Invisible Man

The fleeting light before my eyes fades back into total darkness. Just how many forevers has it been since I first started burning? I don’t know… I feel a heavenly force tug at me from my forehead as it sets me in motion and frees me from my damnation. My brain finally clicks back into tune with my surroundings. Squeezing my eyes together, I gather the strength to push them open.

Before me stands a boy who looks to be in his late teens wearing a traditional set of Japanese joue along with a Caucasian man looking to be in his twenties with bright flowing pink hair and a baggy hoodie that covers his hands.

“A ghost!” The boy exclaims in English at the sight of me levitating as the force keeps me hanging in midair.

“Wrong! A man.” The way the older man refers to me as simply a human person rather than defining me by my xenohuman abilities proves to be more comforting than I could ever imagine.

“Th-the ghost of a man?”

“No. A living human person, or more specifically… the Ghost of Nemuro.”

The man with the oversized hoodie brushes at my forehead as his hand, still in his sleeve and wrapping around a white ember. With the sound of a deflating tire, he crushes the ghostly flame as my feet touch the ground. I fall to my knees as my legs adjust to standing and supporting my weight for the first time in eternity. Trembling, I push myself up and try to take in my surroundings, every color and noise both somehow dull and overwhelming at the same time.

“Th-the Ghost of Nemuro?! As in Ishiguro Asahi?! That Ghost of Nemuro?!” The boy turns to me and stares in awe, though I’m still not quite sure of what’s happening.

“That’s the one. It turns out that the last DARWIN wisp that escaped hitched a ride on The Ghost of Nemuro down into the center of The Earth. Thanks to The Great Rupturing all those years ago, we picked on its presence again, and just last week, we finally pinned down its precise location with numa triangulation. The high amount of phantom activity in the area lined up with it all too as the wisp attracted all those minor phantoms to the location.”

I look around and scan for any troops only to see incense and talismans stuck to walls. My throat chokes on itself as I try to speak. The man turns to me and bows. “My deepest apologies, Mr. Ishiguro! It’s because of my neglect and failures that you had to endure being stuck in the core of the Earth for the past forty-seven years!”

How many years did he just say I was stuck down there for? “Wh-what year is it?”

The boy turns to me in surprise. “The Ghost speaks English?”

The man actually bothers to answer my question. “The current year is 331 PH. The world has since entered a new epoch and switched over to a new calendar era, counting from the year of the first recorded emergence of herkular-based appendages, or as you might know them, xenohuman abilities.”

“Coach Blues, you can’t say that!”

“Hayato, 'xenohuman' is simply what herkahumans were called in Mr. Ishiguro’s times.”

“S-still… You shouldn’t use a word with such a dehumanizing history so casually.”

I try to make sense of these strange, foreign sentences they’re saying. “Wh-where am I? What happened to me?”

“The first question is easy to answer. You’re in central Tokyo, Mr. Ishiguro, right where you were before you sank into the Earth. The second question though…” Mr. Blues scratches the back of his head. “Mnn, that’s a lot harder to explain… So you know that rumor back then about the virus that only afflicted herka- sorry, xenohumans? Well, it wasn’t entirely wrong. You were afflicted by a unique phantom developed by the DARWIN Foundation known as a DARWIN wisp, which targets herkahumans and causes their HBAs, or uh, I mean abilities to reach a new and uncontrollable level. It had afflicted your Restless Spirit, causing you to sink into the Earth’s core and trapping you there for the past forty-seven years.”

“The DARWIN Foundation?” It still all sounds like gibberish. I bring my hand up to rub my head, realizing my body is completely transparent.

“That’s right, the DARWIN Foundation. The DARWIN Foundation is the organization responsible for the human evolution into herkahumans. They numatically transmuted the genes of some people in the world to gain herkular-based appendages or HBAs for short. The specifics of numatics, however, would be too long to delve into right here and now, but essentially, numa is the fundamental force that every sapient creature possesses and exudes for being capable of enough complex thought to affirm their own existence. Think Decartes’s ‘I think, therefore I am.’ Hayato here and I are numacists who practice and train to wield this power.”

“R-right..." I sigh as my body wobbles, trying to stay upright and simply accept anything they tell me at this point. After what I've just experienced for the past supposed forty-seven years, I suppose it wouldn't even be hard to believe that Hell could freeze over. "So why did it afflict me out of all xeno–, uh, herkahumans? Why then?’

“As an innately numatic phantom, it was particularly attracted to strong emotions such as delusion, regret, and desperation. I suspect it must’ve been drawn to your unrelenting willpower." The man brushes his hair back with his sleeve. "The herkahuman with the air manipulation HBA seemed to have drawn a DARWIN wisp while under similar circumstances, allowing him to escape prison and wreak havoc on the city. I incapacitated him when I separated the wisp from him as I did just now with you, though I believe the scientific world tried to justify my numatics as the work of an anonymous herkahuman. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from the DARWIN wisp.”

I try taking deep breaths as my legs still tremble in weakness. “I-I’m sorry. I-I still don’t think I follow.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Ishiguro. I apologize. I know that’s a lot of information to take in. We’re here to help you adjust and transition into the modern world.”

My head spins as this storm of information turns my world upside down. My throbbing headache only seems to worsen as I try to wrap my mind around the bizarre idea of numa. Why am I transparent? How am I even still alive?

Mr. Blues’ phone rings as he takes out what looks to be some sort of tiny, futuristic smartphone, expanding it and putting it up to his ear. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

Hayato sits me down onto a nearby pipe as Mr. Blues takes the call, speaking to me in perfectly fluent English instead of Japanese for some reason. “I can’t believe I’m meeting you in person, sir. All your crimes were pardoned when the evidence that proved your innocence from the murder surfaced, and a herkahuman judge reviewed your trials and story and overturned all your sentences.”

I don’t really process what the boy is telling me as my mind and body still continue to adjust to the surface. “I see…”

“I’m honestly such a huge fan! You’re practically a living legend! Your tale is an inspiration to all herkahuman children and activists!”

Mr. Blues join us once more, speaking to the boy. “There’s an emergency back in New York, and Coach Pierce needs me. I have to hop for now, but I’ll be back.”

“An emergency? What kind? Should I come too?”

“No, you stay here with Mr. Ishiguro and show him around the modern world a bit. It’s a ‘we might be gaining new members to our club’ kind of emergency.” With that, the man hops and vanishes into thin air.

I turn to the boy to find him already changed into more casual street clothes, folding his set of joue away into the size of a small paper crane and pocketing it. “Come on, Mr. Ishiguro. There’s so much for me to show you.”

I closely follow him out of the alleyway into the grand glory of a rebuilt Neo-Tokyo, expecting to see flying cars and people walking about with cybernetics only to find that the architecture has gotten slightly more geometric and herkahumans fill the streets. “As you can see, herkular genes have vastly spread, and herkahumans are now commonplace.”

“Right… So… we’re no longer the minority?”

“Well, yes, technically. We’re not population-wise, but herkahumans are still drastically underrepresented in positions of power though.”

“So things haven’t really gotten better after all?” I look around in confusion as we walk down the city streets with billboards, magazines, and movie posters displaying herkahumans in flashy costumes. "Has there been no progress?"

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. With the rise of CVAs, people have really changed their opinion on herkahumans.”

I turn to Hayato and tilt my head. “CVAs? What are CVAs?”

“Hm? Oh, counter-villain agents. They market themselves as superheroes and basically are superheroes for a liv–.”

“No, you can’t be serious!” The mention of the word jogs my memory as flashbacks hit my brain in a painful cascade. “Counter-villain agents as in the branch of law enforcement that Dr. Yamamoto proposed!? That can’t possibly be an actual thing now!”

The boy looks at me with a confused and startled expression. “Wh-what are you so worked up about? Dr. Yamamoto’s work did a lot to empower herkahumans. He’s one of the leading figures responsible for our bettered position in society today.”

I look around again, taking in all the action figures, product sponsorship, and other marketable brands built upon the identity of being superheroes as it dawns on me just what they are. Grabbing Hayato’s shoulders, I shake him at the revelation of this strange amalgamation of a future dystopia. “Dr. Yamamoto was a xeno–, uh, a herkaphobic piece of shit! Don’t you see the problem!? He’s inciting herkahuman on herkahuman violence and exploiting these herkahumans for profit!”

He glances out the corner of his eyes and back at me as though I were crazy. “I… I don’t think Dr. Yamamoto was herkaphobic considering how much he worked with and helped herkahumans. CVAs are pretty cool considering they risk their lives fighting superpowered villains and saving the day. If you go ask any herkahuman child what they want to be when they grow up, there’s a pretty good chance they’ll answer ‘superhero.’”

“Don’t call them ‘villains.’ If there’s a word that’s dehumanizing, it’s that!” My eyebrows furrow as I reject the truth that's being presented to me, releasing my grip on Hayato.

“I understand that you were falsely accused of murder by the old justice system, Mr. Ishiguro, but why are you sympathizing with villains? If you’re concerned about prison conditions, they’ve been drastically improved too.”

“No, that’s not it! You’re not getting it! There are plenty of herkahumans who threaten the general populace that aren’t evil! They’re just lashing out as a defense mechanism due to mistreatment from society! We don’t need CVAs, we need to improve our–”

An explosion off in the distance interrupts me as I turn to face the commotion. “What was that?”

Hayato didn’t even bother turning to the explosion as he continued to walk down the street. “Hm? Oh, probably a villain attack somewhere nearby.”

“What!? Why are you so calm!? Doesn't that mean the lives of everyone in the city are in danger!”

“I mean, that’s what CVAs are for, no? I’m sure a CVA will come along soon and be more than happy to boost their public popularity by stopping this attack.” He chuckles to himself as he adds in another comment that he seems to find funny for some bizarre reason. “By the sound of the villain’s abilities, it looks like the construction companies are going to have a pretty good day too.”

I take slow, stumbling steps that eventually speed up and pace up to the nonchalant boy. “Why are you just okay with this? Shouldn’t you do something with your numa or whatever? People are going to die!”

He scratches the back of his head as he laughs again. “Oh, no. I’m not really supposed to use my numa in public. It’s a bit of a taboo.”

I shake the idle numacist again. “Then what do you numacists do!?”

“We fight phantoms in secret and protect the world from spooks and bogeys that numatically manifest from mass concentrations of fear, doubt, and other negative numa.” The boy takes a step away from my grasp and shrugs. “Frankly, I’m struggling to see why you’re so worked up. Sure, most CVAs are corporate and aren’t exactly perfect, but it’s just the best we’ve got. It’s not really fair to criticize CVAs for receiving financial compensation for doing their work either. That’s just how jobs work.”

“I get that, but–” Standing next to Hayato, a passerby walks right through me as if I were actually a ghost. My eyes glance over to the man who walked right through me like he didn’t even see me. “Wh-what just happened?”

Hayato inhales through his teeth. “Oooh. That’s not good… I should’ve noticed earlier… I blame Coach Blues for concealing himself to the general populace and conditioning me to ignore the strange looks people give me when I talk to invisible entities. It seems like that DARWIN wisp left you with some sort of numatic curse. I guess that’s to be expected after an initial phantom experience.”

I feel as though the muscles on my face aren't enough to express the amount of absurdity, confusion, and frustration I'm experiencing. “What does that mean? Should I do something to fix this?”

“Uhh, I’m not really familiar with curses, so we should wait for Coach Blues to get back. From the looks of it though, the curse seems to be making you invisible and incorporeal to anyone who doesn’t practice numa or hasn’t had a phantom experience yet.”

The thought of being an invisible man reminds me of the reason why ended up here in the first place. I’d been so caught up trying to adjust to waking up into a completely new world that I’d completely forgotten… Hikari… How am I supposed to reunite with Hikari when I’m stuck like this?

The realization strikes me through my soul as my heart sinks, my brain experiencing a nearly out-of-body experience. If it’s been forty-seven years… Then… Then… No… No, you’re joking, right? What kind of sick prank is this? To think that after all this time… After all this effort… After all these years… Now that I’m finally free…

…

…

…

I MISSED HER ENTIRE FUCKING LIFE!

I drop to my knees as the world crumbles before me, all the dystopian flaws of this new world fading to insignificance. Clutching my head as I rock back and forth, I scream into the skies at the top of my lungs in lamenting agony, my crisis invisible to all the world but this one boy.

“M-Mr. Ishiguro, what’s wrong?”

I stabilize my body, every fiber of my being both burning hot and desolately cold at the same time as I slowly turn my head to the boy. “Hayato… Hayato, do you know the name Masuda Hikari?”

His eyes shoot open as he pounds a fist into a palm. “That’s right, your daughter! Did you know? You’re a grandfather now!”

Ah, right. Of course, she’d have started her own family by now... And to think I wasn’t there for the wedding, nor was I there to walk her down the aisle. “I see…”

“She’s almost as famous as you, Mr. Ishiguro, as the world’s first renowned herkahuman idol and singer-songwriter, though she graduated from her idol work a few decades ago. She’s still  respected by many herkahumans for paving the way for herkahumans in the entertainment and media industry.”

I begin to nod as a bittersweet smile returns to my face. “Good for her… Good for her.”

“Oh, I know!” The boy takes out his smartphone, expanding it out to the size of a tablet. “Here. This is her singing for the Olympics opening ceremony a few years back.”

I watch her on the tablet, all grown up now and even older than me. She projects her voice and sings with the passion she’s always had for the entire world. Tears roll down my cheeks as I notice the wrinkles on her face. I’m watching, Hikari. I’m watching you now. The ripples of your perseverance can be felt from lightyears away. The light you shed shines brighter than any star. The heat of your passion burns hotter than the core of the Earth.