An Abstract Grasp

“The wisps… Due to their innately numatic nature, they’re especially attracted to strong emotions associated with numatics.”

“How close are they to completion?”

“They’re planning on releasing them by the end of next week.”

My heart beats in my head as I make my way over to Hikari’s middle school. I adjust the tie and lapels of my new suit, specifically bought just for this with cash phased from ATMs. As risky as it was, I also used Restless Spirit to phase into a cheap hotel room for a shower and to finally be able to have a good shave. I even went to a barber to properly get my hair fixed; I need to present myself properly for the occasion after all.

While Shizuoka was a pleasantly quiet and peaceful place for evading the police, the buzz of Osaka still feels more like home to me. After the past couple of days, I feel somewhat confident that I can openly and publicly walk in the city without worrying about being hunted down. It seems the Japanese police had completely lost me at sea, and now, nobody can recognize me as long as I wear a mask and have makeup on. Still, as paranoid as I am, I try to stick to crowds and avoid the eyes of authorities.

My eyes wander to the fleeting cherry trees planted along the path leading up into the school, all of them ready to blossom and some of them already have. This may be the end of middle school for Hikari, but I hope this is the start of something new for me. Walking amongst the students and other parent guardians overwhelms me with a sense of nostalgia. I feel like a father again.

Entering the school, I take the liberty to wander around a bit, peering into classrooms and imagining Hikari in them, studying, singing, or just enjoying her childhood with friends. I can see it almost too vividly. For a vision, a delusion, to feel this real, it almost feels intoxicating.

“Oh, hello sir.” I turn around to find a lady who looks to be somewhere in her thirties and a teacher judging from her outfit. “Are you lost?”

I suppress my first instinct, which was to phase away and hide, but I remind myself to stay in disguise and just be honest. “Ah, unfortunately so, yes. I seem to be struggling to find the auditorium.”

She gives me a smile and nods. “Ah, well, I was just on my way to the auditorium. Why don't you join me then?”

I nod, letting out an internal sigh, and begin following her to the auditorium. Out of almost a habit I’ve developed around people now, I cough into my shoulder to justify the mask I’m wearing. “Please excuse the inconvenience then.”

“So, who are you here to see today?”

I pause for a moment, wondering what I should answer. Will they simply assume I’m Hikari’s father? It’ll be suspicious if I don’t give an answer though. “Um… Ishi– uh…”

“Ishi?” She turns to me curiously.

“Uh, I–Ishi Masuda Hikari… I– It’s Masuda Hikari that I’ve come here for… today.”

Her eyes widen in surprise for a moment, but she nods, seemingly accepting that answer. “I see… Hikari happens to be in my homeroom class actually. She’s always a blossom of positive energy in class.”

“Ah, I see. That’s good to hear.”

I’ve already known that for the longest time, but to actually hear it from her teacher for the first time in so long does put a smile on my face. We arrive at the auditorium to find it still fairly empty. The teacher turns to me, directing me in. “Here we are. It seems we’re somewhat early, so not many have taken a seat yet. If you’d like to keep talking about how Hikari did at school though, we’d have to move into a teacher’s office for her privacy. In that case, though, I’d first have to ask what your relationship with Hikari is.”

I gulp, unsure of what to say in response. I’d love to hear more about Hikari’s middle school years, but revealing that I’m Hikari’s father is risky while claiming to be anything else would make inquiring more about Hikari weird. How do I best put this…?

I feel my back and shoulders tense as I speak. “I, uh, I’m only a family friend, but I’m basically like a father to her. If it’s okay, I would like to talk more about her.”

She stares into my eyes for a moment but smiles eventually. “I figured as much. I offered because I’ve never seen you at a parent-teacher conference yet, but it’s nice of you to take work off today to attend her graduation. Just follow me.”

My tensed muscles release as I follow her to a teacher’s office. “Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

She nods slowly. “You must be a really good family friend then.”

Ah, should I not have said that?

She opens the door into the teacher's office when we arrive, giving me a bow. “I should introduce myself. My name is Honda Shizuka.”

I quickly fabricate a false name on the spot, returning the bow. “Please call me Ishigami Asahi.”

Entering a teacher’s office, she puts away a folder laid out on a desk and pulls a chair out for me before taking a seat for herself.

I take a seat where she directed me to. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

She takes a pen lying on the desk between us and sets it aside. “Of course. First, I would like to just start off by saying that Hikari has been an absolute joy to have these past years.”

I laugh in response. “That does sound like her.”

Ms. Honda continues. “She’s also a very talented singer. So much so, she’ll be leading the entire class in singing the graduation song today.”

My eyes widen as I nod. “That’s amazing! She has always had a passion for singing.”

The teacher raises an eyebrow at my comment. “Right… Sir, please excuse me for asking, but are you currently sick?”

Her sudden inquiry reminds me to cough into my shoulder again. “Ah, yeah… I caught a cold recently.”

She nods. “Ah, I see. Well, as I was saying– Oh! Oh, no!” She places a hand on her forehead as concern washes over her face. “I’m super sorry about this, sir, but I just remembered that I have a very important call to make right now.”

I watch her take out her phone and stand up, finding the whole situation a little strange. “Oh, ok…”

“I’m super sorry about this. It might take a while.”

“No, it’s all good. I apologize for taking up your time.”

She steps out of the room, leaving me alone in the teacher’s office waiting for her to return. Ten minutes pass as I wait idly, fidgeting with my mask and tie. I consider stepping out to check on her but decide not to for fear that it would be rude. After around another ten minutes, I hear footsteps approach as the door creaks.

“Welcome back, Ms. Hon–” I turn around only to be greeted with a gunshot as I see a riot police officer with a smoking gun pointed at me. Ms. Honda stands behind the officer, peering over his shoulder at me with eyes that somehow hold both pity and fear. I look down to find a bullet lodged well within my abdomen, blood gushing out.

With rapidly accelerating breaths, I clutch onto the wound. I try to scream, but no sounds come out as Restless Spirit kicks into action. Even when dematerialized, the bullet does not exit my body. Upon closer inspection, I discover the bullet to be transparent. Are all bullets supposed to be this heavy? I look back up at the officer as he speaks into a walkie-talkie.

“I’ve got him. Over.”

He gets a nearly immediate response. “Copy that. We will begin the evacuation. Over.”

The school alarms blare in unrivaled panic as I fall to my knees, the officer’s firearm still aimed pointedly at me. Trembling, I drop to my knees and put my hands up in the air, releasing my Restless Spirit. There’s nothing I can do.

- - - - -

Entry #1

A part of me really didn’t want to start this journal again. I don’t even know why I’ve begun writing journal entries again. Maybe for a sense of familiarity? Maybe just out of pure habit? I don’t think I’ve been fully institutionalized yet though. I wonder how Boju is doing. Apparently, this prison is also known as the Permafrost Panopticon, and it’s the prison with the highest security in all of Japan. I do wonder what the other prisoners put in here are like.

Being located ten miles off the coasts of Nemuro, Hokkaido, I can certainly feel the “Permafrost” part of the name, but as far as I’m aware, it isn’t actually structurally a panopticon. It does, however, feature a 24/7 surveillance system on every single cell and room and pointed to every single corner, constantly being watched by a dedicated team of prison guards at all times.

I don’t know. I don’t know if I have it in me anymore. All these past fucking years, I’ve been desperately trying to claw myself out of this fucking hole, and every goddamn time, I somehow end up falling deeper than I started. It’s like I don’t even feel like trying again, yet I feel some well of rage and vigor boiling deep within my gut, like I’m too far gone past the point of no return that at this point, I don’t think I’m going to let anything stop me my madness, from this pure insanity of banging my head over and over again on this glass pane rock shitty wor I don’t even know anymore. I just don’t understand.

- - - - -

Entry #12

Come to think of it, I haven’t seen any other inmates in this prison yet. I suppose that should be expected with solitary confinement. I’ve only ever interacted with the guards when they deliver stuff to me. Speaking of the guards, why did I have three drastically different experiences with them in these three prisons? The guards back in Osaka seemed like they genuinely cared for the inmates, or at least some of them did. But all of them were at least humane and seemed like actual real people with their own lives, unlike the guards in Tokyo Xenoprison. Those guards mistreated everyone in that facility, but they seemed to have it out for me. It’s like they specifically enjoyed making it clear how powerless I was before them because I’ve had a track record of prison escape. I suppose they took after the doctor. The guards here at Nemuro are just robotic though. I don’t even think I’ve heard any of them speak. They have a strict set of rules to adhere to, and while they’re not cruel, they don’t seem human either.

Come to think of it, The Nemuro Prison is pretty organized overall. The schedule is tight, and they give us updates almost immediately. They have an exhaustive list of what’s permitted and what’s not. I can request books and newspapers and even write letters with a pretty good idea of what’s going to be denied and what’s going to be granted. It’s not the worst if I just ignore the complete social isolation and creeping existential dread of spending the rest of my life here. I guess I should be grateful that the judge decided to put me in here instead of giving me the death penalty on account of the fact that nobody has ever been killed as a result of my escape.

- - - - -

Entry #89

I haven’t been keeping count of the days as I have in the last two prisons, so when I looked at the newspapers today, I was surprised to learn that it’s already been over a year since I first entered the prison. I try not to dwell on that fact too much lest I try my luck with the rubber band. To distract myself from such dread, I find myself reading various dumb newsletters and magazines that report about various topics from pop culture to the politics surrounding xenohumans. I know it’s probably just some sort of cognition bias, but I’ve been noticing a lot more reports about terrorist attacks by xenohumans ever since the doctor and I had that conversation that day.

- - - - -

Entry #135

I can only do so much reading in a day before the words begin to look like an alphabet soup, so I’ve started working out in my cell. The food isn’t exactly great for growth and recovery, but anything to keep me sane while I’m here I guess. I feel like if I break at any point while in here, it’ll all be over. In my mind, I can see a rubber band being stretched further and further and further, and every day, it’s under threat of the slightest amount of tension that might cause it to snap. When thinking of the future shows me nothing but more of this helpless torment and thinking about the past only batters my mind with injustice and pain, I suppose my only option left is to distract my present with stimulants and tasks. Is this what depression is? Sometimes, I imagine myself lying down on the floor of my cell all day long rotting away with nothing but my tears, thoughts, and memories that replay over and over and over, each time mutating more and more into a paragon and a satire of its own self-pity. The thought scares me too much for me to let it happen, yet every time I actively try to resist it, it feels like my active effort of denial is in and of itself a validation of its existence, and it becomes more and more set in stone. The void creeps closer and closer, its temptations more and more attractive. Why do I bother stressing myself with all this nonsense when I can just let go? Why, when I can just let myself go and allow the void to consume me? What else is there left to do?

- - - - -

Entry #176

The dread came back to me again today when I saw a magazine article claiming that the recent surge of xenohuman accidents is because there’s some kind of virus that infects only xenohumans and makes their abilities go berserk, saying that it’s a special invisible pandemic that conventional medicine can’t detect. I guess crazy people like this have always existed. It really might be society’s fault after all when people are making such ridiculous claims to justify their xenophobia. What has the world come to? I fear to imagine what might come of society a decade from now.

- - - - -

Entry #233

No matter how I try to make my mind blank, one question fails to elude me: why? Why did any of this have to happen? Why me? What did I do to deserve any of this? Was it because I was just at the wrong place and at the wrong time? Should I not have tried so hard to earn that promotion to provide Hikari with a more comfortable upbringing? Should I not have tried to attend Hikari’s dance recital that night after all? Where the fuck did I mess up? Is it my fault? Is it society’s fault for its injustice? Is it just something to ultimately blame on the universe?

- - - - -

Entry #268

One of the news articles reporting a rampaging xenohuman caught my eye today. A xenohuman with the ability to manipulate air broke out of the Tokyo Xenoprison by brute force, releasing all the prisoners as they tore through the city. That sounds like Miro finally succeeded to me, or, well, at least he succeeded until apparently another anonymous xenohuman came in and incapacitated him. Despite this being the bloodiest day in Tokyo since the American bombing in WWII, I can’t help but feel a sense of joy knowing that Dr. Yamamoto got what he deserved. This does also remind me of something I had almost forgotten. I’d received that letter from Tsubasa University stating their interest in me as a subject of study. If I stay here in solitary confinement without anything but exercise, chores, and reading to occupy my mind, I might just end up going crazy sooner or later, so maybe I’ll try sending them a letter to see if they’re still interested.