Part 20 (1/2)

Before long, the slides ended, and the room brightened again.

”I'll open up the floor now if anyone has any questions...”

At that moment, Kiyomi's right arm twitched.

By the time she realized it, her hand had shot straight up into the air.

Is.h.i.+hara was visibly surprised at this. Some of the students turned around and gave her a quizzical look. Tos.h.i.+aki, who was about to pack up the slide projector, stopped what he was doing.

”Go ahead, please .”The professor smiled and pointed at her.

Kiyomi wondered if she was dreaming as she stood, poised and tall. Her lips moved of their own accord. She had no idea what she was saying.

”In today's lecture, you pointed out that mitochondria are, in essence, enslaved by the nuclei of their hosts. True, mitochondrial DNA codes only rRNA and tRNA and just a few other enzymes of the electron transport chain, so it would seem impossible for mitochondria to survive on their own. According to your explanation, this came about because the nucleus extracted hereditary information originally held by mitochondria. But don't you think it's a bit rash to conclude that mitochondria were therefore enslaved by nuclei? Couldn't we say the opposite is true? In other words, it could well be the case that mitochondria actively sent genes into nuclei, of their own volition. Not all of the nuclear genome has been sequenced yet. Perhaps, in the portions that haven't been a.n.a.lyzed yet, we'll find crucial genes that mitochondria secretly inserted into nuclei. What if the proteins encoded by those genes are as yet unknown nuclei-s.h.i.+fting receptors that can manipulate copies and translations of the host's genes? This would cast mitochondrial symbiosis in a whole new light, I think. In short, isn't the following hypothesis tenable? Namely that, in the near future, these parasites we call mitochondria will enslave their hosts The room was dead silent, save for the low whir of the slide projector fan. No one moved a muscle. Is.h.i.+hara just stood there with mouth agape.

Leaves rustled as a gust of wind blew the trees outside. At this, everyone turned away or coughed nervously. The professor scanned the room and, picking Tos.h.i.+aki out from among the crowd, glared at him as if to say, ”What the h.e.l.l was that all about?”The students began to stir. Kiyomi sat down calmly. She straightened her back and smiled, staring Is.h.i.+hara right in the eye.

”Er, well, that was out of the blue, but an excellent question.”

The professor forced an embarra.s.sed cough. He was trembling slightly and at a total loss for an answer. Kiyomi flashed him a look of ridicule. Upon noticing this, he choked back his discomfort and faltered as he attempted an answer. But soon his words ebbed into silence.

He was certainly accepting of criticism, but the ideas she had proposed were too outlandish for him. It was simply a viewpoint no researchers held. He tried his best to wrap his mind around it, but failed.

Just as I thought...1 was right. Only Tos.h.i.+aki genuinely understands mitochondria. HE IS MY TARGET. I?.

Kiyomi looked up suddenly.

At that moment, she regained control over her body. She slumped forward.

Her hand unconsciously grabbed the desk, stopping herself just before she hit her chin on the seat in front of her.

Who was this ”I'?

She could not shake the feeling that her heart was slouching forth into a bottomless abyss.

That morning, Tos.h.i.+aki and Kiyomi left home at the same time.

Kiyomi woke up at her usual hour, prepared breakfast, and ate together with her husband. It was a traditional meal featuring salmon and eggs cooked in the j.a.panese style.

When they stepped outside of the apartment door, a weak morning sunlight shone down from a break in the clouds. Walking down the stairs together, they b.u.mped into the couple who lived on the second floor, and they all exchanged slight bows.

”Okay, I'm off,” said Tos.h.i.+aki.

Kiyomi beamed him a smile and waved to him as he got into the driver's seat. Then she got into her recently purchased compact. She put her handbag on the pa.s.senger's seat and started the engine. The night before, she had written a letter to Chika for the first time in a long while. Kiyomi had become lazy about keeping in touch with old friends and wanted to regain some semblance of reliability. The letter was only pleasantries, but she thought it might rekindle what was once a frequent exchange between them.

After making sure the letter was in her bag, she unconsciously took out her wallet to see if she had her driver's license with her. Sandwiched carefully in between her license and auto-registration members.h.i.+p was her kidney donor card.

She started the car forward. Tos.h.i.+aki pulled out behind her. She turned right, Tos.h.i.+aki turned left, his waving figure reflected in her rear-view mirror.

Kiyomi drove for about five minutes through the neighborhood streets until she came out onto the main road. A bit congested, but no more than usual. It was a route she had traveled hundreds of times. Before long, the street sloped gently downward. The flow of traffic quickened as the road bore to the right. She watched the sky spreading out overhead through the winds.h.i.+eld.

And just after she saw the traffic light change to yellow beyond the curve, her sight faded to black.

20.

”Mariko is sleeping,” said the nurse as she and Anzai pa.s.sed each other in the hallway.

He responded with a small bow.

Visiting hours would be over soon. He could not put himself through this routine much longer, spending a few awkward hours in Mariko's room before returning to work.

There were, in fact, times when Anzai wondered why he even came at all. She was still putting up a front. He tried talking to her, but it was useless. Even before all this, they had hardly talked. Try as he might, the words just never came out.

So why was he even here?

He was only coming out of duty to his daughter.

Anzai had to admit that he was much more at ease at work. He no longer understood his own feelings.

When he opened the sickroom door and peeked inside, Mariko was sleeping just as the nurse had said, her body rising and falling with quiet breaths.

He closed the door softly so as not to wake her, walked silently over, and sat at her bedside.

She turned a little towards him in her sleep.

It had been a long time since he looked directly upon his daughter's face. He was ashamed to realize this. He saw Mariko every day now, and had not even gotten a good look at her.

Her lips were slightly open and slender eyelashes extended from her closed eyelids.

Her nose was still youthful and her cheeks faintly red from a slight fever. He had never noticed it before, but she bore a striking resemblance to her late mother. After Mariko was born, relatives often said she'd taken after her mother, yet Anzai didn't really see it back then.

Looking at her now, however, the traces left behind were uncanny.

He regretted not having done more for her. He let his head fall into his hands.

Just then, she began moaning.

He looked up worriedly.

Mariko was frowning. She was not fully awake, but her arms moved above her body as if trying to push something away. Anzai a.s.sumed she was just having a bad dream, but she looked to be in serious pain. Her voice grew louder. ”Mariko, what's wrong?”

Anzai stood up and reached out a hand to touch her, but she rolled over and brushed him away.

”You okay, Mariko?”

She practically screamed, kicking her legs back and forth. It was so sudden that Anzai had no idea what to do.