Souls filled with darkness,
Blessed be the one who flees,
From the devourer.
-Gaito Otsuka
Suzushii Katsu cried sometimes. Sometimes, and this was the most intent keyword upon establishing within one's memory and focus. If you cried, at least do so on a sometimes level, his mother had taught him, so that you save tears for others who need them. She had said this because she believed that all tears were connected, all across the world, that pain was a singular entity, distributed across a body of millions, and that it gave regards to certain individuals at certain times in its endless parade of sadness. If Katsu spent all of his time grieving, he left no tears for others who desperately needed them.
In the 25th year of his life, Katsu understood the simple truth that tears were irrelevant when given specific origins such as sadness, instead seeing that his mother had been wrong when, standing at the front of the crowd assembled in the Western chapel of Christ, his wife Mai stepped into view for the first time in her elaborately glorifying, pale pink kimono, the snow lightly drifting down outside, magnifying the intensity of the pale spirit of beauty that came to him, now, fulfilling his exploration of tears of happiness. He remembered weeping, and he remembered buckling under some weight that threatened to break his knees so that the effect could have some form of permanent meaning.
So he learned that crying was an essential element to life. In the 30th year of his life, he learned to cry for all manner of things, never desiring to simply categorize tears into sadness and joy. Infertility, for example, were tears of anguish in consideration to Mai's deep, dark pain. Discovery into the proper elements needed to compose a basic compound that highlighted the fire of curing one of the most dangerous diseases known to man? These had birthed tears of mad, ecstatic, energized victory, insanity in glee, tickled and finely pronounced. Tears were an incategorizable anomaly.
Nevertheless, they held the most significant meaning in the 35th year. The tears he shed then marked the start of something deeper and darker: permanent anguish.
Katsu and Mai Suzushii,
We need to speak urgently at Tokyo Metropolitan Matsuzawa Hospital. The test results have confirmed a danger and it would be better to speak with you both in person. I'll need to see Mai again for a screening, and would ask that you keep a level head as I explain the nature of our discovery. Please schedule a meeting with me at the next possible time for you both, as this matter is extremely important.
In respect,
Dr. Aido Matsuda
The 35th year meant much to Katsu in terms of the power of tears. And now Mai felt its harsh breathe upon the back of her neck. Dr. Matsuda at first brought them into a small, green room, one that displayed orangutans and elephants painted onto the lime world, happily swinging on vines over a river of applauding crocodiles. The chair in which the good doctor sat Mai was comfortable in how squishy its red leather could be, and the cup of hot coffee he had offered them both still, to this day, in the deepest, darkest part of Katsu's memory, smelled heavily of genuine Costa Rican.
Katsu could remember sipping away at that coffee, remembered its fine, non-illusioned taste… and it had meant everything to him. Simplicity, normality, a time for taste.
Then the doctor had spoken. Had told them the truth. And the truth…well, coffee just never tasted the same again.
She's going to die…if I don't do something.
She's going to die…if you do.
Men in white coats think highest of their ventures, and in the long run, foresee a possible future bent according to the dictations of their will, unquestioned. Katsu was no exception.
At first, the Banshee syndrome was a small tumor growing steadily in the right hemisphere of Mai's brain, sending only miniature shockwaves through her nervous system that resulted in little screams as her vocals were hijacked. Katsu remembered just how small these had been, and how significant it had been that they must stay small. At night, she would awaken from her sleep and scream out, sometimes in pain, sometimes in pre-pain as her body became unpredictable. Over time, she could not function without the morphine shots.
Her skin paled. Her eyes became glossy. Day by day, Mai fell deeper and deeper into a degrading, zombified state. Soon her mind began to go with her body.
What else could I have done?
So the war began.
She stared at him from the other side of the glass…or at least, he liked to pretend that she was. In fact, her eyes were closed. Closed, and lost to the world. She was nothing, could be nothing, not now, perhaps never again… Suspended in frozen animation, in her own frozen world, how could she ever be anything less than a true statue, without purpose anymore? He hated her. He hated her for being a statue. Despised her, loathed every idea of her… and collapsed, again and again, at the foot of her capsule, screaming in anguish, as his desperation to have her back overwhelmed her.
But what else could he do but scream?
He did not collapse today. Merely stared and stared and stared until even that became too much, and he silently turned away, pretending that he had concluded an important discussion on the ethics of polar bear hunting, leaving her to dance. Dance, dance, dance forever.
Takeshi Aido was bent over a worktable, sparks shooting upward from the little welding torch that he held as he sealed up a rift in Katsu's latest achievement. The device was perfection, a decade's worth of precision and study. Its exterior was cylindrical, solid gray with a black handle and a little trigger, its top portion protruding a smaller cylindrical nozzle. Quite a simple, stupid aesthetics, but it was a tool, not a canvas. Katsu stopped briefly and regarded the device.
Simple black lettering decorated the device's side: Cryonic Emitter.
Aido glanced up at him as he stood there, staring at the thing with lust in his eyes.
"Get yourself a coffee," was the young man's suggestion. "You look shitty."
Katsu nodded. "If I look shitty, it means I've done my job. You want coffee?"
"Had some already… we're out of sweeteners. Don't drink it black."
Katsu turned away from him. "I hate coffee…" He began to walk towards the small little kitchen area that they had established in this large, dark chamber of a workspace, so cold and silent in their dim little world. He ignored the coffee maker and instead rifled through the fridge. Pepsi Refresh Shot stared at him accusingly… and he managed a very weak smile back at it, stealing it out of its frigid container and inhaling the energy drink. He glanced up into the mirror above the kitchen sink.
An old man stared back at him. At the age of forty-nine, Suzushii Katsu looked fifty-nine. His skin was as pale as the ice that dominated his lab, his wrinkles so elegantly crafted onto his withering face. Hard, bloodshot eyes from a sleepless night stared back at him. Thinning black hair hung pathetically, what was left of it. It was safe to say that, without a doubt, he would be dead within just a few short years if today did not go well. And it had to go well. It had to.
Because his time was limited. The Banshee had made sure to hop onto him before Mai had gone into her deep sleep. Working with one's love…often attributed the ailments of said love. But Mai had meant it not. She had never intended Katsu to contract the disease from her weakened body. He never blamed her once…
But his time was running short. Already, his body moved weakly and painfully, an old man's lumber, his stomach disoriented, his mind a wanderer. Mai's life was now tied to Katsu's.
His cellular fired off classical music from the kitchen counter, and he painfully shuffled his way towards the little black device. Aido looked up anxiously.
"Katsu," Katsu answered weakly.
"Mr. Suzushii, I am pleased to inform you that Mr. Takehiko is on his way now. We've just entered the complex."
Katsu's heart sang. At last. Akio Takehiko was on his way.
"Yes," he replied quickly, straining to sound strong and coherent. "Please let yourselves in, no need to knock. We're ready to meet with you. Shall I prepare sake?"
"You have to ask?" Takehiko's young assistant replied with an air of annoyance. Katsu winced. How stupid was he, asking a question like that. Of course they would want sake. It was respectful and proper to business ethics.
"I apologize. Not thinking clearly, of course. I shall have a table prepared," he said, motioning quickly to Aido, who was already sprinting for the cabinets, "and I should like to inform Mr. Takehiko that a coat would be most wise."
"Yes, we've been told about the special nature of your lab. We are prepared. Thank you, Mr. Suzushii." And the line disconnected without even a farewell. Katsu slowly lowered the phone, feeling weaker and weaker as each second passed. Aido was setting bottles of sake in place, elegantly sat upon fine cloth, the air perfumed with sweet lavender. Katsu silently pondered on just how Akio Takehiko, the prince of Tokyo, the billionaire king of Takehiko Tech himself, would react to this frigid, winter wonderland that he lived in.
He glanced at the distant capsule, inside of which was suspended Mai, drifting up and down in the cryonic fluid, a thousand miles away from all other things. The pale blue light that emitted from her tank hit him hard, and he whispered a promise to her: "Today is the day."
He sat himself down on the leather sofa where Aido had situated the drinks, and beckoned to his young assistant. Not a moment too late. As soon as Aido found seat, the door opened, and two men entered the room.
One of them was the man that Katsu had spoken to on the phone. Thin, narrow faced and fair-haired, the hip, young man strolled in confidently in his dark blue business suit, shades pulled up over his forehead, a thin-lipped smile on his face. He gave Katsu and Aido a bow, and turned to present his boss.
Katsu's boss.
The king of Tokyo. No longer a prince, Katsu saw, but a genuine king.
Akio Takehiko was a powerfully built man. Katsu could see the powerful, muscled body wrapped tightly in the thick black suit, a grab that no doubt cost anything more than seven or eight grand. He was young too, slightly older than his assistant, but aging like fine sake, piercing dark eyes and firm, pronounced face of confidence. His black hair was gelled neatly, but he looked like a man who knew of his money and influence and chose to live with an air to each step.
Takehiko bowed to them both, and Katsu and Aido rose (Katsu far more slowly than Aido), and they both returned the bow. The pain was almost unbearable to Katsu, but he masked it well, his mission far superior to his state.
Akio studied the hall carefully, smiling to himself as he observed the armies of ice crystals that coated the ceiling and walls, taking in the large ventilation in the roof that emitted a powerful blast of cold.
"You truly are the cryonics god of this company, as they've told me," he said in a powerful, but kind voice. "I'm honored to finally see your ice palace."
Katsu grinned, chuckling softly. "A man must become one with his field if he wishes to perfect it."
"And I expect nothing less," Akio returned politely, shaking Katsu's hand and settling himself down beside his assistant, who was already drinking deeply from his sake bottle. "This is my assistant, Iwao. He'll be archiving this meeting and running numbers."
Katsu nodded, exhaling deeply and fighting to remain calm. He was so shaky on the inside. So terrified. He motioned at the emitter that lay on the table before them.
"Mr. Takehiko, I want to introduce to you the success of a decade's worth of research. Thanks to your continual allowance, I am pleased-" He faltered. Akio's gaze had briefly shifted over to the far corner of the chamber, where Mai's capsule glowed with brilliant luminescence in the dimness. He quickly looked back to the emitter, and Katsu continued, sweating, "-to inform you that the device meets company regulations and standard for field use."
"I'd like a demonstration," Akio requested, smiling encouragingly as he studied the odd device. "Have you prepared one?"
"Absolutely!" Katsu was now breathing heavily, so caught in his desperation to please the chairman and receive the funding that he needed to pursue the rest of his research. He reached forward and hoisted the device into his hands. However, as soon as he had it, the weight became too much for him, and it slipped quite loudly and violently onto the table. Bottles of sake went flying and the contents of the device rattled about excitedly. A small hissing sound issued, and a faint white mist spewed out of the top portion of the device. The mist hovered in the air for a moment, everyone staring with wide eyes, and descended back down. When it did, a small portion of the table turned icy white, suddenly covered in slowly spreading frost.
Katsu was screaming on the inside, embarrassed beyond belief. The device was not supposed to be emitting mist without the trigger being activated. Had he broken the thing when he had dropped it? His dying body often made it difficult to lift even basic objects, and he had not accounted for the device itself when pondering about this meeting.
"I'm s-sorry," he strained quickly, wiping his fingers across his balding head, forgetting that the hair there was slowly fading away into nothingness. Aido, bless his heart, quickly picked up the device, smiling. Iwao was looking one hundred percent doubtful about the competence of the two scientists, Akio sad. Aido, clearing his throat, said in a small voice, "Let me demonstrate the proper usage, shall I?" He and Katsu both noted Iwao typing fiercely into his tablet device, a smirk slowly growing on his face. He looked up and nodded casually, indicating for them to continue their little performance.
Aido, nodding encouragingly at Katsu, hoisted the device against his chest, holding it awkwardly as a child would a shotgun, aiming it at a female shaped mannequin that Katsu had painted a red target onto the breasts of.
"The emission, as you have already seen," Aido said, nodding at the frosted corner of the table, "focuses high frequencies of concentrated ice crystals, ensuring rapid spread from a three meter range."
"Show them," Katsu murmured, offering a prayer to whatever God may be listening. Not that he believed in one, except in times of desperation.
Aido squeezed the trigger of the device, and a thin, hissing stream of mist, almost invisible, spewed out like the remnants of an aerosol can and saturated the air around them with a sudden drop in temperature before the mist encountered the mannequin. The dummy, and the floor around it, along with part of the wall where the thing stood, turned white as ice crystals began to grow and cover them. Within seconds, they were sparkling with pure, chilly allure. Akio was on his feet at once, Iwao studying the ice from afar and typing something else in, a frown upon his face. The billionaire crouched down, studying every inch of the ice encased mannequin, rubbing his finger along the floor and tossing the frost aside. He looked very, very interested. Katsu smiled. He did look very interested. That was a very good sign.
"As you can see," he managed, walking over to Akio and standing beside the chairman, "this new technology could change the way we work with medicines, food storage, even on-site police and military work. The ice crystals are purified from concentrated Alligate strands, ensuring powerful resistance against UV radiation. Takehiko Tech could sell this device to the Japan Self-Defense Forces and introduce modern revolutions that could reintroduce safe, efficient firearms into the hands of our nation's defenders."
"A weapon, then?" Akio glanced at him uncertainly. "This is your vision?"
"Not at all. I merely outline the possibilities. Indeed, it works better for the medical profession and the markets. Fresher food, advanced efficiency in organ transplantation-"
"It could, couldn't it?" But Akio was not smiling. Katsu frowned. Why was he not smiling?
"You… you have had a team of inspectors give regular visits over a five-year timeline, and we've always passed inspection. You know, naturally, that this device is the result of legal means."
"I don't think Takehiko Tech is interested in selling an ice gun to the Special Forces," Iwao suddenly piped up, looking smugger than ever. "This toy gun of yours is not what we expected when we were given your ten page report. We expected something more…PC."
Katsu spun around, glaring at the man. "PC?"
Iwao nodded. "Something that held mass public appeal. Something that could not be used against the general populace."
"In the right hands, this device need not ever threaten the general populace," Aido snapped, crossing his arms. "As Katsu has said-"
"What of your wife?" Akio had broken through the argument, suddenly turning his full attention upon Mai. Katsu stared at the man, wide-eyed and confused. Biting his lip, he glanced from Akio to Mai's capsule and back to Akio again.
"M-my wife?"
"Yes. The same theoretical process that made this device possible: you utilized it in the cryogenics of that capsule. And how has she fared?"
"F-fared?" Katsu's heart was hammering. He was asking about that? Now?
Aido quickly stepped forward, grinning. "Very well, Mr. Takehiko. Katsu's technology has been tested on various, legalized subjects, dogs, cats, you name it, and the diseases-"
"We've already received your reports," Iwao cut in. "I believe what Mr. Takehiko is asking about is the expectations for Mrs. Suzushii. The connection between this project and the Banshee vaccination that you mentioned briefly in the report."
Katsu paled terribly, even more so than he usually did these days. "I…I was hoping we could discuss that, actually. The success of this device, of this project, is why my wife still lives. Frozen, asleep, but alive. The disease had been hindered because of my technology. Without it, she would already have passed. Proving that this device works efficiently, I believe that we can see a reasonable project and that I may qualify for higher funding to continue my research into Banshee. Within a matter of years, very few years, given the proper funding, I believe I could find a cure."
"That's a big if," Iwao stated. "Company funds don't do well dangling on a line you have to squint to see."
Akio looked troubled. "I…I'm afraid Iwao is right, Mr. Suzushii. We've seen the success of this emitter and I'm pleased at the results of your work with it, but I was under the impression that the emitter was not the focal point of the experiment. Merely an apparatus in which to fuel the medicinal studies."
"It is!" Katsu insisted, his voice shaking. "The capsule that contains Mai is possible because of this technology, the same technology that has given the emitter its potential. She lives because of it!"
"She lives, frozen, practically lifeless," Iwao snapped coldly…far colder than the room itself. "Our customers want thriving, active recipients, not immobile shells."
Katsu stepped forward threatening, staring Iwao down. He pointed a finger at the man. "Don't you dare call her that!" Aido stepped in between them, placing his hands upon Katsu's shoulders and squeezing.
"You have to remain calm," he breathed.
But Akio was speaking now, and he sounded sad. "I'm… I'm sorry, Mr. Suzushii. But I'm afraid we were misinformed about the nature of this conference. As much as I hate to admit it, Iwao's words are true: we cannot sell this emitter alone. The markets thrive well enough on their own and the medicinal groups want Banshee results, not… not temporary placebos."
Katsu's heart sunk. His emotions curled inward. Temporary…
"…placebos," he finished the thought aloud, turning to Akio. Turning very, very coldly. "You…you truly called my work, my success…a temporary…placebo…?"
Akio opened his mouth to apologize, but Katsu held up a hand. His expression had gone chilly. "My work," he hissed, his voice not his own, but something colder and darker, deep down in his soul, "is not temporary placebo. It is a testament to the nature of both the disease and the resources needed to combat it. This emitter is part of the beginning stages of that work: her resurrection from that frozen salvation is the end result. I need money."
"I can't," Akio said, shortly, but also difficulty. His eyes did not meet Katsu's. "Not until I have something more concrete. I'll authorize you another year and provide you with the basic, previously agreed upon numbers to ensure a comfortable-"
"WHAT!?" Katsu roared, his eyes bulging, his teeth gritting. Akio's face froze. "Another year!? On the same meager chicken feed!? I NEED THAT MONEY, TAKEHIKO!"
"Katsu!" Aido roared, trying to pull him away, but Katsu shoved him fiercely. Iwao was walking forward, reaching into his pocket as he did so. Akio held up a hand, shaking his head, holding Iwao at bay. The Taser, however, did not go back into the suit pocket.
"I'm dying!" Katsu hissed into Akio's face, his voice trembling with fear. "I'll be dead within a matter of time. I don't have long. If I die, so does my wife! Her life is tied to my own! I'm the only one who can help her, the only one who can save her! I need funding to make this possible!"
"As long as I see results-" But Akio never got any other words of that sentence out before Katsu threw himself forward. The man did not even know why he did it, but suddenly, the rage that filled Katsu made him violent, and he grabbed Akio's shoulders tightly, hissing. Iwao threw his arm out, the Taser cackling, but Akio thrust his hand forward and stayed Iwao, pushing Katsu away. Katsu stumbled backwards, falling onto the couch, accidentally knocking the emitter onto the floor. Iwao and Aido jumped backwards as a thick cloud of ice misted out of the device, chilling the air and completely freezing the table. Katsu's right shoe grew frost on its tips, but he noted it not. He was breathing heavily, his eyes closed in anguish.
He had failed. He had acted irrationally and had failed.
Akio Takehiko studied the old man for several long moments, Iwao standing very close to the chairman protectively.
"I'm so sorry," Akio whispered, sighing, and he walked away, gesturing at Iwao to follow. He stopped briefly beside Aido, whispering, "When he cools off, take him out for dinner. He needs to get out of this lab." Aido could only stare at the chairman incredulously, the young man deeply troubled. Akio passed 12,000 yen into Aido's hand, bowed deeply to them both, and soon, he and Iwao were gone. Gone just as quickly as they had come. Gone with all of Katsu's deepest hopes…