Chapter Forty-Four - Asako Kato
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Asako Kato
ASAKO LOOKED UP and down the deserted street, campus behind her, the faint glow of the diner ahead of her. She waited as a lone white sedan to pull off as she watched someone stalking away from the diner’s entrance.
She stepped in the familiar bells chimed her arrival. The diner hummed with quiet conversation, the occasional clink of plates and mugs breaking the quietude. Soft rock played at a low volume somewhere in the background. As she stepped inside her boots gave a crunch against the salt scattered on the floor to combat the snow outside. The warmth of the diner was a welcome contrast from the biting cold just outside. She sighed with relief as her glasses briefly fogged. A waitress stood near the corner booth sweeping shards of a broken plate into a neat pile with a small broom and dustpan. Asako’s sharp eyes caught the jagged edges of the glinting light and thought she spotted blood.
Sliding her gaze across the diner, she noticed a lone figure sitting in a corner booth — a woman with one long elegant gray braid draped over her shoulder. She was nursing a steaming cup of coffee and picking at a slice of cherry pie, her movements were slow but deliberate. Somehow she radiated patience, like she’d been waiting for this moment all evening.
Asako made her way over, and her stomach gave a loud growl in protest. “Sil Clearwater?”
The woman looked up, her warm, weathered face breaking into a kind smile. Her voice was gentle but carried a strength.
“You must be Asako. Please, have a seat.” She replied, gesturing to the other side of the booth.
Asako slid into her side of the booth, shedding her coat and scarf, her movements hurried, if not careless. A waitress approached with a glass of water, her hair askew. She pulled a straw from her apron and set the water down in front of Asako. “What can I get you?”
Without hesitation, “A chocolate malt and some fries, please,” Asako said, her stomach reminding her the peanut butter cookies and blueberry Danish from earlier had hardly satisfied her, especially after a day of sleuthing.
Sil chuckled softly, her hands cupping her coffee mug. “A good combination for a night like this.” She said looking out the window. Large snow flakes were falling, blanketing the ground.
Asako smirked, “Comfort food after a day like mine is essential.”
The waitress disappeared and the two women sat in companionable silence for a moment. Asako adjusted herself in the booth, peeling off gloves and rubbing her hands together. She reached into her crossbody producing her familiar notepad and pen.
Sil waited patiently, a faint smile on her lips. Asako felt her eyes observing her, studying her movements, as if she could see right through her.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Asako began, leaning forward slightly, “I’ve been trying to piece together a story, and your name kept coming up.”
Sil nodded slowly and took a long sip of coffee from her mug. “I expected you might come looking. Your sister, Izumi, was part of something…unique. Something I believed in once.” She said, her eyebrow-raising.
“What exactly was it?” Asako added, her curiosity sparked despite her exhaustion.
Sil grabbed her fork and picked off a bite from the cherry pie. “I was a caseworker for a confidential government program tasked with finding children called Enhanced Neuro-Perceptives — ENPs for short. Some researchers call what they have neuroattunements, a kind of heightened sensitivity or extraordinary ability tied to the brain and nervous system.
Asako’s brows knitted together, “Neuro…attunements?”
Sil smiled faintly, “Something akin to psychic powers, or at least that is what some would call it. Other’s called it pseudoscience. The children I worked with didn’t fit neatly into either category. They were…special, but their abilities often brought them immense suffering. It wasn’t easy for them or for those trying to help them.”
“Why would the government care about these kids?” Asako asked, realizing her tone was rather terse.
“These children were being recruited for a specially designed program called Program Attunement Candidates — PAC for short. The idea was to track and study these children to understand their abilities. To help them cope in the face of great pain. Or, so I thought, there were those within the PAC who wished to harness these children for nefarious purposes. Over time, questions arose about the validity of the results of the program and the ethics of the methods. There was an awful man who led the project, Colonel Marcus Durant. He aimed to weaponize these children in the name of ‘national security.’ It was disgusting. Eventually, the program was leaked and investigated by government officials. It was disbanded several years ago.” Sil finished, sighing heavily.
The waitress returned, sliding the malt and fries in front of Asako. She murmured her thanks and glanced at the food hungrily. Asako reached over and took a fry dipping it in the chocolate malt and shoved it in her mouth.
“This program was aimed at training and weaponizing psychic children?” She said, her mouth full.
Sil frowned tracing the rim of her cup, “You could say that. At the time, I and my colleagues didn’t know that. It was simply a well-funded program aimed at helping a very rare and special group of children. You have to understand, as a caseworker, that the system has very few resources for foster children and even fewer resources for those with this unique set of problems.”
Asako scribbled in her note pad before taking another couple of fries dunking them in the malt and eating them. “So what happened to the kids? What happened to Izumi?”
Sil was silent for a moment, her gaze flickered a look of sadness, “Most of them were left to fend for themselves. Some were returned to the system, some went to the streets. There were a few private agencies interested in taking up the work of PAC. Izumi…was unique even among ENPs. Her abilities were rare and confounded researchers. It dumbfounded all of us, really.” Sil said leaning forward, her eyes bright.
“Your sister had a very unique ability. She could manipulate a person’s spatial awareness — effectively concealing herself. Making herself invisible to others. It made her life hell . It made helping her nearly impossible. She was a troubled girl, this you already knew. Her emotional sensitivity made her concealment unpredictable. Erratic. She would disappear for hours, sometimes days. The last time she was found, well, it was too late.” Sil heaved another deep sigh, her eyes moistened as she glanced outside.
Asako stared at Sil.
Sil leaned forward, speaking in a whispered hush, “The researchers said, it wasn’t just invisibility. She could make you forget her altogether. At times, anything with Izumi Kato’s name on it became nearly impossible to find. When we kept files or records on Izumi, we had to make multiple copies and keep them stored in separate facilities. Eventually, we learned that if we spelled her name wrong, then somehow her concealment wouldn’t affect the records. It was maddening.”
Sil leaned back and took another deep sip from her coffee, then looking around for the waitress, she gestured for a top-off.
Asako sat in silence, while the waitress scurried to their table filling Sil’s coffee cup. Her sister could make herself invisible to others. Make others forget her? She could warp other’s perceptions of their memories of her. It was by sheer miracle that Asako remembered her at all. This would explain why her parents seemingly forgot about Izumi. Why with each passing holiday, they spoke of her less and less. A pang of grief and anger frothed up inside Asako.
“I don’t know the details of her death,” Sil said, reaching for a sugar packet. “But I have some colleagues who might know some things. We will exchange contact information—”
“You thought you were helping her?” Asako snapped, venom laced her words.
“I did,” Sil said softly. “I truly believed I was. These children didn’t fit anywhere. They were bright, sensitive, and easily overwhelmed by the world around them. I thought…maybe this program could offer them a future. A way to cope with their special circumstances,” Sil’s voice cracked, and tears formed in her eyes once more.
Asako shook her head, unsure whether to feel pity or rage. She pushed her malt away, her appetite vanishing. Then, pulling the malt towards her, she bit her lip. “And Ethan Hernandez?”
Sil’s expression darkened, “Ethan’s case was one of the most difficult I had ever encountered. His mother’s death, his father’s disappearance…he was independent to a fault. Foster families wanted to care for him. Over and over they offered to adopt him, but he refused to bond with them. I always thought he believed his father was still out there somewhere,” Sil pointed through the window, “Ethan thought he hadn’t been abandoned but that something had happened to his father.”
Asako leaned back, trying to process the flood of information. She gestured towards the broken plate she’d seen earlier. “What about Halston?”
Sil grabbed her fork, plucking a cherry off the top of the pie, “Halston was…bright but troubled. She had a strange connection with this PAC scientist, Richard Bellamy. I don’t know the details, but I always found their dynamic unsettling. There were rumors about Bellamy’s own daughter being an ENP, but I never saw proof.”
The conversation trailed off, and Sil reached across the table her hand steady and warm. “I’m sorry about Izumi. Asako. I truly am. If it means anything, I’ll reach out to my contacts. I’ll find out what I can for you. I never intended for this to happen.”
Asako nodded, her throat tight. “Thank you.”
The two women exchanged contact information and parted ways at the door, Sil paying the tab. Asako lingered for a moment staring at the glow of the streetlights. She was dazed by the information she had received tonight. Sil had truly been the key to all of it, but for all those answers there were still so many new questions.
She stepped towards the curb deep in thought. In the distance, the bells from the Summit Spire tolled, their deep, resonant chimes cutting through the stillness. Something about those bells had made her stomach churn ever since seeing Naomi’s body. Asako stepped into the street when a screech of tires broke her concentration. A car stopped inches from her, a familiar voice bellowed from the driver’s side window, “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
Asako looked and found Detective Farmer leaning out the window shouting.
Before Asako could respond, a golden light emanated from the direction of the bell tower, catching both of the women’s attention. Farmer’s expression shifted from irritation to concern as she glanced towards the source.
“What the hell is that?” Farmer muttered.
Asako didn’t answer. Her feet were already moving towards the campus, towards the direction of the light.
She heard Farmer call after her.