“This is the third time your son has tested top of his group,” Taylor says. She’s giving Mina the same sympathetic, encouraging look she’s always given me. “In fact, Sasuke tested at a margin so high, we had to rework our categories.”
Mina frowns and lowers her head in an apologetic bow. “I don’t like how it’s making him act at home. He has so many nightmares and can’t seem to concentrate on anything. His doctor tells me his blood counts haven’t improved enough. And he’s lost more weight.”
“Don’t do this, Tanaka-san,” Taylor says gently. “We might be so close to a breakthrough.”
Mina hesitates as she looks into her colleague’s eyes. I don’t know what she sees there, but she manages a smile. “I’m so sorry, Director,” she finally says, and in her words is a deep exhaustion. “I would still like to withdraw Sasuke from the trial.”
Then Taylor gives her a sorrowful, pitying look—the same one that had made me want to trust her. “This might be your only chance to save your son.”
The guilt in Mina’s eyes twists like a knife in my chest. She shakes her head again. “We want him resting at home. Where he can be happy, at least for a little while.”
Taylor says nothing to that. Instead, the two women just bow to each other. Taylor stares at the door long after Mina leaves through it.
The next recording skips ahead, but this one starts with Taylor seated in what looks like her office, across from another researcher. “You told me you had this well-organized,” Taylor says to him in a soft voice.
The man bows his head in apology. “Mrs. Tanaka has already filed paperwork with the institute. She doesn’t want to keep her son in the program. You know she has a good relationship with the CEO. We have to let them go.”
“Does Mina suspect what we’re doing?”
The researcher shakes his head. “No,” he replies.
Taylor sighs, as if all of this genuinely pains her. She flips through a stack of papers on her desk. “Very well. Do we have any other participants in the program who might work?”
“Your girl. Jackson Taylor.” The researcher slides another stack of papers toward her. Taylor studies them in silence.
“Her numbers are good,” she replies, pushing up her glasses. “But her exam reactions are far less ideal. She’s too unpredictable to be a reliable candidate.”
Taylor’s indifferent tone takes me aback. I glance at Jax to see what she might be thinking, but she only drums her fingers idly against her belt.
Taylor closes her eyes, her brow furrowed in frustration. “Show me Sasuke’s files again.”
The researcher does as she says, handing over a stack of papers and pointing out several lines on the top page. The two sit quietly for a moment, flipping the pages, occasionally nodding.
“Far more consistent.” Taylor’s voice is clipped and efficient in a way that sends a chill down my spine. She closes the folder and begins to rub her temples anxiously. “It’s too significant a difference. He would have been perfect. And now he’ll just die at home, withering away to nothing in a couple of years. What a shame. What a waste.”
“You won’t be able to continue on with him,” the researcher says. Then his voice lowers. “At least, not with his parents as willing participants.”
Taylor pauses to look sharply up at him. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m just stating the facts.” But I can hear an unspoken suggestion in his words.
She puts her hands down and studies his face. She doesn’t speak for a long moment. “We’re not in the business of kidnapping children,” she says.
“You want to save his life. How is that any worse than what will already happen to him? It’s like you said. He’ll be dead soon.”
Taylor sits with her fingers laced together, lost in thought. I wonder if she’s thinking about the murder of her father, if she’s dwelling on her loss, her fear of death. Whatever’s going through her mind, it leaves a calm resolve on her face. Something righteous.
“Those poor children,” she finally whispers, almost to herself. “What a shame.”
I can see it in her eyes. She thinks what she’s doing is noble.
The realization makes me shrink back in horror. It reminds me of the determination on Hideo’s face when he first told me about the algorithm.
The image lingers in my mind as I consider both of them, willing to do terrible things to save the world.
“If this experiment succeeds,” the researcher goes on, “you are going to have on your hands one of the most lucrative technologies in the world. The amount someone would pay for it would be astronomical. And think of all the lives you’d save.” He leans closer. “We are never going to find another patient better matched for this trial. I can promise you that.”
Taylor rests her chin against one hand as she stares out into space. The light in the room has shifted before she speaks again. “Make it quick. Make it discreet.”
“Of course. I’ll start putting together a plan.”
“Good.” Taylor takes a deep breath and straightens in her chair. “Then I recommend we move forward with Sasuke Tanaka for our Project Zero.”
20
Project Zero.
My heart seizes. I’d thought—Hideo had thought—that this nickname was just a hacker name, his marker. And it was. But what it really referred to was what Taylor called him. Project Zero. Study Zero. Their first experiment.
Taylor lets out a deep sigh before closing the folder in her hand and sliding the papers back toward the researcher. “Sasuke’s time is limited. We can’t afford to wait around.”
Before I can fully process what I’d just witnessed, the scene shifts to a small boy crouched in one corner of a room. Immediately, I recognize this as the same room I’d seen Sasuke in during our Duel.
So Taylor had taken him. She was the one responsible for that day in the park, when a young Hideo called for his brother and never heard him answer. She unknowingly triggered the start of the NeuroLink itself, the result of Hideo’s overwhelming grief. The reason Tremaine’s lying unconscious in a hospital bed.
She’s the reason why I’m even here, ensnared in this madness.
The scene now seems like dawn, with the barest hint of light from the windows, but Sasuke’s bed looks untouched, like he’s been sitting in the same spot all night. Instead, he stays in the corner with his knees tucked up to his chin, still wearing that white, long-sleeve sweater with the symbol embroidered on one sleeve. His fingers worry endlessly at the blue scarf around his neck.
The same scarf that Hideo had wrapped around him on their last day together.
The door finally opens, casting a slanted rectangle of golden light onto the crouched boy. Instead of scrambling to his feet, he just shrinks farther against the wall and tightens his grip on the scarf. In the entryway stands a tall woman I recognize as Taylor.
“How do you feel today, Sasuke?” she says in a gentle voice.
“Dr. Taylor, you said if I stayed quiet, you would let me go home today.”
Sasuke replies in English, and his young voice sounds so innocent it pierces my chest. This was when he was still fully himself.
Taylor sighs softly and leans against the door. Her kind face seems so sincere that, if I didn’t know better, I’d genuinely believe that she loved him as a mother would. “And I meant that, sweetie, with my whole heart. You’ve been so good. We just have a little bit more to learn about you, and then we’ll take you home. Can you do that for me?”
Sasuke tilts his head at the woman. “Then I want to call my mom first,” he says, “to tell her that I’ll be coming home today.”
He’s only seven, but he’s already trying to negotiate. In this moment, I’m fiercely proud of him for not falling for Taylor’s trusting voice as easily as I had.
Taylor must have had the same thought as me, because Sasuk
e’s words bring a smile to her face. “You’re such a smart boy,” she says, a note of admiration in her tone. She walks over to him and crouches down to lean on her knees. “But today, we just need to do a quick scan of your brain. If you talk to your mother on the phone, it might upset you, and your mind won’t be as calm as we need it to be. But I promise, it’s so easy—you’ll blink and it’ll be done. Then you’ll be on your way. Doesn’t that sound nice, Sasuke-kun?”
Sasuke ignores her attempt at an affectionate honorific. “No.”
Taylor smiles again at his reply, but this time she just looks on as a researcher steps in. Sasuke starts shaking his head as the man reaches him and tugs on his arm. “I’m not going,” he says, his voice turning more urgent.
“Now, Sasuke-kun,” Taylor says. “If you don’t, you’ll force me to take away your scarf.” She reaches out and taps the scarf’s fabric once, teasingly. “And I know that would make you very sad.”
At that, Sasuke freezes. He turns his large eyes up at her.
“I’m only trying to help you, you know,” she says softly to him, reaching out to pat his cheek. “That’s what your mom and dad were hoping for, when they signed you up. They wanted this for you, do you know that? That’s why you’re here.”
His small fingers close so tightly around the tail of his scarf that, even in the recording, I can see his knuckles turning white. Sasuke casts a reluctant glance back at the room before he follows Taylor and the researcher out. The door shuts again, returning the space to darkness.
My hand comes up to cover my mouth. While Hideo’s parents searched frantically for him, while Hideo lost his own childhood fixated on his brother’s disappearance, Sasuke was being held here against his own will.
The next scene opens back in the testing room. This time, Sasuke is sitting alone at one of the desks with his head resting on his arms. He’s staring blankly off into space. When he shifts, I notice a telltale pinprick in the bend of his left arm. A thin stripe of hair has been shaved off the side of his head, and there, near his temple, I see another pinprick.
The door opens. A girl steps in, whom I now recognize as young Jax. She sees him, hesitates, and then twirls one of her pigtails around her finger. She takes a seat next to him.
“Hey,” she says.
He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even seem to notice her in the same room.
When he stays silent, Jax bites her lip and nudges his arm. Sasuke lifts his head to glare at her. “What do you want?” he mutters.
Jax blinks at him. “I’m Jackson Taylor.”
“Oh. You’re the daughter.” Sasuke looks away again and puts his head down. “I remember you from the study.”
Jax scowls and puts her hands on her waist. “Mom said you might like some company your own age, for a change.”
“Tell your mom I’m not interested in whatever she’s thinking up.” He pauses to give her a skeptical look. “You don’t look all that sick.”
She smiles at him. “The drug study they were doing on us? It’s been working really well on me. Mom says it’s a miracle.”
Sasuke stares at her for a second longer before turning away again. “Good for you.”
“Hey, it’s slowed down your disease, too. Maybe you’re turning into a bunch of supercells. That’s what my mom said. She said the study helped ten percent of us.” She hesitates. Her eyes wander to the shaved stripe along the side of his head. “What are they injecting you for?”
Sasuke rests his head against his arms and closes his eyes. “Why don’t you ask your mom?” he mutters.
Jax doesn’t say anything. Her cheeks flush in apology.
When she still doesn’t reply, Sasuke looks up and sees her expression. He sighs. After a moment, he seems to take pity on her. “Trackers,” he explains. “They need it in my bloodstream. That was the injection. They said it’s preparation, for my procedures.”
“Oh.” She studies his face. “You don’t look so good.”
He goes back to closing his eyes. “Go away. My stomach hurts, and I feel sick.”
Jax stares at him as he breathes evenly in and out. After a while, she straightens to leave. “I was going to ask if you wanted to check out this hidden nook I found, up near the institute’s ceiling. And my mom doesn’t know about that.” She starts to walk away. “There’s a metal grate that’s open to the fresh air. It might make you feel better.”
As she goes, Sasuke lifts his head to look at her retreating figure. “Hang on,” he says. When she turns back around, he clears his throat, suddenly shy. “Where is it?”
Jax smiles and tilts her head. “I’ll show you.”
“I’m not supposed to leave the room.”
Jax winks at him. “No one tied you down, did they? Now, come on.” She steps out the door, and a second later, he scoots his chair back and follows her.
There are several scenes like this one, each showing the two of them hanging out in the empty study room, or in the hallways, or in the back shelves of the institute’s library. One scene is from Jax’s point of view—she’s kneeling on the tiles of a bathroom floor, gently patting Sasuke’s back as he throws up over and over again into a toilet. Another is of Sasuke making funny faces at her until she bursts out giggling.
Yet another is of them crammed into a tiny wedge of space together, over which a metal grate exposes a square of the night sky. Jax seems lost in thought, absently pointing out one constellation after another. She stops talking long enough to glance over at Sasuke, only to see him staring at her instead of the stars. He turns his head hurriedly away, but not before she catches the blush on his cheeks. She grins. Then she gets serious.
“Hey—do you know what a kiss is?” she asks him.
He shakes his head. “You mean, like a kiss from my mom?”
“No, silly, gross.” Jax laughs before steeling herself. “I mean the kind you give to someone you like,” she murmurs. “In that way.” Then she leans over and presses her lips quickly and quietly to his cheek before jerking away.
Sasuke stares wide-eyed at her, his face pink in the night. “Oh,” he says hoarsely.
“I saw it on TV,” Jax replies. She laughs nervously, a little too loud, and it makes Sasuke laugh in return. He kisses her cheek back. It makes her giggle even harder. Soon the two have dissolved into quiet laughter.
I look away to the Jax standing beside me. She nods toward her younger self. “These are my Memories,” she says to me as we continue to look on. “Taylor had them recorded and archived after the NeuroLink came out.”
In a third one, both of them look a little older. They’re sitting in front of a TV—an older model that probably dates back at least seven or eight years—and on the screen, a thirteen-year-old Hideo is walking out onto a press stage to be greeted by an avalanche of flashing lights. He looks so unsure of himself at that age, lanky and shy-eyed, his clothes baggy and ill-fitting, his demeanor little more than a passing resemblance to the man he would become. He greets the reporters with a nervous wave.
Sasuke grips Jax’s arm. For an instant, the smile on his face is a genuine one. “That’s my brother, Jax!” he exclaims, pointing at the screen. “There! He’s on TV! You see him? Look at him! He’s so much taller!” His eyes are wide-open, shiny with new tears, fixated on the TV as if terrified the broadcast will stop. “Don’t I look like him? Do you think he’s looking for me? Do you think he’s thinking about me?”
He still cared for his brother then. I tear my gaze away. It’s too hard to watch.
Beside me, Jax watches with a grim calmness. “It was part of Taylor’s study, you know, letting him watch the TV,” she says.
“Why?” I ask.
Jax only nods as the scene ends and another starts to play. “You’ll see.”
Sasuke is crouching back in the same dark bedroom in the next scene. He’s thinner this time, alarmingly
so, his arms whittled down to sharp limbs and his eyes hauntingly large in his small face. How many years has it been? His illness must be eating away at him.
This time, when the door opens, he sits up straight and stares sidelong at Taylor.
“How do you feel today, Sasuke?” Taylor asks him.
Sasuke is quiet, his child eyes regarding her with a look of suspicion beyond his years. His hands are still clutching the blue scarf. Then, he says, “I’ll make a deal with you.”
These stern words coming from such a small boy makes Taylor laugh.
“Let me skip today, and I’ll eat my dinner.”
Now the woman laughs in earnest. When she finally stops, she shakes her head at Sasuke. “I’m afraid not. You can’t skip a day. You know that.”
Sasuke gives her a thoughtful look. “Let me skip, and I’ll give you my scarf.”
At that, Taylor regards him with a curious smile. “You love that scarf,” she says in a coaxing voice. “We can’t even pry it from you in your sleep. Surely you can’t be serious, giving it up just for a day off.”
“I’m serious,” Sasuke says.
I lean forward, unable to tear my attention away from the exchange.
Taylor walks over to Sasuke, stares down at him for a moment, and then holds out a hand. “The scarf,” she says.
“My free day,” Sasuke replies, his hands still tight around the cloth.
“You have my word. You won’t be at the labs today. We won’t bother you. Take your time and rest here. Tomorrow, we’ll start again.”
Sasuke stares at her. Finally, his fingers loosen on the scarf. When she takes it, I can see Sasuke’s hands visibly tremble, as if it took all of his strength not to lunge for the scarf right then and there. But he hands it over, without making so much as a sound.
Taylor looks at the scarf, then tightens her hands around it and turns to leave the room. “We’ll see you the day after tomorrow, Sasuke-kun,” she says over her shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”
Sasuke doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t crouch like he did in the first video I saw of him, either. He just stares calmly, carefully, as Taylor leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her. When it clicks shut, Sasuke’s shoulders droop. His hands clutch instinctively for the scarf that is no longer around his neck. When I look closer, I realize that he’s wiping tears away. Then he jumps to his feet, walks up to the security cam, and breaks it.