Saikawa Ran

Ran sat at the edge of the pond and took in the artificial landscape around him. It wasn’t complete yet, but it would become paradise. Their shared paradise. He’d hounded potential investors for months, years, until they’d sprung the funds to get their initial trials rolling, and now that they could live off the license revenue, Kyourin Laboratories could finally start working on Eisaku’s dream. And in turn, they would also fulfill Ran’s dream. He watched Eisaku enter the greenhouse, and his face lit up as he spotted Ran.

Yes, there was nothing Ran wouldn’t do for his dream to provide Eisaku with everything he ever wanted in life. He’d use anything he had: His mind, his body, the very blood in his veins.

If Eisaku asked, he’d flay himself open.

——

There… there was a rat, suspended in liquid, which filled a glass cylinder. A light shone onto it, casting stark shadows, dividing its body into bright white and inky black. It hung motionless, as if dead, suspended in a tangle of plant growth that looked like hair algae, on which tiny, white blooms were dotted like pearls. Behind it, a row of identical cylinders were situated, each with different aquatic plants, some like fern, some like moss.

Ito stood to the side and crossed his arms.

“That’s the main reason for our NDA.”

“Are they dead?”

“On the contrary. They’re starting to live again.”

He outlined the ideas, promising Shohei would have access to the files later. These animals were literal lab rats. Each of them had a defect in their systems, which would be impossible to cure by modern standards. The more he talked about the thesis, the wider Shohei’s eyes grew.

“So it’s not suspended animation,” he said.

“Correct. Well, there are some parts that are suspended, but the body needs to work together with the cure, and for that it can’t stop completely. These rats are short term subjects, but longer term are connected to more systems that for example stimulate the muscles from time to time.”

Shohei put a hand on the glass. “So the vision is to step into one of these, go to sleep, and wake up cured.”

Ito nodded. The fur of the rat stood up in the vicious liquid, like floating in zero gravity. They had some things at university that were pretty… out there. It was a place to research, after all. But nothing like this.

Another person in the room put a tray with several portions of a reddish powder next to them, all measured out and placed on individual pieces of paper. Ito picked up one of them and sprinkled it into the water like fish food. The particles seeped down, like slow falling sand, streaks of red and black dropping into the plants.

“You’ll get your own series of rats, all in a neutral medium. No defects. It’s just about the compatibility of the developed nutritional supplements. These ones work sufficiently, the better the body is supplied with what it needs, the better the therapy works.”

“I understand. So that’s the supplement made from termite mushrooms?”

“Yes. Due to its unique properties, the body can absorb it from the water and at the same time it nourishes the plants that are responsible for the therapy.”

Shohei took a look around the room. “So it really is all natural.”

“Even the thickened water.”

“… how do you deliver oxygen?”

“You better read the documentation before we’re here all day. This week is set aside for onboarding on this experiment series, and from next week you’ll work closely with Kyourin-sensei to further refine the supplement.”

“You must be pretty sure I’ll be willing to stay on, if you’re giving me access to all of this already.”

Ito shrugged. “You’ve signed a pretty airtight NDA. Besides, Sensei said you’ll stay, and he’s never been wrong.”

“What made him believe that?”

“I’m not sure you’ll like the answer.”

Shohei frowned. “Tell me.”

“He said you have nothing but the work. It would be impossible for you to walk away because everything else would be empty.”

It hurt to be perceived so clearly, but Kyourin was right.

“He lives here, doesn’t he?”

“Sensei has rooms in the facility, yes. He stays over more often than not. But it’s not my place to talk about his situation.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. I owed you that bit of information for the mean comment,” Ito replied.

“You just repeated it, he said it.”

Ito reached for the other powder portions and carefully distributed them between the rest of the entangled rats.

“Don’t hold it against him, please. Sensei is… We all really like working for him. You’ll get used to it.”

“I won’t. He wasn’t wrong.”

Ito’s smile was deep and nostalgic. “He never was. About any of us. You should have access to the data from your account. Take some time to get into it. If you have any questions, you can always ask me or reach out to the people mentioned directly. Oh, are you coming to lunch with my team? Kyourin-sensei won’t be on site today.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

——

Shohei had grabbed his tablet and retreated to one of the coffee nooks he had found. With such a large facility and so few people, he sometimes walked through the hallways without meeting anyone. It didn’t feel like the place was deserted—rather like everyone disappeared all of a sudden. It was odd, but at the same point strangely tranquil. So many things were automated, the rooms never completely quiet. Ventilation, electricity, processing, running water… Shohei felt like he was sitting in the belly of a large, mechanical beast. And yet everything Kyourin Laboratories produced was completely natural.

The experiment series was titled Lazarus. Shohei was soon so engrossed, he missed lunch time and jumped in surprise when Ito called him to ask where he was. His team was very familiar with the project and answered his countless questions over their shared meal.

“How long have you been working on the rats?” he asked around a mouthful of curry rice.

“About five years. There’s lots of room for error and so many variables to consider. A proper series with relevant results takes months to produce,” one of Ito’s team members by the name of Akiyama said. “We’ve made progress in the area of plant composition. And of course everything will be much better when nutrition improves.”

Ito nodded. “Sensei isn’t letting anyone touch his mushrooms. Says they’re too delicate. So we relied on him alone. But now that you’re here, there should be more progress.”

Shohei looked at the almost empty plate. Had he really ended up here by chance? He didn’t say it out loud.

“There’s a lot to read first,” he said.

“Yes, regarding the Lazarus part… but you only need a rough idea of it for now. The rest will come in time. Your area should be more familiar to you. Once you’ve gone through everything today, Kyourin-sensei will give you some first tasks tomorrow.”

“Oh, he’ll be back then?”

Akiyama looked at Ito, who shook his head.

“Yes, he’ll be back tomorrow,” Ito confirmed.

—--

Shohei excused himself to continue reading after lunch. He watched Ito and his team disappear into their lab and walked on, aiming to find another place to sit. He entered the temperate greenhouse, walked by the koi pond, and found another exit. Behind it was a short hallway, which led out to a terrace, which was overlooking Tokyo Bay. Several metal chairs were arranged there, around a table with an ashtray. Ah, so he found the smoker’s corner. Well, there was no one there and the weather was great, so he settled in.

He opened the documents, scrolled a little and… There he was again. That man from the photo on Kyourin’s desk. This time in a picture of his own, standing knee deep in water, holding up plant fronds. The photo was titled ‘China Research Excursion June 2019’. Shohei read through the names mentioned, but there were too many to tell who this person was.

“He left me…” Shohei whispered as he zoomed in on the picture.

The same soft smile, looking towards somewhere off camera. Shoulder-length hair bound to a ponytail. He seemed… warm. Open. Shohei tried to imagine him and Kyourin together and failed. They were just too different. Even if he had seen them in the same photo.

When he asked Ito about the man in the photo later that day, the other paused for a moment, started to talk, then stopped again. Finally he sighed.

“That’s Saikawa-sensei. He… is no longer with us.”

“He died?”

“No, he left the lab.”

“Oh,” Shohei said.

“It’s been a few years. Most of the people working here right now didn’t know him. He was the co-founder. Don’t rack your brain. Saikawa-sensei is not listed anywhere as such. And… don’t ask Kyourin-sensei about him, please.”

“Alright.”

Shohei didn’t have to ask why. Between ‘He left me.’ and his name being erased, he had a pretty good idea of what happened.