it was too well-practiced; too false. Kimiko returned her best fake smile and promptly left the morgue.

As soon as she was in her car, she drove away quickly so as not to arouse suspicion. A few miles down the road, Kimiko stopped at a café and parked her car out of sight. Using the Wi-Fi available in the café, Kimiko started making her enquiries.

She started by investigating the registration details of the vehicle. It soon became clear that it was a rental vehicle and Kimiko knew that she would have trouble tracking down the details of the person who had hired it. Companies never gave out the details. Kimiko was on the verge of pursuing another line of interest when she had an idea.

She found the number of the hire car service and called them.

‘Good morning, Toyota Rentacar, how may I help you today?’ It was a female voice.

Kimiko took in a short, sharp breath before speaking. The voice she put on was stern and stiff; authoritative and compelling. She hoped.

‘I’m calling on behalf of my manager, they would like to extend their rental’ Kimiko said, speaking swiftly with an air of efficiency. She gave the registration number of the vehicle and then waited.

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There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before the woman replied.

‘Okay, sure. How would Mr. Mikazuki like to pay?’Kimiko breathed a huge sigh of relief. Mikazuki. It was not a

name that she recognised.‘As before’ Kimiko continued the charade, wondering how

much more information she would be able to get. ‘The same account’.

‘Okay, sure’ the woman repeated. She sounded dreadfully bored. ‘I’ll just need to run some security questions before I can go ahead and sanction the extension. Are you authorised to answer security questions on Mr. Mikazuki’s behalf?’

Kimiko hung up the call. It wasn’t much, but she had a name. It was not a name commonly heard either, which should hopefully help her cause. Turning to the internet, Kimiko began searching for the mysterious Mr. Mikazuki.

* * *

Three days later…

Zuki ResearchThe future, today.

The writing glowed from across the expansive parking lot against the backdrop of a pitch black sky. The electric-blue

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lettering reflected in the vast puddles on the ground, casting the azure light all around.

Kimiko’s car bathed in it. Inside the car, secreted in the shadows within, Kimiko gripped the steering wheel tightly. The car hadn’t moved for almost an hour now. She had sat perfectly still as the sun had set from the sky and the employee car park for Zuki Research had emptied.

Now she was alone; the gentle rhythm of rain on the roof and the dull throbbing of her heart the only sounds to keep her company. She breathed slowly, staring at the building before her. It was a giant, shining cube. It towered far into the sky; as squat and wide as it was tall, with the name of the research company emblazoned on the side of the building. It looked to be made entirely of tinted glass – black, no doubt – but it took on a blueish hue from the bright writing.

As she sat in her car, Kimiko was almost entirely certain that the body of her son lay within its pristine walls.

Mr. Mikazuki was a scientist. It had not taken her long at all to discover his identity or the nature of his work. It was almost too easy, Kimiko had thought briefly, before dismissing the notion. Easy or not, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she found Takeshi’s body. She would not have him be so blatantly dishonored.

What had taken her a while – something which she discovered during a stay-over on her long journey to Zuki Research in Nagasaki – was the discovery that Mr. Mikazuki was not-so distantly connected to her late husband. In fact, not only had they shared similar lines of scientific investigation, but they’d

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gone to university together and participated in a range of bold and pioneering experiments.

Kimiko became convinced as she’d arrived in Nagasaki the previous night that Mr. Mikazuki had been the person on the phone to her husband, all that time ago. That talk of a “final phase” made Kimiko realise that the theft of her son’s body might not have been such a random crime at all. If Mr. Mikazuki had had an interest in Hitomu’s work on Takeshi, then it made perfect sense that he would want to see the boy’s body in the event of his death.

Goodness knows what Mikazuki was doing to Takeshi’s remains.

Kimiko forced the thought from the forefront of her mind. With a final, definitive, self-assured nod Kimiko readied herself. She reached into the glovebox of the car for the Beretta Px4 Storm Subcompact that she had purchased discreetly earlier in the day. The gun was light in her hand and cold to the touch. It felt so incredibly light and harmless that had she not bought it herself with the intention of arming herself, she might have mistook it for a toy guy. The weight, however, increased as she loaded the empty magazine cartridge.

Before concealing it in her jacket she did just as the man in the shop had guided her to check; the safety was on and her pocket was empty of anything else. It was all too common, the man had told her, for pocket junk to unlock the safety and cause a weapon to fire. Kimiko sincerely hoped not to use it and she definitely hoped it would not go off accidentally.

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Although she knew that was she was about to do was highly illegal. She was going to break into this research facility, find the body of her son and take him away. Just as Mr. Mikazuki’s henchman had done three days ago from the Minamichita morgue.

Gun locked and loaded, Kimiko stepped out of the car.

* * *

Breaking in had been the hardest part. At the back of the building she’d found an exit that she’d managed to wrangle open with nothing but brute force. It involved strength that she hadn’t known she was capable of. But the truth was, alive or dead, nothing was going to stop her getting to Takeshi.

For some absurd reason, the door hadn’t even been alarmed. When it had broken open, Kimiko had immediately expected to set off anti-intruder devices, but nothing happened at all.

Now inside, Kimiko started to realise that getting into the building was probably going to be the easiest part of her venture. She walked a little way along the corridor; a bare expanse of poorly lit linoleum and white-painted breezeblock walls. Almost at the end of the hallway – which had no doors leading from it – she found an emergency exit map of the building. It was pasted to the wall and as she looked at it, a feeling of dread crept upon her.

From the outside, the building might have appeared basic, albeit stylish, but inside it was a labyrinth. I am never going to

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find Takeshi. The thought flashed through her mind for just a second, but it was enough to all that feeling of anxiety to swell and grow.

But then there was another thought. It was all she needed. I must try.

At the end of the corridor was a door which brought her into a brighter, more official-looking hallway. It was brightly lit and properly decorated, with polished tiled floors and artwork suspended on the walls at even intervals. Looking back, she saw that the door through which she’d passed was labelled as an entrance for service staff only.

Albeit brighter than the previous corridor, it was still dimly lit. It was as if the lights had all be turned down low to indicate that it was now night, and the end of the working day. Kimiko imagined that during working hours this corridor was alive with activity and people bustling by. But now it was as silent as the morgue from which she had started on this journey.

Turning at random to the left, Kimiko prepared to explore the building further. She froze instantly.

At the far end of the corridor framed by a floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the parking lot, stood the silhouette of a man. Kimiko could see nothing of him other than the broad and somewhat bulky outline against the blue backdrop outside.

She didn’t know whether to reach for the gun in her jacket pocket, or run back the way she had just come.

‘You must be Ms.Akiyama’ the man said. He began walking towards her in slow, measured steps. Kimiko couldn’t help but

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feel intimidated. His footsteps resonated down the hallway, as if even they were fleeing in his wake. ‘Or is it Mrs. Sato?’

Kimiko’s heart shuddered and a chill swept over her skin.The man’s silhouette changed as he approached. His arms

opened up in a non-threatening gesture. But it made no difference to Kimiko; it had been so long since she’d been called by that name she couldn’t help but feel sickened at hearing it.

‘Ms. Akiyama will do’ she replied in the toughest voice she could manage. It sounded good, inside her head.

The shadow of the man kept drawing closer until the light nearby was enough to illuminate him properly. He was in his late forties – the same age as her late husband, no doubt – with short black hair that was peppered with flecks of grey and white. His eyes were cold and uncaring. Like those of a reptile, they gave no hint of emotion or thought.

‘Ms. Akiyama it is’. He smiled and she couldn’t help but feel disturbed. It was quite incredible to behold, but a smile really did not suit his face. She’d never seen anything like it. ‘I imagine you have a lot of questions. I’ve been expecting you and keeping track of your progress from Minamichita. Shall we go to my office?’

Kimiko’s mind became a whirlwind of thought. She could barely process what he was saying – he’d been following her? He knew she was coming, tonight? No wonder there had been no alarms. It seems that this man had wanted her to find her way inside, to him.

‘You are?’ she managed to ask as he led her along the corridor.

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‘I think you know the answer to that’ he said. He didn’t turn to look at her, but she could tell that he was smiling again. The creepiness that his smile emanated seemed to permeate through the air. Kimiko paused for a split second so that she could fall a step further back from him.

‘Mr. Mikazuki’ she breathed. The man said nothing. He didn’t need to. ‘I want to see my son’ Kimiko demanded. Mr. Mikazuki stopped and turned. ‘Very well’ he said,

changing his direction. ‘I suppose there is no point in wasting our time’.

Kimiko reeled in surprise. She had not expected it to be so easy. He led her back in the direction from which they had both just come. They returned to elevator doors they had just passed and they found a lift waiting for them. Once inside, Mr. Mikazuki pressed a button near the bottom of the selection and the lift quickly plummeted. Kimiko couldn’t tell if it was the rapid movement of the lift or tension that made her gut churn and ache.

When the doors slid open, Kimiko paused in surprise. She had expected, for some reason, to see a mirror copy of the hallway from which they’d just come. The scene, however, was totally different.

The lift opened up into a room that looked like a cross between a lobby and a waiting room. It was dark; not just because it was underground but the décor was entirely different. The walls were of a cold, grey stone and the floor was black

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marble. All of the furniture – from the chairs that lined the wall to the tall, skinny tables that held vases of flowers – was white.

Around the room were a series of doors, embedded into the walls. They looked to be thick and heavy, reminding Kimiko of the kind of doors that sealed bank vaults. Only more regularly sized.

‘What is this place?’ Kimiko asked, unable to suppress her curiosity. The change in environment was too drastic and unexpected; she had to know.

‘This is our underground facility for our secure research’ Mr. Mikazuki replied coolly. He spoke as if he were an estate agent showing a potential buyer a new house; not a sadistic scientist that had abducted the body of her dead son.

Kimiko was beginning to have dreadful thoughts about why he had led her to this place. What was her son’s body doing in a secure facility?

All the while, Mr. Mikazuki did not stop moving and he walked over to one of the heavy-set doors. He quickly typed a code into the keypad beside the door and the stood perfectly still as some kind of device scanned his eye. With a sharp hiss the door clicked upon and swung a little on its hinge, so that Mr. Mikazuki could open it fully.

Kimiko followed him through and there, before her eyes, without any warning was Takeshi.

Alive and well.* * *

Alive.

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Breathing.Kimiko could not believe her eyes. She took in a breath but

it caught in her throat and she felt as if she was going to suffocate.

The room was long, stretching back into shadow. Takeshi sat on the floor, surrounded by a sea of colourful toys that stood out against the dark, grey environment. Next to him knelt a young woman in a white lab coat. She was playing with him.

He laughed.Kimiko cried.‘My boy’ she exclaimed, dashing forward. She was stopped

abruptly by a glass wall, which had been invisible until she’d hit it. There was a dull, resounding thud and Takeshi briefly glanced in her direction – looking almost right at her – before quickly returning to his toys.

‘One-way, soundproof glass’ Mr. Mikazuki remarked, watching Kimiko with that ever-present, disturbing smile.

Kimiko stepped back and recovered her mind. There was a door at the far-side of the room, seamlessly attached to the almost invisible glass. She tried it but found it to be locked fast.

‘I want to see him! Let me see him!’ Kimiko exasperated. ‘You’ve missed your son’ Mr. Mikazuki remarked. Kimiko

stopped pulling at the door and turned slowly to face him. A look of genuine surprise and disgust occupied her face.

‘Missed him?’ she whispered. She couldn’t believe he could reduce what she had felt for the past week to such a simple and unsuitable adjective. ‘Missed him? My son was dead! He died! I lost him, forever!’

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Mr. Mikazuki continued to smile, making Kimiko feel sick. ‘Yet there he is’, he pointed. ‘Quite alive’.

‘What did you do to him?!’ Kimiko demanded. Her fingers were twitching with rage. She suddenly became aware of the weight of the gun in her jacket pocket. ‘He died!’

Mr. Mikazuki shook his head. His smile somewhat subsided before he started to explain. ‘Your son was never dead. Not technically. He almost died, that much is true. And yes, I suppose that legally and naturally, his heart did stop beating and life left his body. But that was only temporary’.

Kimiko felt as though she was only hearing half of his words. ‘Temporary?’ she questioned, her eyebrows knotting together, her brow creasing up.

‘It is very lucky for you that I kept track of you and Takeshi after the…life changing events in Hinohara. Or else I fear that Takeshi would have died a true death, had I not been able to intervene’.

‘I don’t understand…’ Kimiko sunk to her knees and started to weep. Images of that awful night, when her husband had met his death, flashed through her mind like a sped-up movie. Behind her, Takeshi continued playing with the lady in the lab coat; totally oblivious to the proximity of his mother.

‘Unfortunately for Takeshi, as well as the work Hitomu and I were endeavoring to complete, I’m sad to say that you killed your husband at a most unfortunate time’ Mr. Mikazuki said calmly. ‘We had been preparing for Takeshi to enter the final phase of the experimentation process. The work which he had been conducting on Takeshi since his birth was almost at an end’.

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Since his birth?! Kimiko was almost sick. The first time she’d caught Hitomu experimenting on Takeshi had been when the boy was aged five. It had gone on since birth. Kimiko could barely bring herself to consider it.

‘When your husband died and you fled Hinohara, I was left with a very difficult decision to make. You and I had never met, nor had I ever met Takeshi. I couldn’t swoop in and complete the work. Besides, Takeshi seemed to be doing quite well given that – without the final phase – he shouldn’t have lasted much past Christmas’.

Kimiko could not believe what she was hearing. Hitomu had willingly brought their son to the brink of death. The truth was becoming unbearable.

‘I suppose you could say I took my eye off the ball. I began to check up on you less and less frequently. Which is how I missed all the warning signs that Takeshi was dying’. Mr. Mikazuki rubbed the bridge of his nose between his eyes and scrunched up his face before continuing his narrative. ‘My heart almost broke when I learned that Takeshi had died. Everything that we’d worked for had come so close to fruition. I refused to accept that it was over until I had seen his body in person’, Mr. Mikazuki gave a short laugh. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw him. He was definitely dead, but there were signs that indicated that it was not a permanent state for him’.

‘Death is permanent’ Kimiko was shaking her head adamantly. ‘No one can come back from the dead’, she sobbed. ‘What did you do to him?’

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‘We made Takeshi something altogether different’ Mr. Mikazuki said. ‘Death was not the end for Takeshi, but rather a period of transformation. Hitomu and I had hypothesized this transformation process but we believed that we had to artificially stimulate Takeshi’s brain to undergo it. It appears that the tumour that had been growing in his brain did that for us.

‘By the time I had recovered Takeshi’s body to this facility, I was able to revive him with remarkable ease. Of course, the process was more complicated than I make out, but not at all beyond the means of this institute’. Mr. Mikazuki had taken on a tone that was almost boastful. It was instantly easy to see that his true motivation for helping Takeshi lay with the scientific interest rather than on a more human level.

‘Is he immortal?’ Kimiko whispered, barely daring to imagine such a possibility.

Mr. Mikazuki laughed heartily. ‘Of course not, Ms. Aiko! No one truly escapes death. This…incident was almost expected of Takeshi. It just happened in a way that I had not been able to predict or simulate’.

Kimiko shook her head, in disgust and disbelief. She glanced over her shoulder at Takeshi, still playing happily behind the glass. The woman in the lab coat had snagged one of his toys in the pink woolen jumper she wore beneath it and Takeshi was laughing raucously.

‘This transformation solidified all of the organic transplants and electrical manipulations that Hitomu had made to Takeshi’s brain over the years’, Mr. Mikazuki continued.

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‘For what purpose?’ Kimiko asked. She was suddenly finding an inner strength that gave voice to the contesting thoughts in her mind. ‘What did all of this suffering achieve?!’

Mr. Mikazuki’s lips blossomed into his biggest smile yet. Given how sickening this expression had been before she knew anything about him, Kimiko now found nothing but repugnance in his twisted grin. ‘Takeshi is now a remarkable young boy; completely different to any other on this planet’.

‘I could have saved you a lot of time and trouble’ Kimiko grimaced through tears. ‘He already was before Hitomu even touched him’.

‘My dear Ms. Aiko, you have no idea of what your son will be capable of now…what he will bring to this world’ Mr. Mikazuki took his eyes off her and they travelled to where Takeshi sat playing. ‘This world has a very bright future, all thanks to the work we have done and the person your son has become. His brain will be…revolutionary’.

‘You’ll have nothing more to do with him’. Kimiko stood and as she did so, brought her hand out of her pocket. The black Beretta Px4 glimmered lick a shimmering shadow in her hand. She flicked her thumb to disengage the safety and pointed the barrel right in Mr. Mikazuki’s face.

He continued to smile, a look on his face that said he didn’t believe her intentions for one second.

‘I killed the last man who messed with my son’, Kimiko said through gritted teeth. It was true that she didn’t want to pull the trigger. The blood, the sound, the act of killing…she wanted none of it. But it wouldn’t stop her.

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Kimiko didn’t have the chance to think about how she should have acted quicker. In the blink of an eye, in a move faster than she would have thought him capable of, Mr. Mikazuki slid the gun from her grasp into his own hand.

She hardly had a second to gasp before he pressed the barrel of the gun into her abdomen. With one hand pulling on the back of her neck and the gun digging into her flesh, he pulled the trigger until the magazine was empty.

* * *

Mr. Mikazuki let the woman fall to the ground, blood pouring like water from a running tap. She slumped into a pathetic heap, back on her knees where she had spent the majority of their interaction.

He quickly looked down and himself and was grateful to see that he carried no bloodstains on his suit. He looked up sharply at Takeshi, the sight of him now tinted red by the blood that covered the glass. He was still playing. The shots had gone unheard.

Mr. Mikazuki dropped the gun onto the woman’s lifeless body and wiped his hands on the sides of his trousers. Stepping over her, he approached the door that led through to where Takeshi and the lab assistant sat playing.

‘Mika!’ Takeshi exclaimed as he opened the door and entered the room. The boy smiled upon seeing him and immediately stopped playing. ‘You’ve been gone for ages!’

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‘Only an hour’, Mr. Mikazuki chuckled as he embraced the boy.

Suddenly Takeshi screamed. Mr. Mikazuki recoiled for their embrace and saw a look of horror on the boy’s face. He was staring past Mr. Mikazuki at the door through which he had just passed.

Lying in the middle of the doorway, a trail of blood behind her, was the boy’s wretched mother. Her skin was as white as any sheet; the life almost drained from her body.

Mr. Mikazuki could have cursed. He should have checked to ensure she was truly, finally dead. Of course he should have done.

‘Takeshi!’ she wheezed, reaching out a bloody hand across the floor towards her son. Takeshi broke from his hold and stumbled away, back towards the lab assistant who took him into her arms protectively.

‘Mum!’ Takeshi gasped, tears springing from his eyes as if they were in a race. He looked to Mr. Mikazuki accusingly. ‘You said my mum had died! That’s why Suzi was going to look after me’ he held the lab assistant tightly to him.

‘She almost is…’ Mr. Mikazuki muttered under his breath, expelling his frustration in a whisper that Takeshi didn’t get to hear.

‘Takeshi!’ Kimiko rasped, dragging herself across the floor. ‘Don’t…trust him’. She sounded as if she had run a marathon. Her voice was breathless, her volume up and down and totally beyond her control as she fought to keep the last ounces of life

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in her body. ‘He…he shot me and he…he…he will do very bad things to your soul…don’t…trust him’.

Takeshi stared in horror at his mother as she slowly became a dead body before his eyes. Mr. Mikazuki watched helplessly; his lips now pursed in total defiance and anger.

In her last moments, Kimiko made eye contact with the lab assistant, Suzi. In her eyes she saw something come to life; a flash of anger followed by a determination that made Suzi take hold of Takeshi firmly in her arms.

‘Run, Takeshi. Never, ever…trust him’, Kimiko urged with her final words. ‘Run, Takeshi. Run for your life’.

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Aged 15

My name is Takeshi Sato. I wish I could say that I was just a normal teenager and that, up until this point, my life had been pretty boring. But the truth is, I’ve seen and done more in my decade and a half than most people dare to dream of in a lifetime.

Of course, there have been things that you simply would not wish to dream of. From birth until the age of 7 my own father conducted painful, intrusive and highly immoral experiments on me. They only stopped because my mother murdered him. Well, I suppose that it was technically manslaughter. I don’t think she had the intention of killing him. Then again, how would you feel if someone you loved was doing something sadistic in your basement?

When I was 9, my mother was murdered [actual murder, in this instance]. On the

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night of her murder I narrowly escaped the custody of my father’s friend, Mr. Mikazuki. If it hadn’t been for Suzi’s determination to get me out of Nagasaki, I dread to think of where my life would be right now, or the things that I would have done to the world to cause harm.

Suzi and I talk often about the past [I think it is healthy to always remember], and the one thing we both agree on is that Mr. Mikazuki’s intentions for using me could only have been bad.

You see the thing is, I am not a normal teenager. Not just because I’ve experience more drama in my short life than one of those epically long American television dramas, but because I guess my father’s experiments succeeded. Sadly.

He instilled in me a thirst for knowledge; a desire to learn and a passion to pioneer. What is so wrong with that, I

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hear you ask? Well along with this insatiable thirst for knowledge, my father manipulated my brain to such a capacity that, despite how clever I have become, not even I can comprehend everything that I am capable of doing.

I hear that quantum physics is laborious, challenging and impossible for many humans to understand. To me, it is no more complicated that...I don’t know. I don’t know what is simple to other people because I find everything simple.

I’m terribly aware of how arrogant this sounds and I truly don’t want to be thought of in that way. I cannot help it. The experiments that my father conducted on me have made me this person. That was their purpose: to create a human with super intelligence and the capacity for understanding beyond anything in nature.

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I see the world in a way no one else can. Like people in a gallery, for example. Like the Louvre, in Paris. Everyone looks upon a piece of art in a different way. Well, I look at it in the same way that all of those hundreds of millions of visitors each year see it, and then in a million other ways.

I kind of see now that I was designed to be used. My father and Mr. Mikazuki couldn’t expand their own capacity for knowledge; it had to be done from birth and be part of a human’s natural growth. But the truth is that I was designed to be used, and I was designed as a weapon.

I’ve seen the files. Suzi and I both did. After Zuki Research was raided and sealed by the police in Nagasaki, we paid it a visit to recover what knowledge we could. It was all there; a projection of my potential uses and applications in the world. A list of things they thought I would be capable of: rocket science,

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particle physics, architectural design, creating beautiful art, imagining possibilities beyond the realms of this dimension...the list was extensive and almost as imaginative as my brain has grown to be.

I was designed as a weapon, to be sold or rented to the highest bidder.

Along with the drive instilled in me by my father’s experiments, is a distinct lack of moral judgement. My perception of the world and of humanity is so far beyond that of every other human that emotions and morals become irrelevant.

But now there is more. My mother sacrificing her own life in pursuit of getting me back – even though she thought me to be dead – taught me more than life itself could have. It showed me a love that is unparalleled across our entire existence; the unconditional love of a parent.

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I feel that this has balanced me, somewhat. That drive, that urge, that desire to relentless learn burns away inside me all of the time. But so too does a growing understanding of the ways in which love functions and it keeps me stable.

I now know that I will always fight to make the right choices and do the right thing; acting for the greater good of those around me no matter how hard that might be.

I’m writing this to remind me of this if I ever stray from the path. I know it won’t be easy, and I know I won’t always have Suzi’s support and guidance, but I will always fight to do the right thing.

Although I’m scared that, sometimes, I will make mistakes.

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Documents

Takeshi