Keshi’s eyes shot open to a distant echo.
As he came to, he realized he was sitting up in bed.
The room was familiar—he recognized the striped yellow wallpaper immediately, and the knit afghan around his feet. The carved seashell on the top drawer of the dresser… and the rubber-faced clown doll on the floor beside it.
And yet, he wasn’t quite sure where he was.
The slam of a car trunk outside—then the clatter of keys—snapped him back. He jerked his head to the right with a sharp gasp.
“—Mom?”
He peered through the open door into the dark, empty hallway, anticipating the sound of footsteps.
But none came.
“I’m really starting to lose it.”
The voice in his left ear caused Keshi’s hair to stand on end.
He turned to see a young man lying beside him in the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
A couple of years older, he had a bleached buzzcut, thick black eyebrows, and sharp features. A baggy denim jacket with a wool collar hung loosely over his white t-shirt. His scuffed tennis shoes dug into the clean linens, which bunched over the rolled cuffs of his jeans.
Seeing him, Keshi felt a sudden and intense aching feeling.
Yet, like the room, he couldn’t place him.
His name was there, dancing behind the curtains in a dark part of his mind—but he couldn’t form the sounds.
He just knew that he knew him.
Every chemical in his body seemed to say so.
Cigarettes—which he hated on anyone else—masking a fresh, outdoorsy scent. Like he could smell the sunlight on him.
The young man turned and stared Keshi in the eyes, causing his heart to skip a beat.
“What’s that look?”
Without hesitation, Keshi heard himself answer:
“I’m just used to you saying dumb nonsense, is all.”
A puff of laughter escaped the young man’s nostrils. After a moment, his pupils drifted to stare at something far away.
“I mean it. Something’s wrong with me.”
“Yeah. You bailed on me. Asshole.”
The words came so flippantly, but Keshi still felt the hurt as he said it.
The young man’s tone softened.
“I’m sorry. I needed to be by myself for a while.”
He glanced down at Keshi’s stomach—his expression suddenly concerned.
“You’re bleeding.”
Keshi followed his gaze and saw that he was waist-deep in a pool of blood.
He sprang out of bed, painting a red streak across the sheets—slipping as his bare feet made contact with the hardwood floor. He managed to catch himself on the night stand, leaving a wet handprint on the edge.
For a moment, he just stared at the puddle.
It was a lot of blood.
Until once more, words came pouring out.
“I poked myself sewing…”
As the blood soaked through the mattress, Keshi noticed a small hole in the sheets where he was lying.
“Must’ve been pretty deep.”
“Yeah, well. Sewing is dangerous.”
The young man smiled.
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
PLOP… PLOP
Keshi looked down and noticed he was still bleeding. Large drops that splattered his pink and white sneakers as they hit the bright concrete.
PLOP… PLOP PLOP
He felt a sudden breeze against his skin, then the heat on his neck as the sounds of the busy street seeped into his ears.
The yellow wallpaper began to dissolve in his periphery.
Keshi tried to keep his focus—to hold onto some piece of it—but soon, he couldn’t remember what it was he was trying to hold on to.
Cars? Bicycle spokes? The smell of yakisoba?
He closed his eyes, staring into the sun through his eyelids.
“One spiced cola! One spiced cream cola!”
It was finally summer.
He sighed.
No one had even noticed his new shoes. And now they were ruined.
“Excuse me, miss?”
For once, he’d like to get a compliment on something superficial.
“Miss!”
Keshi turned to see the girl at the window, who held out two iced bags of soda with straws.
“Your drinks.”
“Thanks!”
Keshi dodged a tangle of pedestrians as he jogged over to the young man, who was leaning against a railing along the crowded sidewalk—two oversized shopping bags dangling from his fingertips.
“Thanks for holding my stuff. You sure you don’t want one?”
He shook his head.
“Too sweet.”
Keshi made a face.
“I bet you feel so cool saying that.”
As they made their way through the shopping district, Keshi lifted the left straw to his lips. The cold drink tingled his tongue and throat as he swallowed. He exhaled, satisfied.
“This one’s good. You can really taste the spiced whatever’s in there.”
He quickly sipped from the other one.
“MMMMmmm! This one too! But creamy. You sure you don’t wanna try?”
“You should save your money.”
Keshi furrowed his brow, then looked away, not really caring.
“For what?”
“Did you really need two?”
Keshi looked down at the soda pouches in each hand.
“I don’t like feeling like I chose wrong.”
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
KSSHHHH
Ren stepped through the doors to the command station. Any trace of tiredness had gone—her whole body buzzed with electricity.
The mission wasn’t over. There would be no resting until they’d recovered Emi.
“Yuki. What’s her status?”
Yuki sat at her console, a blanket draped over her shoulders, both hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.
“Commander. She’s stabilized back at N4. Monitoring for changes.”
“Finally done punishing yourself?”
Ren turned to see Akashi, leaning over Atsu’s shoulder, eyes fixed on the holo-display.
She ignored him.
“Atsu. What about Keshi Kagami?”
Akashi cut in.
“Atsu was just showing me his profile. Interesting kid.”
He turned and held out a steaming paper cup.
“Coffee?”
Ren gave him a probing look.
“I’m fine.”
Akashi shrugged, blowing on the rim. He scooped up Atsu’s empty mug before wandering off.
“He’s a runaway.”
Atsu’s voice refocused Ren’s attention. She leaned in over his shoulder as he continued.
“No family. None he’s in contact with, anyway.”
Ren watched as Atsu combed through photos and messages from Keshi’s phone and social media.
“No education or employment. Very small social footprint.”
Atsu leaned back in his chair.
“In a sense, we lucked out.”
“You’re saying no one will notice he’s gone.”
“That’s right.”
Ren’s gaze dropped to the floor.
“You know…”
Akashi set Atsu’s mug back on its coaster—pure creamer, his usual.
“Ah. Thanks.”
“...in more ways than one, his case is a lot like Emi’s.”
Ren watched the pale liquid slosh around. Whether it was Atsu’s drink, the pill, or Akashi’s words, she couldn’t tell—but she felt suddenly nauseous.
“Whatever this kid’s story is, it seems he’d already disappeared.”
Akashi took a sip from his own stained mug and exhaled, head cocked slightly.
“And now we’re the ones who found him.”
Mamoru’s voice interrupted on the neural comms line.
【Commander. Abdominal surgery was a success. He’ll live.】
Ren stared into the eyes of Keshi’s ID.
“Lucky him.”
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
In the operating room, Mamoru watched as a laser scalpel made an incision along the back of Keshi’s head.
【Installing the Ichor now.】
【Good. Keep me posted.】
【Yes, Commander.】
The arm of the surgical bot rotated to a pronged hand. In it—a one-centimeter, transparent ring. Several thin, synthetic microfibers extended out from its base, curled tight like the legs of a dead spider.
Peripheral forceps retracted the scalp along the incision, exposing a pale crescent of bone. The pronged hand then slid the implant into place, flush against the skull. As it made contact, the clear microfibers unfurled, splaying outward beneath the skin.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
“That girl was yelling at you for like thirty seconds before you noticed.”
Keshi tugged on the train handgrip, letting his weight swing him back and forth. The young man stood just inside the door, leaning against the wall and bench partition.
“What girl?”
“When you bought the drinks.”
“So? That’s her job. It’s a loud place.”
For a moment, the young man said nothing, staring out the window. Then, under his breath:
“That’s not life, you know.”
Keshi answered flatly.
“Sorry, what? I can’t hear you.”
“Sometimes, you still choose wrong.”
Keshi rolled his eyes.
Great. He’s in one of his moods.
The young man turned his head, looking over Keshi’s shoulder.
“Emi.”
Keshi turned to look behind him.
“Excuse me…”
Keshi quickly pulled his hips in, making room for the old woman, who hobbled over to the empty priority seat.
“Oops. S’cuse me.”
“How do you go through life so oblivious?”
Keshi frowned, twisting the strap to turn himself away.
“Dunno. Seems like I’m doing just fine, though.”
He stared at the shadows inside the train car, watching them grow long in the afternoon light.
“Yeah, until something catches you off guard, and you end up seriously hurt.”
Keshi’s brow furrowed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He snapped around.
“Why did you say that?”
The young man didn’t respond.
“You want something bad to happen to me? To teach me a lesson?”
“Keep your voice down.”
The young man turned his head and looked around. Keshi did too, but no one else was there on the steps. Dead leaves blew across the ground between them.
After lighting a cigarette, the young man stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets.
“I’m trying to teach you some sense.”
There he goes with that stupid word.
“You’re the only one that has a problem with my ‘sense.’ My clothes. How I talk. What I eat—where I stand!”
Again, the young man looked around, self-conscious. Keshi didn’t care, he was going to shout—make a scene. That was the one thing that seemed to bother him.
“I’ve been told I have great sense!”
The young man let out a sarcastic laugh.
“By who? Him?”
Keshi played dumb.
“Him? Who’s Him?”
“Never mind. I’m not going to fight.”
“Then stop picking them—literally all the time!”
Keshi turned away. The lamps flickered on, illuminating the steps in a hazy yellow glow. He shivered as a chill cut through his coat.
“And if it weren’t for him, you’d be out on the street. At least then, you’d have a reason to act like a crazy person!”
As Keshi stood there, scowling, he heard the young man’s voice in his left ear.
“You’re mad I didn’t go.”
“You said you would.”
Keshi sniffled his nose, which was starting to run.
“I told you. I can’t do it alone.”
The young man’s reply came cold and monotone.
“If you need me to tag along, it says more about you than me.”
Keshi turned in disgust to see the young man staring back at him with a deadpan expression.
“It’s not like she’s going anywhere.”
The words sent a pulse through the air.
Keshi felt them resonate through his entire body, vibrating his teeth and internal organs like a tuning fork—before blowing past—rustling the autumn foliage behind him.
He heard a ringing in his ears as the air was sucked from his lungs. Flashes of light crackled in the corners of his vision as the lamps burned brighter and brighter, until he could barely see.
As he stared into the young man’s eyes, he tried to hold on.
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
Ren continued scrolling through Keshi’s profile on Atsu’s display.
Behind her, Yuki slouched at her console, cheek pressed into her arm as she stared sleepily into space. She had just closed her eyes in a wide yawn when an ethereal tone emitted from the 3D holo-display.
Startled, she jerked upright.
Ren, thinking Yuki had fallen, abruptly spun around.
Then she saw it.
Emi’s ego signature—rotating in its gentle spiral.
“Akashi!”
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
Emi opened her eyes to see him—standing there on the steps, just as she remembered.
His words still rang in her head.
A lump rose in her throat—then a pain, which quickly gave way to anger. Without warning, she took off down the stairs.
His voice called out after her.
“Hold on!”
She just kept running—not looking at her feet, skipping every other step, ice-cold breaths searing her lungs—a blur in the night.
That was the meanest thing he’d ever said.
“Emi!”
She fought back tears. Before she hit the bottom, she twisted around, clutching the handrail with both hands.
“Why do you treat me like this?!”
“Like what?”
“A threat!”
【Commander Sasaki, Ichor installed.】
A strange voice rippled across the sky—warped, and buzzing with static.
Emi froze, her anger dissolving into confusion.
“Did you hear that?”
He didn’t answer.
【We know. Her signature just reappeared.】
“There. You don’t hear that?”
Emi looked up at the dark clouds overhead.
【I was worried. She passed out halfway through.】
【Pulling her now.】
“Hey, lie down.”
As her gaze fell, she saw him—lying beside her on a blanket in the park.
That powerful aching feeling returned.
“You’re missing the show.”
She turned to see fireworks in the distance.
A massive eruption of yellow and magenta flared out above the city skyline.
Something was bothering her a second ago, but she couldn’t remember what it was.
“It’s beautiful…”
For a moment, she just sat there, basking in the feeling.
It had been a long time since she’d felt it.
Knowing that her entire future was still ahead of her. All that possibility. So many nights still yet to come.
“I’m starting to feel it again.”
The young man stared ahead, fireworks bursting in his eyes.
“The heavy weight.”
When he was like this, Emi thought he looked like a lost little kid. She slowly lay back down, resting her head on his armpit.
“You know what you’re supposed to do when that happens?”
She felt the warmth of his cheek pressing against her hair.
“What?”
Emi wrapped her hands around his from behind, intertwining their fingers, then pulling them back.
She took in a deep breath, then pushed both of their hands outward.
“Puuuuuusshhh.”
As she did, the night sky began to warp and stretch.
One by one, the stars shot back into a single fixed point in space.
Then—slowly—the whole world followed. A rushing filled Emi’s ears, then a roar, as every last light, shadow, sound, and soul in Tokyo poured into Heaven at once.
She could barely hear his voice as he said:
“I’m not sure how much longer I can do this.”