T -10 Years, 6 Months, 7 Days
The boy watched his father from behind his mother's leg. His mother had a gentle hand resting against his father's forearm while the waves beyond them brought a distant crashing noise. The cold of the starless night was only felt by the boy's father.
"You don't have to do this..." She tried to reassure. "We can tell him..." The boy's mother looked down upon his soft black hair and then reached down and picked up the child. "We can tell him to be more careful."
The boy, too young to comprehend, curiously stared at the weary look on her face.
"I want to hold my son, Yon," the boy's father said simply. "I will... I will make this sacrifice in order to be like you."
"You won't be like me." The boy's mother gripped the boy tightly against her side while looking into the face of the boy's father. The boy followed the look and smiled sweetly at his dad. His father smiled back. "You'll be strong, and have access to momentum field technology, but you won't have the resilience that him and I have. You're not genetically pure."
"I know," the boy's father said with a solemn nod. "But I don't need to have your resilience, only your strength."
The boy's mother clenched her jaw and nodded. "It will hurt..." She said, her eyes tearing up.
"I know it will." The boy's father let out a nervous sigh. "I mean... the thought of being ripped apart on a molecular level doesn't really sound like something I want to do on a daily basis, but..." He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw tightly. "But I'll do it, for him."
"You're doing it for yourself," the boy's mother reminded.
"Having a physical connection with my son isn't just for me," the boy's father tried to explain.
"I know..." the boy's mother nodded.
She knelt down and put the boy down and put her hands on his tiny shoulders.
"Satoshi... we're going to go to the Keep now. Can you hold onto my hand while we fly?"
The boy looked at her, a little confused, but understanding the meaning of the sentence.
"Is this..." The boy's smile disappeared. "Is this because I hurt daddy again?"
The boy's father came and stood beside the two of them and knelt down. "No... no..." The boy's father put his arm on his knee. "Don't think of that, Son."
The mother stepped aside and stood a practiced distance away. The boy's father took the boy's hand and looked lovingly into his eyes.
"I'm okay," he said, bravely. "And you know how strong you are, but there are things out there that you don't know and there are things that you need to be protected from and... me... as your dad... I should protect you."
"But... but... I keep hurting you..." The boy began to tear up a bit.
"I know, I know," his father said, drawing his hand through his black hair. "And that's just a sign of how strong you are and how much you'll be able to do when you become big and strong like me."
The boy smiled at that idea.
"But..." The father's face fell a bit. "Do you remember how we always talk about how other people can't do what you can do?"
The boy nodded.
"When they see me all hurt, they start to ask questions and those questions might lead them to finding out that you hurt me and then... well..." His father shook his head. "That won't happen."
"But... I can be better, I can..."
"No no," the boy's father said gently, putting his hand on the boy's cheek. "This isn't your fault. If I thought it was your fault, I would send you and mom to live in the Keep, but..." The boy's father shook his head. "It's not your fault."
The boy looked over to his mother as she held her head low in reverence. In that sort of impossible way of non-verbal communication between son and mother, he could tell that what his father said was true.
"Okay..." the boy said, looking back to him. "I... I'm sorry..."
"I know you didn't mean it," the boy's father said, patting his shoulder gently. "And that's why I know it's not your fault."
The boy's wide eyes stared into his and the boy nodded.
"Now... can you be brave and hold onto mom's hand while she takes us to the Keep?"
The boy nodded again, this time a little more vigorously.
"Okay..." The boy's father stood and looked over at the boy's mother. The mother came back over and looked between them.
She let her hand down and the boy took it. The father didn't move in any way to grasp the other hand. Instead, the three of them simply floated up under the mother's direction. She looked out, to the east, and then with a singular breath, she accelerated, causing the three of them to disappear in a blur. All that was left behind was three footprints, slowly getting washed away by the tide, and the sound of an endlessly crashing chaotic ocean.
T - 8 months, 26 days, 11 hours, 42 minutes
That memory had been slightly harsh—not a great reminder of his fate, but it wasn't a bad memory either. The memory after that, the moment his father had accepted the black crystalline structure into the base of his skull, was far more horrifying, but that memory wasn't entirely real. Most of it was a nightmare.
But the memory before it was real enough. The love in his eyes, the hope in his heart, the endurance and sacrifice he was going to have to make. His fathers friends had been concerned and been asking too many questions after he came into work, strangely bruised for the fifth time that month. He had accepted the power willingly, perhaps too eagerly the more Satoshi remembered the event, but it had done it’s job. He could now look after his son on the same level as his wife, and his friends stopped asking uncomfortable questions. They also began to trickle away, since he gained far more power than any of them would ever have.
He tried not to think of his father anymore, but he couldn't help himself. He was here because of him. His father had given up the social life of a human for the innate power of a god. His father had shunned his family, all because he was greater than them all. He had achieved the dream of mortals long past, immortality and strength beyond measure, and now he was gone because of it.
He thought about the ease at which his mother had convinced his family that he had moved to America and never wanted to see them again. The ease at which his job accepted his resignation completely over the phone. The ease at which reality seemed to be shaped to his mother's will. He had always feared the Keep, and now he had a name to that fear. It was a power greater than him that could do this. It was the power of his mother.
And yet here he sat, in this sterile hospital waiting room, having flown halfway across Japan on an impulse he couldn't name. The very thing his father's transformation was meant to prevent—exposure, questions, the unraveling of their carefully constructed lies—and Satoshi had risked it all for what? A dying woman who might not even remember him?
He felt the expectation in his periphery. The receptionist's eyes lingered on him—a teenager, alone. The strange look of someone who had brought nothing with him. It was a small coastal town hospital, but that shouldn’t have changed the fact that it was inherently strange. Something was off about him, but she was too tired to care and Satoshi was too internally focused to think of any more decent lies. Still, the nurse would be aware of the strangeness
"Iragawa-san?" A nurse asked with a prim voice.
Satoshi stood and looked at her passively.
"We just put her down to sleep, but I think she's still awake enough to see you." She turned and opened the door softly. "Follow me, please."
Satoshi walked behind her and examined the sterile white halls of the hospital. It seemed perfect and neat, like the buildings he admired on his walk to the station every morning, but this perfect clean whiteness felt different. This perfection was lit by fluorescence and the necessity to hide death. It was like a white sheet, covering a corpse.
Satoshi felt disgusted at that image and needed to think of something else.
"Is she getting any better?"
"No..." The nurse said honestly, though with a lilt of pain behind her voice. "Her condition has worsened since Korokai-san's visit."
"I see..." Satoshi nodded.
"I would suggest you tell Takeshi-san to see her soon," she said honestly.
"I'll let him know," Satoshi said without any energy in his voice.
They walked through the halls, Satoshi's mind now caught on the concept of the lie he had just told her, and that thought satiated him until they reached the room. She opened the door, ushered him in, bowed, and politely left.
Satoshi took a few more steps over to the bed and looked longingly at his grandmother.
"Hello, grandma..." Satoshi sat down beside her and watched as she turned her head to him.
"Takeshi...?" She asked.
"No Oba... it's me... Satoshi."
She had a look of confusion on her face but it was a look she had grown accustomed to. She wore her confusion well, and she was able to smile at Satoshi, despite not recognizing him.
"It's good to see you."
"You as well..." Satoshi took her hand and massaged it gently. "Are you doing okay? Are they treating you well?"
"Yes... yes... very fine... very good..." She nodded, her eyes searching the ceiling for something unseen. "How is my boy doing?" she asked, her voice wavering.
"Takeshi is fine grandma..." Satoshi lied again. "You'll see him soon..." He hoped.
"That's good..." She nodded. "And how are you?"
Satoshi smiled. It sounded like a genuine question.
"I'm doing fine grandma..." Satoshi said evenly. "I... I just wanted to see you and... and talk."
"They tell me Takeshi moved to America." Her tone let out a little whine but it was incomplete and non-descript. "I wish I could see him..."
"You will grandma... You will." Satoshi tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it felt strange and so he relented. "Do... Do you know who I am?"
She turned her elderly eyes towards him. "Of course." She smiled and reached out a hand to Satoshi's face. "You're my son..."
Satoshi smiled at that. He tried to picture how much his face must resemble his father's. It was an interesting test. Every perfect feature of his face, his firm jaw, his glorious cheekbones, his symmetry, was all his mother's. His gaunt eyes, his rounded nose, his slightly sallow cheeks, were all his father's. And yet she recognized the imperfections.
"Yes..." He put a hand to hers on his cheek and felt her warmth honestly. "Yes I am."
"I'm so proud of you..." She said honestly, it being a sort of blessing. "Your... your family..." She closed her eyes and Satoshi looked at her intensely. "I'm sorry I didn't approve of Yuri..."
"What?" Satoshi asked, confused.
“Takeshi…? Are you Takeshi…? Or are you… Satoshi-kun?” She asked, oblivious to her previous statement.
Satoshi wanted to press her further, he wanted to get her to tell him what had happened all those years ago. "It's okay... " Satoshi said, drawing his hand away. He didn't like to lie like this, but at the same time, what else was he going to do? "grandma...?" He asked.
"Satoshi...?" She turned, looking back to him.
"Yes, grandma, It's me, Satoshi..."
“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I don’t remember everything clearly anymore.” she said, her eyes vacant of any understanding. “But…but it’s good to see you”
"You too..." he said lightly.
"How has your father been?"
Satoshi smiled. The understanding on his end was easy enough. She had a singular regret at the end of her life and it was the only thing she could remember.
"He's doing well."
"And you?"
"I'm doing well too grandma..." Satoshi clenched his jaw and looked away from her confused eyes.
Satoshi stood, gently, and patted her on her hand. She looked at him, trying to understand what he was doing. If he was being honest with himself, he really didn't know either.
The door opened slightly and a middle-aged woman stepped in. Satoshi looked at her and she looked at him.
"Satoshi?" She asked.
"Reiko?" He asked back.
Hurriedly she went and put the small collection of things she had brought down and came over to Satoshi. She pulled him out of the room with a firm grip. He was too surprised to respond in any meaningful way.
"Where is he?" She asked firmly as soon as the door closed. "Your father?"
Satoshi looked into her intense, burning, brown eyes. "In America," he said lifelessly.
"Yes, I know that you silly boy, but where?"
"I..." He looked back at the door the two of them had just left. "I don't think he would want to come..." Satoshi looked at the ground, next to Reiko's feet.
"Wh..." She stopped, realizing that Satoshi was serious. "Why not?"
"He told you all that he never wanted to return, isn't that correct?"
"I..." Her intense demeanor faltered a bit. "Even to her funeral?"
"He said he was never going to return, and..." Satoshi turned and looked out one of the windows feeling a pain covering his soul which disrupted everything he knew about himself. "He will stick to that promise."
"Of all the..." She seethed. "Look, she's asking for him, she wants him to come."
"He can't," Satoshi said angrily. "He... he can't come back to face what he did."
"Well, then why did you?"
Satoshi looked at the door and then back to her with a panicked expression. He broke himself free from her grip and shook his head. "I shouldn't have come here."
"Nonsense," Reiko blew off the comment. "Just because your father's forgotten his family doesn't mean you have too."
Satoshi winced at the statement, but remained silent, understanding more than Reiko would ever be allowed to know.
"Where are you staying tonight? Where did you come from?" She asked.
"I... uh..." Satoshi hadn't thought about the lie he would have to tell in this situation.
"Also, did you travel all the way up here just to see her? It's a long way from Tokyo."
"I..." He had to think quickly. "I was just stopping by, I'm on a field trip with my class and... I took a bit of a detour." He didn't like the holes that could be poked in that story but he had said it so here it was. "In fact..." He began again. "In fact I've probably been here too long, I should get going." He pushed past her.
"Absolutely not," Reiko said firmly, grasping his shoulder with both hands now. "A school trip? What kind of chaperones let a student wander off alone to visit a dying relative? Where are they staying? I need to call them immediately." Her voice grew more intense. "Satoshi, you cannot travel back alone at night. It's completely unacceptable. You'll stay with us, and I'll personally speak to your teachers tomorrow to explain the family emergency." She pulled out her phone. "What's your school's name? Your homeroom teacher? This is exactly the kind of irresponsible behavior your father would pull, and I won't allow it."
"I..." Satoshi was too flustered to say anything reasonable. "No... No... I... I have to go," he said quickly, pacing his way firmly through the doors and out into the waiting area again.
He began running as soon as he got to the street and he began hovering as soon as he made sure no one was watching him. Again, another insane burst of speed carried him forward and it felt like the world simply moved from under his feet. Carefully, flying low and close to the ocean, he kept out of radar range. He tried not to think of anything other than the flying, he tried not to think of the mistakes he may have made. He tried not to imagine what Reiko might say to Korokai. Those things would all sort themselves out. Maybe he could convince her that it had all been some sort of dream or delusion, a ghost appearing shortly before a death, or something similar.
He made an arching curve, approaching low and quick, as he noticed the glowing lights of the city. He passed silently over ships, over fishing boats, and eventually down just a few meters from the ocean surface. With this much light in the sky, it would be easier for him to be spotted, but luckily he knew which way to head, so it made him able to accomplish it at nearly super-sonic speeds without remaining too long to establish visual contact.
He saw the lights of the artificial island and the telltale flicker of the arcade. He saw the lights stretching out onto the ocean, he calculated about how far he had walked before he came down to the ocean surface and with a burst of reversed acceleration he collided with the sandy shore he had left hours ago.
He translated all his internal momentum to the top of the ocean. With careful practice and directed intention, he made sure every ounce of pressure being exerted on him by his own movements was pushed in the opposite direction of the waves and the air around him. The resulting effect was that a bubble of motionless air and glass smooth water appeared. If it had been day and tourists and beach goers had been here, it would have stuck out like a blotch of ink on white paper, but because of the cover of night, all that happened was a brief cessation of noise and then the waves returned to their normal lapping roar.
Satoshi took steps back onto the beach, quickly hustling over to his bag and taking it away. His heart was beating insanely quickly, not from the flight—he had actually been calm going through the familiar repeatable motions—but now that that was over, he had to consider everything that he had done wrong. Did anyone see him, did anyone catch him on video, did his story not match up? Only Reiko and some hospital staff knew he had come up there, but they could be easily pawned off into believing some simple story. What Satoshi eventually came to, after all his consideration, was the question as to why he had done it.
He asked himself that question as he came to a light jog and began to calm himself down. What had motivated him to go all the way to his grandmother's and see her? Was it some internalized desire for validation? For camaraderie? For family? Everything inside himself told him how stupid this decision was, that it was an impulsive emotional decision and that there would be repercussions for it. Repercussions involving infinite confusion for Reiko, repercussions involving unwanted questions about the location of his father. If he had just gone home, he wouldn't be facing this threat, so he had to come up with a good reason why he had done something so stupid.
He didn't have a reason, he eventually figured it out, and it caused him to pause.
The same impulse that had driven his father to that beach ten years ago—the need to bridge an impossible gap, to reach across the chasm between what they were and what they yearned to be. His father had sought connection through transformation, through pain. Satoshi had sought it through memory, through the dying embers of a woman who saw his father's face in his own.