Ergon V

The last lights of the sun were reflecting on the huge windows of a penthouse at the top of a 44-story luxury tower. Inside the opaque glass shower that stood amid the bathroom of the two-hundred-square-meters suite, Saori Yoshimura was taking a shower. She welcomed the warm, steamy water over her pale and delicate body since it made her feel clean and calm. Once she finished getting rid of the last traces of shampoo in her hair, she turned the knobs to the off position and opened the door so she could put a towel around her body. But before it came in contact with the terrycloth fabric, she felt chills the moment her skin experienced the contrast between the heat of the water and the now colder environment that surrounded her. Even if her body had a fairly developed muscle tone, her skin was quite s.e.n.s.i.t.i.v.e to such phenomena. Besides, the heating system had not yet been fixed, which made her wonder about the real benefit of living in one of the most expensive apartments in the city.

The Akasaka Hinokicho Tower was located on the residential and commercial district of Minato with the same name. The southwest part of the building overlooked the Hinokicho Park and Tokyo Midtown, the tallest high-rise complex in the whole city. It included office, residential, commercial, hotel, and leisure space along with the Suntory Museum of Art. The c.o.n.d.o.minium where Saori lived had been completed a little more than fifteen years ago by the construction company of his grandfather, who had made a venture in the industry during the 1980s, taking advantage of the economic growth of Japan at the time. Her father had also started a university career in architecture, but fate had other plans for him and his family. The apartment itself stretched across an L-shaped curve, two of the three bedrooms located at one end while the master bedroom occupied the other. Halfway to both spaces were the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen, all located in a space of almost eighty square meters.

Once she toweled herself dry, she headed for the walkthrough closet, which was placed between the bathroom and the master bedroom, all of these split by glass walls. As she gazed at her reflection in one of the four mirrors that surrounded the large double vanity set, she put on a soft, terrycloth robe, pulled the waist belt tight, and then dried her head with the towel. While she kept doing this, she also wiggled her toes, grasping the warm hardwood floor beneath her illuminated by multiple white recessed ceiling spotlights. It was then that Saori lifted her head, realizing she had forgotten to turn off the flat TV screen mounted on the glass wall of her bedroom. Once inside, she came across the female host of a television news program giving a report.

"A few hours ago, it was announced that the containers with explosives belonged to a company that provides molds for Cytek's prostheses," she said, as the broadcast feed was split into two segments; the woman was now on the left of a series of blueprints that belonged to airplanes, weapons, and various military vehicles—including what looked like a four-legged tank—, all labeled as prototypes of an alleged 'Ergon Project'. "Another setback for the billionaire company, which has been facing legal complications for a year after the leaks of hundreds of private doc.u.ments that would reveal the firm has been developing exclusive prototypes for the army."

A man with straight dark hair and a small scar on his face took over the entire screen. It was archive footage in which he was giving a seemly effusive statement behind a lectern. The hostess kept talking as the muted feed progressed. "The company's CEO, Uchida Takeshi, has repeatedly denied the existence of these doc.u.ments, adjudging its conception to Arab countries that, due to the low prices of oil barrels, resort to humiliating methods in their eagerness to discredit the energy tycoon. But with its growing role in the Sentinel initiative, it seems increasingly likely that Cytek is the one who conceived them."

The news program then switched its image to that of the testimony of the woman who had been wounded by a bullet during the dramatic incident of the previous night. "In other news," said the female host over her picture, "the woman who was injured during the chase was discharged this afternoon and was able to share her testimony of what happened with the media."

"I have no idea who or what it was, but I only know they save my life, and that's why I thank them," said the injured woman in such a way her words seemed to arise from the depths of her heart.

While those words were addressed to her and her brother, Saori did not think she deserved them. She was not a heroine. Had she been one, she would not have failed when she was most needed. Instead, she was just another human being tormented by her own failures, her own weaknesses. Wanting to avoid the topic for the moment, Saori seized the remote control and turned off the television set. Of course, she knew she would have to face once more the weight her actions had on her emotional state. But for that, she would have to leave her luxurious home for the time being.

As soon as she left Akasaka Tower, Saori bumped onto a pedestrian overpass that stood above Prefectural Route 413. She had to go through it if she wanted to continue her way to the north. Once there, she found herself walking across the walkway as a strong gust of wind that blew against her smooth left cheek diverted her gaze toward a young couple standing next to the railing. She glanced at her female peer, who was bursting into tears while the man tried to comfort her by moving the fingers of his hand tenderly over hers. However, the woman pulled out her own hand in objection, the rest of her body conveying her d.e.s.i.r.e to get away from his partner. But even though it was clear that she did not want to have anything to do with him anymore, she was still standing next to him. It seemed she could not get over the man. While it was difficult for Saori to feel any kind of empathy for another person who was not a relative of hers, she was able to comprehend what the girl was experiencing on that occasion.

For herself, despite any differences, was undergoing something similar.

After a few minutes of walking, Saori reached her destination, an apartment building located within Asasaka. She called the domicile's intercom where Deguchi-sama's voice was followed by an electric beep that allowed her to go in. As she left the elevator and came to her door, Hachiko had already swung it open, bowing at the young woman as she returned the gesture politely. Her father's secretary was dressed in a simple gray shirt with long sleeves and tight black lycra pants. For her part, Saori was wearing a cream slim blazer coat over a T-shirt with thin white and black stripes—recommended by her brother even if it made her feel like a prisoner—, along with pitch-black indigo high-rise skinny jeans and some elegant dark wide-heel shoes.

As she went inside her apartment, the young woman stumbled upon a small yet classy one-room flat. After she exchanged her shoes for slippers—which were stored in shoe racks next to the door—, she followed Deguchi-sama down a narrow corridor that led to the living. To her left was a small kitchen, which consisted of a fridge next to the sink along with the stove. To her right, a shelving unit consisting of several cubes separated the corridor from a modest room where a fluffy bed stood alongside a bedtable. Finally, the young woman arrived at the living, which was made up of little more than a couple of armchairs arranged in an L shape around a tiny table, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall in front of it. Saori could not understand how people managed to live in such small spaces, especially in her country. After all, her own bedroom was about the size of half the flat she was in, which was bigger than a typical studio apartment. At least the window on one side would offer enough light during the day.

Deguchi-sama offered her a seat in one of the armchairs along with something to drink, Saori agreeing only to the former. After some casual and pleasant talk to break the ice followed by a brief report of Saori's day, her father's secretary decided to cut to the chase. "So, you're telling me the nightmares came back?" she said, her eyes studying the young woman's reaction.

Saori turned her face away. Her eyes were haunted, not because she was a shy person who would break down to a piercing look, but because of her own weakness, one she would not dare to show even to that woman she had recently come to trust. She was not like that; she had gone through a lot, and she would eventually leave that behind. But when? According to Deguchi-sama, she was suffering from a condition known as posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). It was a common mental health problem experienced by those who had lived through an event in which their lives had been put at risk, such as an accident, a s.e.x.u.a.l assault or military combat. In Saori's case, the event in question had been the attack on the US Embassy little more than six months before.

Both she and her brother had tested their advanced suits for the first time in live combat along with an experienced assault team. Unfortunately, the members of Amaterasu took them by surprise when they detonated a series of bombs as a last resort, unleashing hell before the eyes of the entire world. Symptoms began to appear a few months later; situations in her daily life had led her to relive that event; she got irritated more easily than usual, had trouble sleeping and used to be startled by nonsense, always nervous and looking for some source of immediate danger. Her father had suggested she should attend to his veteran group's meetings, but she had declined the offer. She thought it was something she had to solve on her own. Yet, as time passed, Saori realized she could not face it alone and ended up turning to Hachiko on Tetsuya's advice.

But a long time had passed since then. At first, she had managed to mitigate her symptoms, but they had bounced back hard as evidenced by her actions during the pursuit of the one-handed man. Saori nodded in admission, avoiding her gaze. "I even wake up sweating, my heart beating fast," she said, troubled. "I barely sleep."

"What about the pills I gave you?" Hachiko asked her.

"I couldn't take them. I was afraid to go back to sleep."

What Saori omitted to say, although it was something possible to infer, was that she did not want to relive that moment. She had been having a recurring nightmare in which she was in a closed room, surrounded by dancing flames that struggled against the darkness while she tried to approach a couple of a.d.u.l.ts embracing each other, cornered by a beam that had been detached from the ceiling. She had experienced something similar while trying to rescue civilians following the detonation. However, in her dream, she was without her armor, exposed to the heat of the flames consuming her clothes and the sweat pouring from her forehead. She felt weak, paralyzed by fear as the walls around her faded into the fire. She did not recall knowing the couple's identities either, but there in the confines of her subconscious, they seemed familiar to her.

"I saw their faces as clear as if I had known them for a lifetime," Saori elaborated, her eyes still avoiding Hachiko's. "I couldn't do anything, I wasn't even wearing my armor."

Hachiko frowned, confused. "The scene you described to me wasn't exactly like it happened. You had your armor on. Even if you didn't stop the bombing from occurring, you saved some lives."

"I know!" Saori yelled, exasperated by Hachiko's claims as she looked straight into her eyes. "But I also remember those who succ.u.mbed to the debris and the flames. I failed them!"

"You didn't. You weren't so exposed, and you weren't alone either."

"That's not how I felt it," Saori said in a low voice, almost a whisper. Then, she remembered what Deguchi-sama had said to her once. "You told me our memories are not ruled by exact details, but by how we felt about those circ.u.mstances." The young girl shook her head in frustration, then bowed it down as though she had given in to her resignation. She remained silent for a few moments, her mind wandering in search of comfort and coming up with the one single thing that could give her strength at that moment. She decided to share it with the woman that might as well be her only true support.

As she choked back a sob, a half smile was outlined on her face as she said, "When I practiced gymnastics as a child, I loved the discipline it entailed. As long as I practiced enough and mastered every single movement, everything would be fine. I thought this was going to be something similar, but I was wrong."

"Not everything is about success or failure, Saori," Hachiko said. "And you have to stop demanding so much of yourself and setting unreal bars. There are situations that will develop beyond your control. And you are part of a team. We all work together."

A beat. Her father's secretary closed her eyes and massaged her temples; it looked like she was trying to discern what she would do next. With every second that passed, Saori grew impatient. "Is there something else you remember of what really happened?"Hachiko said at last. "Any other sensation?"

"Only that I felt paralyzed and helpless," Saori spat out the answer. She was tired of speaking the exact same words over and over again in the many occasions they had spoken of the subject.

"You have to understand that memories of traumatic events can be misleading, we usually tend to—"

"You're not paying attention to me!" Saori seethed, her eyes shimmering between flames of fury and tears of pain. "That's how I felt! I just want to leave all of this behind for good!" Saori came to realize she was stirring, her face reflecting her sudden outbreak of overflowing emotions. She was not like that. Once she relaxed and regained her composure, she became aware she was losing the strife against her own frustrations. Her eyes were now wet, and the fire in her soul had vanished. Ashamed, her gaze turned sideways as her right hand moved over her left arm. "This isn't working."

"There's no magical solution here, Saori, no single way to get out of the abyss," Hachiko said honestly, trying to tackle her with the harsh truth, "There are only inner steps to be taken. One day, you will come to terms with the fact that, deep down, it wasn't your fault, despite things you did or didn't do."

That was what bothered Saori the most. She had to wait... for what, exactly? For reasons beyond her comprehension, the problem she had could not be analyzed or explained by terms with which she was familiar, much less methods to which she could stick. She wanted facts, routines to which she could adhere to. To talk about the same thing all the time, to express her emotions... How could those things help her to move on? She had no evidence that what Hachiko was offering was to her would lead to a definitive solution. Therefore, she was skeptical of such methods.

Hachiko seemed to have felt her doubts, as she rose from her chair and joined her at her side. "I can only guide you, Saori. You must learn to love yourself more, trust your skills. You told me when you danced as a girl, you felt confident, in control. Strong. Ever since the incident, you see yourself fragile and insecure. You fear to freeze once again when the situation requires of you the most."

Almost without realizing it, Saori found herself immersed in Hachiko's words, her heedful eyes fixed on hers. Was it possible she had paid so much attention to the details that something important had escaped her? "As if there were two parts of me?" she said, in realization. "One who wears the suit and another one who doesn't?"

"In a way, yes. It's a division that helps you face your pain, but you want to kill that weak part, that pain. And yet, you are all of it. Both parts. You have to let that pain out, talk more about it so you can face it head on and learn to forgive yourself."

A faint smile gripped the girl's face. While Deguchi-sama was a professional who offered her own qualities both to the project of which they were part and to her, she had always remained firm by her side. She had shown compassion and had offered help both in quantity and quality, despite the twists and turns of her condition. Saori knew Hachiko had assumed certain risks in treating a patient who, in one way or another, was quite close to her. Therapy of such characteristics required much objectivity to offer beneficial results, not to mention that knowing so much about Saori gave her a certain advantage. That was the reason why Hachiko had always insisted she had to do things on her own to avoid becoming dependent on her support. She was so strong, so pure and honorable. Saori could not help but admire her.

And yet, her own fortitude was hanging by a thread. During the last few days, she had concentrated on keeping her mind on what she was good at, especially the practices of the archery club. Saori was very afraid to try other things, to fail again. In the end, both the project and her role in it were everything that kept her afloat. Her strong part was linked to it and the suit she wore in battle. She needed it. But if she failed again, she would lose everything and others would take her place. That was a thought that she could not bear. Saori had lost her mother and had abandoned her childhood dreams. No matter how smart and capable she was, she did not think she would be able to move on without the project. It was all she had left.

While her mind wandered around the concept, Saori resolved to give words to her thoughts. "It's all about the suit, then. After all, I'm just a tool ready to fulfill a purpose. If I don't carry on my duties, I can be discarded as if nothing."

"That's how you feel?" Hachiko said, surprised. "You know you're much more than that! You have to stop seeing your failures as something definitive. Just reflect on them as experiences that will help you improve."

The young girl nodded at her, somehow understanding what she wanted to say. In a way, she was right. So far, Saori's way of thinking had not taken her anywhere, at least when it came to that particular problem. She knew what she was capable of, and she was sure she had given the best of her. The more afraid she was, the more insecure she would become, and so she would definitely lose everything. She had to trust in her own abilities so that she would not give in to fear."Well, I think it was enough," said Hachiko as she rose from her seat. "I'll see you next week, Yoshimura-chan."

"Alright..." Saori replied, having completely lost the sense of time. "Thank you for everything, Hachiko—" she hesitated for a moment, then corrected herself while bending over from her waist in a sign of respect, "Deguchi-san."

Hachiko smiled back at her with an almost maternal glow in her eyes. Saori left the apartment feeling her gaze, both probably thinking they had taken a major step forward during their therapy session.