Even though Sasuke still seems afraid to step forward, I can also see hints of guilt on his face, Taylor’s manipulation wrapping around him like a vise. As if he’d suddenlyowedthis operation something, like he’d felt obligated to her—but most of all, like whatever happens to Jax will be his fault if he leaves. He meets her gaze now, and I can see traces of that unspoken bond between them, the accumulation of their days spent together and their nights huddled away in a nook.
I find myself wishing silently for Sasuke to turn and run away, to leave it all behind. Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, I see his shoulders droop again, his head lower ever so slightly, and him take the first steps away from the door and back toward the lab table.
“Let her go now,” he says to Taylor about Jax. On the table, Jax shoots a bewildered look at him, some panicked expression telling him not to do it.
Taylor smiles. “And you’re not going to run.”
“I’m not going to run.”
“And you’re going to commit to this.”
Sasuke hesitates, briefly meeting the woman’s eyes. “I will,” he replies.
The recording ends. I realize that my heart is beating so fast now that I’ve had to sit down on the floor of my room.
The next scene is dated only a month later, but Sasuke is a little taller, his limbs longer and his body ganglier. The most noticeable change on him is a single, thin strip of black metal now running along the side of his head, where part of his hair has been newly buzzed again. He’s back in the same laboratory, and answering a series of questions from the same technician who had been working with Taylor before.
“State your name.”
“Sasuke Tanaka.”
“Your age.”
“Twelve.”
I do the quick calculation. By this point, Hideo was fourteen, I was eleven, and Warcross had already become an international phenomenon, the NeuroLink welcomed into millions of households.
“Your city of birth.”
“London.”
“What is the name of your brother?”
“Hideo Tanaka.”
“Your mother?”
“Mina Tanaka.”
The questions go on for a while, a long list of simple facts and details about his life. I watch Sasuke’s face as he mentions the names of his loved ones—and for the first time, I notice that he doesn’t seem to react to the names. No flinch. No wince. There is recognition that sparks in his eyes, but it is as if he were saying the names of acquaintances instead of his family members.
“Show him the TV,” Taylor says.
The technician pauses to switch on the screen. As we look on, the TV plays an interview with Hideo, now gradually growing into his newfound fame. I glance back at Sasuke. Not long ago, he had grabbed Jax’s arm and cried at the sight of his brother. Now he watches the interview with some notable interest, although he doesn’t seem truly affected by it. It’s as if he were fascinated by a celebrity instead of missing his brother.
The questions start again.
“Who is this?”
“Hideo Tanaka.”
“And is he your older brother?”
“Yes.”
“Do you miss him?”
A hesitation, then a shrug.
