Aki the Haunted

Dawn arrived before Serizawa and I rode into the Yagi estate. The estate was situated on the artificial mountains tracing the northern edge of Neo-III Tokyo. The sloped region let us overlook the dense city in comfort. As I watched the evening scene, Serizawa plucked me from her bike like a kitten and dropped me onto the gravel driveway. Hopefully nobody saw.

‘Watch the claws,’ I muttered, wiping my knees.

‘Like em?’ Serizawa flexed her right hand, extending the Cat-Claw’s five curved blades from her fingertips.

‘They have a reputation.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘They’re grotesque and dishonourable.’

‘Hell yeah they are.’ Serizawa raised the blades toward the moonlight. The picture of her backlit by the moon froze in my vision. She’d spoken with an odd timbre; not glee, but not unhappiness. Weariness tinged her smile and flowed to empty grey eyes. Something worse than apathy grew deep in her. Something mordant. I heard it in her heartbeat. I saw it in the cloud she exhaled into the crisp night air, equal parts cigarette smoke and condensation. Her lips were cracked and peeling and tiny lines of blood like a river delta spoke sad and glad things to me: You’re alive, and you’re alive.

Serizawa removed a flask and colour-coded pill box from a compartment on her bike. The pill box’s lids had cute, cartoonish stickers of cats, mice, foxes, sheep, and other animals. She removed two pills from different lids. My cybernetic eyes zoomed in as she put them in her mouth and took a swig from the flask. I regretted the perverse intrusion.

She’d made a concoction of nicotine, alcohol, dextroamphetamine, and kyratalsate. That last one, kyratalsate, was a post-DelStag drug for war veterans to treat mental instability, mostly paranoia. My parents, both veterans, used it for a while.

Serizawa flicked her cigarette and crushed it under her boot.

I scowled. The driveway was of pristine white gravel. ‘The Yagi estate is our ancestral home.’

She glanced at the cigarette butt, and then at me. Her abrupt laughter filled the evening. ‘Those haven’t existed in fifty years.’

‘The Yagi clan dates back—’

‘Yeah, I know. But your “ancestral home” burned down back when this place was still called Neo Tokyo. You know what happened afterward? The Yagi clan built an identical copy, but they took the chance to put it in a better spot. And guess what? We’re standing there.’

‘That shouldn’t matter.’

‘Shouldn’t or doesn’t?’ Serizawa tapped the outer wall with her knuckles. ‘You ever heard of the Ship of Theseus?’

‘The band?’

‘The concept,’ she replied, rolling her eyes. ‘It asks the question: If a ship’s parts were replaced one by one, would it be a new ship?’

‘You’re trying to confuse me.’

‘I’m trying to educate you. There’s nothing wrong with being proud of your home and lineage, but this isn’t ancestral. The world ruined anything ancestral decades ago. Not to mention the Rat King—’

The estate’s floodlights switched on, a whole row over the garages and entryway. The bright white lights washed away the painting-like scene. My image of Serizawa washed away with it. All that remained was her physical traits: Dry black hair to her shoulders, a pale face, and dark rings under her eyes. Her slight chest was visible from the sides of the singlet.

I didn’t look too different. I had plain black hair and a plainer body. The only distinct marking on my body was a tattoo on my shoulder of the Yagi clan’s emblem, which consisted of a diamond surrounded by two rings. Though, the least plain thing about me was under my skin: A top-of-the-line 49% worth of cybernetics, mostly concentrated in my mind, arms, shoulders, chest, and a mixture of primary and secondary senses. Primary like sight, secondary like balance. Most of the Sumiaka-kai were at the 49% mark. We didn’t deal much with biotech filth; it wasn’t natural. That warping of human life was left to Montim Aquinor.

The front door opened. My sister, Mayumi, stuck her head out. ‘You a Venator yet?’ she called to me.

‘No.’

‘You get busted?’

‘I—’

‘Just kidding, already saw the clip.’ She laughed and shut the door, singing an impromptu song about how much trouble I was in.

‘Lovely sister,’ Serizawa remarked, sarcastic.

I glared. ‘Don’t talk about her.’

‘Classic Syndikid behaviour. So quick to get angry over the slightest insult.’

‘Don’t use that word.’

‘Classic?’

‘Syndikid,’ I replied. ‘It’s infantilising.’

‘You can’t hate it that much; you’re still chatting with me.’

‘I was waiting for you to leave.’

‘And I was waiting for you to go inside. Guess we’re stuck here forever.’

My glare intensified.

‘Do you have to look like that all the time?’ She imitated my expression. ‘Scowling and brooding? Doesn’t your face ache?’ When I didn’t respond, she shrugged and lit another cigarette. Neither of us moved. ‘You have brothers, too, right? I'm sorry about Tatsuya.’

‘Are you?’

‘I am,’ she affirmed. ‘I met him a few times. He got his licence at, what, fifteen? One of the best Venators I’d ever seen. A little too good – in the end.’

‘You’re talking gibberish.’

‘If a Venator is too good, the Rat King’s enforcer deals with them.’

‘Is that why you slack off?’

‘I’m serious.’ She raised her arms in a zombie-like pantomime, the sort of gesture to scare kids. ‘The enforcer is named Ennio, the Muted Man.’

‘Ah yes, just like the Slit-Mouthed Woman, the Snow Woman, and the man who delivers presents across the world in a single night.’ I scoffed. I’d seen the moniker “Muted Man” online, alongside dozens of pages about urban myths. People claimed the Muted Man cut off the tongues of the Rat King’s enemies and hung them like Tanabata streamers.

‘You don’t have to believe me,’ Serizawa said. ‘But, if you see a guy in a white tuxedo, run away. Then again, even if it isn’t Ennio, I wouldn’t trust a guy in a white tux.’

‘…What?’ I held my breath.

‘I once dated this guy who only wore tuxedoes, so ever since—’

‘No, I mean—Does the Muted Man wear a white tuxedo?’

Serizawa frowned and nodded. ‘He’s tall, too.’

A sick, knotted feeling bubbled in my gut. The man at the casino, in the private rooms. He was tall and wore a white tuxedo. Even the memory of looking at him—I tasted bile and spat into the bushes.

‘What happened to honouring your ancestral home?’ Serizawa joked.

‘What does Ennio do?’

‘I thought you didn’t—’

I whirled to her. ‘What does he do?’

Serizawa’s cigarette hung loose between her lips. Before speaking, she gingerly removed it. ‘He starts by cutting out the person’s tongue. He injects an iso-region toxin, too, so the original flesh rejects any cybernetic or biotech replacements. Then if the person still causes trouble, he kills them.’

I didn’t respond. My mouth had gone dry.

‘But he ignores Venators until they become a major threat,’ Serizawa continued. ‘So, it’s lucky you’re—oh, right. Forgot you don’t have a licence.’

I reeled back, breath unstable. The world seemed to spin. I braced myself on a rock alongside the driveway.

‘I was teasing,’ Serizawa said. ‘Besides, your brother is the only being-too-good case that I know about.’

‘He was a prodigy,’ I panted. ‘That made him cocky, and it made him dead.’

‘Got him killed, you mean.’

‘He died in the Manila accident.’

‘Sure, he was in Manila, but he got killed.’

‘I don’t need this.’ I took a step toward the front door. What was I going to do? Was it truly the Muted Man, I met at the casino? The whole day and now the evening scared and frustrated me. At least mistakes at the casino were my own; Serizawa just irritated me.

‘I witnessed it,’ Serizawa said. I halted and glanced back. ‘In Manila. Like I said, your brother was the only being-too-good case, so the Rat King had him killed.’

‘You’re lying.’

‘Right, because that’d help me.’

‘Androids wouldn’t have killed Tatsuya.’

‘Not just any android. Ennio, the Muted Man.’

I used every enhanced ability at my disposal, but I couldn’t detect a lie. It was possible Serizawa was mistaken but believed she spoke the truth. And yet…

‘Thanks for the lift,’ I said, and continued walking.

‘Sweet dreams,’ Serizawa replied, starting her motorcycle and kicking up gravel as she sped back down the driveway.

#

I spent that evening alone in a building full of people. My younger brother and sister had friends over, so the east and west wings were occupied. Maids went about their work. Even my older brother, Ginjiro, came home to eat and pilfer coins from around the house. He left before our parents arrived home a couple of hours later. Father reminded me I was grounded.

Grandmother was ensconced on her usual perch: On the veranda, with a green pillow so threadbare it was little more than a pillowcase. We called her the All-Seeing Granny, since from her position she could see the east, west, and south wings. Plus, she always wore an illegal spy helmet with night vision, thermal vision, motion trackers—any form of vision you imagined. The helmet’s internal padding had probably fused with her scalp.

With the All-Seeing Granny sentry installed, I couldn’t leave the estate without being detected. Hours earlier, when I’d first snuck into the boot of my parents’ car, I had envisioned events playing out like this: Sneak along on a mission, impress everyone, get a Venator licence immediately, return to Neo-III Tokyo, go out and celebrate with friends.

Instead I boiled water for cup noodles, went to my room in the south wing, and from my window overlooked the glowing city. I was halfway through the noodles when my computer chimed. A private message. I flipped cyber-side and remotely checked.

Taeko: You busy?

Aki: Good evening. And no.

Taeko: Wanna hangout?

Aki: I cannot.

Taeko: I guessed as much.

Aki: Why?

Taeko: I saw the clips…

(Taeko added an emoji of a cringing face that changed to a crying one.)

Aki: What’s in the clip?

Taeko: Mostly you walking out with your parents. There’s some footage of the shootout, too. Also, an auto-generated video is discussing nepotism and how it’s unfair Syndikids can go on missions without a licence.

Aki: It wasn't nepotism.

Taeko: Seems that way looking in.

Aki: You doing anything tonight?

Taeko: I’m on phase four, so I’m trying beer.

Aki: I still think it’s weird.

Taeko: Think whatever you want.

(For a couple years Taeko had been into a philosophy called Rational Hedonism. It involved extensive “phases” of earthly pleasure, the idea being to streamline pleasure into a rational scale.)

Aki: I’ll see you at school.

Taeko: Ciao.

I flipped real-side. Someone knocked at my door. ‘It’s open,’ I said. One of the maids, O-Hisa, stated my parents wanted to speak with me in the parlour. I slurped up the rest of my noodles and went out. O-Hisa’s gliding, silent footsteps and cream-coloured attire gave her a ghostly air. She blended into the hallway’s paper walls yet contrasted the imitation wood floors and ceiling. As we went, I pondered what led her to becoming a maid.

Mother and Father were seated diagonally on the floor, at two corners of a plastic table. I kneeled opposite them, a premonition rising to the forefront of my thoughts. ‘Are you well, Akinori?’ Mother asked.

‘I am,’ I replied.

Father sat straighter, his visage firm. ‘We mustn’t waste time. Thus, Akinori, we must tell you this: You will not inherit one our licences.’

It felt like my heart stopped. I held my breath and ran my tongue across my teeth. Had I heard wrong? Misinterpreted? ‘I understand. Hideki and Mayumi need yours, meaning I’ll get Uncle Daiji’s licence.’

‘That’s incorrect.’

‘He has a child at last?’ Uncle Daiji and his wife had been trying to have a child for years. After two miscarriages, there was talk of giving up. But, if they had a child, Uncle Daiji’s licence would go to them.

‘You do not understand,’ Father said. ‘You will not be inheriting a Venator licence.’

‘Father,’ I said, monotone.

‘You are disappointed, but please believe me when I say we have your best interests at heart.’

Through a deeply ingrained sense of filial piety, part of me believed him. The other part raged, straining to launch a string of words I wouldn’t be able to take back. I swallowed and filtered the words into questions. ‘Is it because of today’s mission?’

‘We believe you would be better suited to another branch of the syndicate.’

‘Is Asa-8 forcing you to do this?’

‘She and the Asa-clones can’t force us to do anything,’ Mother said. ‘This was decided.’

Without warning, and to my horror, tears formed. I clenched my jaw and didn’t let them fall. ‘I was born to be a Venator,’ I argued. ‘To serve the syndicate.’

‘And you shall serve, in your own way.’

‘Filing documents and scheduling flights? Bullshit.’ I searched my mind for new arguments. ‘A-At the casino! I saved a woman from an android. That has to count for something.’

‘A lot counts against you,’ Father reminded.

‘Like what?’

‘Fighting with fellow students associated with Montim Aquinor?’

‘Bastards deserved it.’

‘Akinori.’ Father’s brow furrowed. ‘You hospitalised two of them. Another lost a hand.’

‘They can grow another. Aquinor love that biotech shit.’

‘That is not the point.’

I prepared to use my last trick. Was it a trick, or was I ruining myself? I took a deep breath and followed through on the risk. ‘I know who killed Tatsuya.’

Mother’s eyes widened, though Father remained impassive. ‘Who?’ Mother asked, before Father could stop her.

‘Ennio, the Muted Man.’

Father’s jaw clenched and he looked ready to strangle me. ‘Of all things, that is your theory?’

‘I know how it sounds, but Serizawa—’ I shut my mouth but couldn’t take back what I’d said. The name had an instantaneous effect. Father’s attention slipped away. I could’ve told him the sun was hot, but he'd be doubtful if the information had come from Serizawa.

‘You have great technical proficiency, and you will use these skills to support the syndicate,’ Father said. ‘There is nothing more to discuss.’

I looked between my parents. Anything else I said would only be to my detriment. I nodded to each, stood, and returned to my room.

#

I lay in bed. An auto-generated “sad” playlist filled the room. As far as I was concerned, my life was over. My four siblings would be Venators. Most of my friends in the Sumiaka-kai would be Venators. The word rattled in my skull: V-E-N-A-T-O-R-S. It made me realise I pretty much only associated with people who were or would become Venators. I’d never thought of myself as obsessed, but once the target of my obsession was thwarted, everything gained a sad clarity. Of course, I knew it was possible to achieve a good life without being a Venator, but I couldn’t envision it. Imagine being told a description of a pigeon without ever seeing a bird.

Many would call my outlook ridiculous. Venator licences weren’t only inherited; normal applications worked. But, honestly I had no faith I’d pass the exam. I mentally recited every extended family member and associate with a Venator licence, but those licences were already tacitly reserved.

Damn.

A staccato screeching filled the estate. My reverie shattered. I rushed to the inner hallway and slid open a door. Across the garden, my grandmother’s mouth hung open as she screeched. She stared through her spy helmet at something far away. I sprinted across the garden and called out to her, but she didn’t notice. Spittle flew from her mouth as she babbled. My siblings and O-Hisa arrived a few moments later.

‘Is she having an episode?’ Mayumi asked.

I lifted Grandmother’s gaunt, veiny hand. She pulled away and pointed across the estate. ‘Where are your parents?’ It took me a moment to realise she’d spoken, so rarely had I heard her voice.

‘Still in the parlour,’ I replied.

‘Secure the estate!’ Her voice crackled with sudden vitality. ‘Raise the shields!’

‘I’ll get her meds,’ Mayumi sighed.

Mayumi leaving prompted Hideki to go as well. O-Hisa kneeled beside me. ‘This is not an episode,’ she said in her soft manner. I agreed; it didn’t match her behaviour in the past. ‘This has happened before.’

‘What has?’ I asked. O-Hisa pursed her lips and said she wasn’t certain, only that we needed to do as Grandmother ordered. As she said this, Grandmother rapidly murmured. O-Hisa and I leaned closer.

Grandmother wet her lips. She gulped. She murmured:

‘The Muted Man. Raise the shields.’

I recoiled. O-Hisa got to her feet. ‘I will raise the shields,’ she said. ‘Find your parents.’ As she hurried away, I followed Grandmother’s gaze and used my own cybernetic eyes. I couldn’t detect anything. More importantly, did I hear correctly? Ennio, the Muted Man? If it was true, were my parents truly the target? Either way, I couldn’t leave them. I ran to the parlour, pushing past Mayumi’s friends along the way. But when I threw open the door, the parlour was empty. Their room? I rushed onward.

In my parents’ room, I found another maid. She reported that my parents had left for a meeting. They weren't at the estate. They’re not the target, I thought, as a cold dread overwhelmed me. Grandmother’s screeching restarted. Once more, I sprinted across the garden. Mayumi tried to put medication in her palm, but Grandmother swatted it away.

‘Don’t raise the shields,’ Grandmother rasped.

I frowned. ‘But, you said—’

‘He’s inside! Raise them and we’ll be trapped.’

I spun around. Where was he? Where was O-Hisa? Could I stop her raising the shields in time? I peered across the garden. Was that—?

A tall man in a white tuxedo gently stepped off the veranda and marched toward us.

Ennio, the Muted Man.

‘Fuck,’ I said.

‘Fuck,’ Grandmother echoed.

‘Great, are you both losing your minds?’ Mayumi asked, glancing at us and Ennio.

I gestured wildly. ‘It’s him!’

‘It’s who?’

‘You can’t—?’ I didn’t finish my thought. For reasons I didn't understand, Mayumi couldn't see the Muted Man. 

A reddish glow replaced the night sky. O-Hisa had raised the shields. We’d be trapped once they fully activated. That’s when it hit me. I was the Muted Man's target. He didn’t care about anyone else in the estate. If I stayed, I’d be trapped. He’d kill me. If I was outside and he was inside…

I sprinted directly away from the Muted Man. My arms pumped. Leg muscles strained, heated and tight from the renewed exertion. Forget the hallways. I broke through lattice paper walls and reached the edge of the estate in seconds. I smashed through a window and landed on the driveway. Almost there, I thought. The glow of the shields grew brighter by the second. Kicking up gravel, I sprinted the short distance to the shields and dove.

I cleared the shields.

I landed.

I screamed and shrieked and swore. The shields had burned through my trousers and left an imprint around my outer calves. The flesh bubbled. The hems of my trousers fell away. Bits of fabric stuck to the burned flesh. The pain was unlike anything I’d experienced. And the smell...

The shields hadn’t heated up enough to sever my legs, but it felt like my bones were aflame, like my blood boiled. I balled up part of my shirt, clamped it between my teeth, and hobbled away.