“Mind if I take another of those drinks from the fridge?”
Miyoshi waved a hand in approval, his back turned. Toshihiko got out of the bed and headed for the minifridge. Once again, he was impressed by how spacious and empty the living room was. In spite of all the lies, the part about Miyoshi moving out was probably true. Toshihiko shoved aside the clothes that had been haphazardly discarded on the sofa and took a gulp of mineral water. It relieved a little of his weariness.
“Why are you…?” Miyoshi still wouldn’t look at him. “How can you be so casual about this?”
Toshihiko sighed. This man, who was almost eight inches taller than him, suddenly looked very small.
“If I’d gotten all emotional and started crying, would you have stopped?”
Miyoshi had let his passion control him at the start of it. He’d been pretty rough, but as time went on, he began to regain some of his composure. That was when fear had crept into his eyes. Eventually, Miyoshi started to look like he might break down and cry at any moment.
“I don’t think I could have,” he mumbled softly.
“It’s not like it was my first time, either.”
Toshihiko had a hard time understanding love. He loved his mother, and he’d had strong feelings toward Eiko, but everyone else in the world was just the same to him. He never felt the urge to treat any of them differently than the others. He doubted if he ever would. For someone who aspired to a “normal” lifestyle, that was a pretty terrifying prospect.
He’d chosen to believe he just hadn’t met the right person yet. He’d tried out several “test runs” to see if his feelings would change. Men, women, people who didn’t fit into either of those boxes. But in the end, none of them made him feel the way he was supposed to. If pushed for an answer, his feelings for Rumi came the closest. But it wasn’t as if he wanted to get married and spend the rest of his life with her.
“I’m kind of disappointed,” Miyoshi said, his voice cracking.
He had some nerve saying that. Toshihiko felt a little envious of him. Miyoshi was gifted, too, but more human than him. He’d idealized the person he loved from afar and became disillusioned when reality didn’t live up to his expectations. That said, even after being put through all this, Toshihiko still didn’t have it in him to hate Miyoshi.
“Now, in exchange… No, that sounds a little weird, doesn’t it? I’m sure going a few rounds with me doesn’t actually equate to using your system. But if you’ve really managed to make an ID, do you think you could show me?”
“It’s right over there. Do what you want with it.”
Miyoshi got up, his voice gruffer and louder than it needed to be. His face was flushed, and his eyes looked swollen. He pointed across the room to a coffee table with a tablet on it.
“What’s your password?” Toshihiko asked. Miyoshi groaned.
“It’s your birthday.”
He input the eight digits that made up Toshihiko’s date of birth and saw several files. He tapped the one labeled M-TOSHIHIKO and opened it. It was the merged model of him and Miyoshi (but mostly him) that he’d seen at the lab before.
“I guess this isn’t it.”
“Well, obviously not, dammit!”
Miyoshi stomped over to the table, pushing Toshihiko aside. His face was redder than ever now.
“Sorry.”
The apology didn’t do much. Miyoshi just looked away.
“So… Hey.”
“What?”
“You know how I said I was moving?”
Toshihiko nodded, and after an uncomfortable silence, the other man went on.
“I’m going to America.”
That made sense. Miyoshi had contributed to that investigation in Montana, after all. He said “they” had requested him and his process. The request must have come from the police. They’d probably been just as surprised by the accuracy of the results Miyoshi’s system could produce. And now that they’d seen what it could do, they couldn’t very well let him go.
For all the talk about the American Dream, the US was probably even harsher than Japan when it came to people with no obvious talent. But the flip side was that it promised lavish rewards for anyone with talent it could exploit. A genius like Miyoshi would have much better prospects living there.
“How about that? Well, I hope you’ll—”
He was going to give some generic statement of encouragement like “I hope you’ll keep doing your best over there,” but Miyoshi interrupted him.
“Will you come with me?”
Miyoshi took Toshihiko’s left hand in his right. He was trembling like a newborn deer.
“You could quit your job. You said you’re only doing it because you get a little crazy if you don’t feel like part of society anyway. You’re fine with whatever job so long as you’re around people, right? You may not have all the honors, but you did graduate from the same college as me. There’ll be so many opportunities for you. And it’ll get you away from this stalker woman, too. She’ll never chase you across the ocean. So…”
“I hope you’ll keep doing your best over there.”
Toshihiko lowered Miyoshi’s hand to the table. His friend’s thin smile stiffened and eventually disappeared. He poked around on the tablet and practically threw it at Toshihiko.
He was bound to see a 3D model of Midori. A tall woman with classic, understated features would be smiling back at him. He looked down at the screen…
“Who the hell is this?”
It was the same woman he’d seen on the train before she disappeared. The same smile. The only response to his questions was Miyoshi’s faint sobs coming from the other room.