Purpose

Even so, one question kept ringing in my head with an overwhelming power.

“How did my father die?”

With a stern look in my eyes and a cold voice I asked. My question echoed in this big laboratory and I could notice each and every one of them changing their attitude. Some looked the other way, some put a worried look on their face. It seemed pretty clear to me that neither of them wanted to talk about this, even after all this time.The first one to talk was Ken:

“Look, Yoshiki, maybe we could talk about this la-"

“No!” I shouted from the top of my lungs. 

I didn’t even realize I was screaming until it was too late. My heart was pumping and I could feel tears trying extremely hard to come running down my face. 

“I need to know”, I said in a calm voice, trying to control myself to the best of my abilities.

The man that introduced himself as Yuta got up from the chair and came close to me.

“You’re weak. Seems like your father put way too much trust in you.” 

These were the only things he said before leaving the room, heading for the elevator.

“Please, forgive him. He doesn’t like to talk about Hisashi…”

 The one who spoke was Misaki, the woman with weird colored hair.

“You see, as you probably expect, Hisashi didn’t die in a car accident. He disappeared without a trace. It was a summer day, there was a light summer breeze outside. Hisashi was late to work... Hisashi is never late to work. We’ve called him, searched for him for hours on end. It was futile, he was nowhere to be found. A few days later we got a photo in the mail with some words written on the back of it…” 

As she stopped talking, I noticed Mary searching for something in a drawer. Misaki’s voice was so gentle and soothing that even though she was talking about my father’s death, she was somehow calming me and drawing me in. She was truly something else…A few seconds later, Mary approached with a photo in her hand. When she came close enough, she reached for my hand, held it at the level of my stomach and handed me the photo. Before I could take a look at it she grabbed my hand tightly and said:

“I am sorry, dear. I really am…”

Then she released my hand as soft tears started running down her cheeks. As I raised the photo, the first thing I noticed was the writing. It was messy and the person who wrote it did so in a red color that reminded me of blood.

‘He’s only the first. Put an end to this project before I put an end to you. JG’

So short, yet so meaningful. How could someone be so clear, yet so vague? What are those letters? His initials? Why would he sign this note? To what end? This seems like something out of a movie, it cannot be real.

That’s what I thought. I was so naïve, so weak. It was straight to the point and very clear, it was nothing that could be misinterpreted. Thinking back, I already knew what that photo would reveal, but I didn’t want to accept it. I stood in denial until the very moment I flipped it.

In the photo, there was a man lying on concrete. Two bullet holes were noticeable in his chest and stomach. Dressed in a dirtied business suit, with his hands tied at his back and his mouth gagged. His eyes were wide open and they almost screamed at me: ‘Help me, help me! I don’t want to die here, help me!’.

That man was my father. My beloved father, my admired mentor, my guide and protector, lying on the cold concrete with two bullets in him. My head grew heavy, my knees were getting weak and I could feel the need of throwing up.I stood like that for almost a minute, looking at the photo in disbelief. There was no way! Why? Why would he die like this? Why would someone want to murder him? Why would God let this happen? Mom and dad were always praying and going to the shrine, why would He let him down? Mom always said that God is merciful and just! So why? WHY?

After that minute I could feel a hand on my shoulder. It was probably Ken, even though I can’t be sure since as soon as he touched me I started crying out loud. My knees gave in completely and I fell on the ground. With my forehead stuck to the ground I started pounding it with my right hand and screaming: “This is unfair! Why? Why? Why? Why? What did he do? Why?”

After a few seconds, somebody stopped my hand. As I looked up I saw Akira. The quirky guy from before, full of life in his eyes and power in his voice now had a red face and tears welled up, at the point of bursting. He looked at me straight in the eyes without saying a word, then he hugged me. It was the most sincere hug I ever got, full of grief and understanding, full of compassion and apologies. It was so gentle, yet so rough. I could feel his mixed feelings of love and hate, a passion that I have lost a long time ago. We both cried in that position for some minutes. It was so beautiful, yet so sad.

After some time, we were able to get a grip and rose back up, Akira releasing me from the tight hug.

“Hisashi was the smartest out of all of us. He formed this group and gave all of us a purpose. Even when none of our research projects were getting anywhere and we were thinking of giving up, he was there. He was there to tell us that we are great and with our minds working as one, we will find a solution. And we always did! He was a great man, respected by everyone who knew him and loved by all his friends. But it seems like his great mind also became a burden. It seems that somebody found out about our projects and realized that he was the head of this team. That somebody did not want this team to go any further, so he murdered him. We’ve searched for the killer for so long, we even hired private detectives, loads of them, but to no avail. The only thing we could do to honor his memory was to keep working on The Dawn, with him in our hearts. So when we are done, we could show him that he was right to put his trust in us and that he did not die for nothing. He is also the reason you are here right now. He always said that when we are going to find a working formula he would bring you here and show you everything he worked on. He was always so excited when speaking about you. He always wished for you to see his work and understand why he had to stay away from home for such a long time. He loved you, your sister and your mother a lot.”

The one who delivered this speech was Mary. Her voice was soothing and calm. It seemed so similar to Misaki’s, but it felt like she was putting much more emotion in it. Akira was wiping his eyes, Ken was looking at me with a gentle smile and Misaki was looking at the ceiling, lost in her thoughts.I always thought that learning about my father would help me, that it would aid me to accept his death easier, but it didn’t. It only brought to life more questions, more grief and more sorrow.

If even one of the greatest minds in Japan could die so easily, then who are we to say that ‘good’ ever stood a chance in this world? What can we even define as ‘good’? They say that history is made by the winners, so who are we to say that ‘evil’ is not just ‘good’ that lost and vice-versa?

There was one thing I knew for certain though. That person, be it good or bad, was my father. I could not forgive what happened to him, so I knew what I had to do. I was going to find JG and bring him to justice.

“You said that you could help me awaken my inner superpower, right? Then let’s go, there is no time to waste!”

I was more determined than ever. I felt like all this life that I lost in the past years suddenly came back to me, jumpstarting my system.

“Seems like you’re not that much of a wuss. Come this way”

The voice was coming from behind me and it was that of Yuta, who apparently never left the room.

Waiting for me was an adventure. I did not know what was going to come, but I was not afraid. Standing tall, I headed for the elevator. Suddenly, all my regrets about coming here have vanished. My life finally got a new purpose.

I was alive.