A Transparent Lens

…Sarai trembled as if his skeleton was trying to escape his skin.

The eyes fractured across the air, one subject in their pupils – the trapped Sarai.

Mitsu’s face and hands bloomed with tiny rifts. They sprang open, the pupils swimming inside them projected a terrifying aura, fully mutating her into a vessel of what she believed in.

“The Eye,” she muttered, “is what I am bound to.”

The Eye… Sarai stifled a swallow. His lips trembled, “Mitsu-san… What's the meaning of this?”

Mitsu leaned left, “This is the security procedure I told you about.”

“I don't understand…”

“You don't have to,” she sighed, the lenses adorning her skin flickering like ancient lamps.

“Before I do anything, you need to answer me.

“What's your goal behind all of this?” she asked.

“My… goal?”

“You're joining a Faithful agency, there must be a reason, no?”

The two stared at each other for a moment, Sarai's eyes roaming in malaise every now and then.

Calm down… These eyes are driving me mad… I should just lie. I can't afford revealing my identity. He exhaled, and rested his shaking arms on the wooden table.

“I suffer from memory loss. I wanted to recover some knowledge, that's why I joined.” He gasped, "I can't afford the price of information after all.” His body was shaking noticeably.

Mitsu chuckled for a handful of seconds, “Sarai-kun, look around you.”

In panic, Sarai looked over his shoulders and behind him. The stares surrounding him widened, swallowing his temper.

“M-Mitsu-san…” He bit his lips in terror. Eventually, he could taste their blood as it slid in his tongue.

“The eyes can see through your façade, young man.” Mitsu leaned forward, crossing her hands.

“Now tell me,” she poked out her tongue. An unblinking eye set into it, “why did you join us?”

T-This… Sarai's heart pounded against his ribs. The pupils hollowed out, and he, at that terrifying sight, crumbled down. That so-called façade of his crumbled like a sand castle under a wave.

“M-Make this stop…” he mumbled.

Blink.

“Please…”

Blink.

“Make it stop…”

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

Whether he looked up, down, left, or right, the blinking, dark eyes observed his very core unceasing.

The world seemed to shiver through him, and he could no longer keep his composure.

“Fine… I'll tell you… I give up.” A desperate whisper escaped his breath.

“Very well.” Mitsu snapped her fingers, the gazes retreating in response.

“...All these 17 years I lived... lived? I don't think so. Well…

“...I haven't really had anything to look forward to, except for knowledge, and perhaps history too.” He propped his elbow on the table and buried his hands on his face, allowing his head to hang heavy.

“I lived in a calm village of the Faithful with my family. Barely any memories were made, but I remember the sight of everyone slaughtered in the Magic Cleansing Operations held by the government,” he chuckled. “Not that I cared much about my family or the villagers.”

“I was 10 at the time, kids my age were taken to special orphanages. You know, human rights associations pressed the government for such things.” His palms caught sweat from his black hair, growing damp.

“I didn't ask about your life story–

Smash! The wooden table shook under Sarai's fist, cutting Mitsu's faint voice.

“Since then…” He gasped, “I forgot what it is to really live.”

“The only fun I had was when reading books, ones I had to steal from the libraries of the facility.” He breathed a soft laugh, “Of course, that fun died when I was crushed under boots and fists. Knowledge wasn't allowed for us after all.”

Drip. Drip. Was it sweat that soaked the wooden table? Or Sarai's inevitable tears? That Mitsu couldn't tell, but could easily guess once the young man raised his face. His pupils liquefied like a lake.

“Now, even my memory is dying. Die, dead, death. What else is life about?” He stood, his voice louder than usual.

On the other side of the table, Mitsu saw in him an oppressed child whose cage corroded. Perhaps, a late corrosion. A sight that resembled self-reflection.

She gazed at him as if gazing at a dusty mirror.

“You're Faithful, Sarai-kun.” Mitsu stood. She approached the sobbing young man, who froze at the sound of her thudding heels.

She circled around Sarai, finally appearing behind him. “The Faithful don't seek the meaning of life.” Her hands weighed down his shoulders, putting him back to his seat.

Mitsu leaned closer to his ear and whispered, “They shape a meaning for it, their Faith being the compass, their Magic being the engine.” She wrapped her arms in a secure circle around his neck and chest.

“Relax. You're not alone.” Her cold breath tugged at his cheek.

“Now tell me.” She hooked her chin over his shoulder. “Why do you want to join us?”

Sarai fell silent for a second.

Why… He raised his head, glancing at the torrent of eyes.

“I want… to learn more, and hold onto something,” he sighed, “Perhaps, I'll understand the point behind life then.”

“I see.” Mitsu withdrew and stepped back to her seat. The lamp went out the moment she sat.

Like stars hanging in a polluted night sky, the eyes adorning Mitsu’s face and hands illuminated the murky room, the ones behind her and around the room falling into slumber.

What now…?

Mitsu extended her right arm, opened her hand, the eye inside her palm staring at Sarai deeply.

“Don't blink.” The white illumination from the pupil sent a burning sensation into Sarai's sclerae. Eventually, he felt a blinding migraine plaguing at the back of his right eye.

“Aaaaagh!” His neck veins bulged following a pained howl. He buried his fingers around his temples, resisting the urge to slam his head on the table.

“M-Mitsu…san… What are you doing... to me?” He could barely pronounce a word.

Suddenly, he could no longer see a thing. That darkness engulfed him for mere seconds, before numerous flashes of scenes and visions tumbled through his mind.

Finally, he began visualizing himself on the other side of the table. Was it his eye that he saw that scene from? No, clearly not. He shared Mitsu's eye for mere seconds before the pain and flashing visions faded into the murk.

What the hell…? My head hurts… Sarai, who felt a thriving discomfort all over his body, rested his head on the table, not even bothering to ask Mitsu for anything.

The closed, dark rifts fracturing the room’s air began fading. Mitsu’s Faith mutation vanished as the eyes sank beneath her skin. The wound on her blind eye healed almost instantly.

Her blind regenerated, just like Enji’s palm… My neck too. But it's still blinded… Strange.

“Your right eye is now also mine.” She leaned forward, crossing her hands dominantly. “I will be able to see what you see most of the time, and know when you're in danger.”

Sarai remained silent as his mind raced over the words.

Suddenly, Thump. He stood, slamming the table with both hands, hinting at shock. But complaining he couldn't.

She will see… what I see…

“No worries,” she raised her hand, “I'm nothing like Enji, I'll only check on you when necessary.”

“I see…” Sarai fell back to his seat.

“By the way, how old are you?” Mitsu asked curiously.

“I’m 17.”

“Quite young. How tall are you?”

“I'm not sure but I think it's around 174 centimeters.”

“I see. Same as me.”

Sarai was silent for a moment before, “Why are you asking?” he mumbled.

“Just extra information for the files,” she replied

Sarai's face brightened immediately, “Does that mean…?”

“Yes, you're one of us now, Sarai-kun,” Mitsu smiled, “Welcome to The Transparent Lenses Agency.”

The Transparent Lenses… Fits this place perfectly.

Sarai instantly stood, “Thank you!” He bowed.

Mitsu got up and stepped toward a dusty drawer on the right. She opened it, and in a few seconds, pulled a peculiar vial from it. A mana suppressant.

“Sarai-kun,” Mitsu turned the vial cap, “Let's head back.” She consumed the potion.

“Alright.”

The two left the murky, sealed room, and passed by the empty library. Mitsu turned off the light after taking her coat, keys, and a book with her. They got in the elevator, and fell back to the bottom floor.

…

Japan–somewhere deep in the ruins.

Even the soldiers’ flashlights struggled to illuminate the cave's ghastly darkness.

Dressed in white, military uniforms, they swept their flashlights, the beams revealing a grotesque image that reeked of death.

Ignoring the dead bodies that seemed to be of children, the soldiers welled up at a different sight.

On the ground, at the center, numerous white uniforms like those of theirs were thrown like trash, soaked in maroon, sticky blood. Next to them, scattered, cold metal guns topped the coppery blood beneath.

“Who could have…”

“They even took the bodies… Devils!”

They moaned collectively , tears refreshing their dry skin.

Thud. Thud. A figure entered the cave.

It was a middle aged, brown-haired man. A few strands had slipped from the knot at the nape of his neck, covering the barely noticeable wrinkles

on his forehead.

His jaw was covered in short, patchy stubble, and a net of red veins traced the whites of his eyes. He was buttoned up in a brown coat, dressed in loose, white trousers in the lower half.

On his back, a long, black umbrella with a sharp head was vertically strapped. Its handle peeking above his collar.

“M-Masato Kurose-san… You were right, this is the place.” A sobbing soldier turned toward the brown-haired man, Masato Kurose.

Kurose nodded, he pulled a flashlight from his pocket, and let the beams lead him through the obscure cave.

For children to reach this deep in the ruins. An escape?

With every step on the blood rivers, he shifted his gaze from a massacred body to another, examining them with the precision of a veteran.

The Faithful kids’ faces are all skinned. He stared at the glistening flesh beyond the children’s flayed visages.

Determined. Very determined.

Watching him examine the victims, the soldiers couldn't hold their chatter.

“Hey, he's just another Faithful pig. Why are you so formal with ‘em?”

“I know dumbass, but he’s a detective from The Blasphemy Nullification Division.

“Ya ought to respect him. He could kill us right now. Unlike dogs like us, BND’s members are irreplaceable.”

“Isn't BND a team of Faithful Sorcerers that work for the government? They sound like dogs more than us normal people.”

“You're right. At least, they’re at the top.”

“The top, huh?”

Silence.

“What is he doing? He froze there for a whole minute.” The two soldiers stared at Kurose in a daze.

At the center, Kurose stood like a statue, his head tilting toward the ground, his gaze locked onto the soldiers’ blood-soaked uniforms.

Suddenly, he flinched and looked back.

“You two, contact the higherups right now.” he said, his face unusually drenched in sweat. “I demand a precise body examination of all the children's corpses here.”

he bit his lip, his eyes narrowing, “One is missing.”

“Roger!” barked the two soldiers, before rushing out of the cave like obedient dogs.

This is… exciting. One couldn't tell whether Kurose was thrilled or afraid. After all, the expression carved on his face was a twisted one.

He unbuttoned his coat, drew a stack of papers from an inside pocket, and sank in the first page’s content.

ARTICLE: Missing children of Izumi’s Faithful Rehabilitation Orphanage

Hayato Ken: 15 years old

…

Renji Kaoru: 14 years old

…

Ayame Misaki: 12 years old

…

Akira Hina: 16 years old

…

Sarai Kanazaki: 17 years old

…

I wonder who… Thought Kurose. His gaze shifted back to the soaked soldiers’ uniforms at the ground beneath him.

At first look, I thought the bodies were taken away… But… He stifled a swallow, his throat tightening.

Could it be really that… the bodies degenerated from existence…? …What could have possibly caused this?

To think about it is just… exciting. He trembled, swaying on his feet, caught between the waves of dread and exhilaration.

Kurose raised his head, glancing upward at the suffocating roof. His flashlight flickering.

He unhooked the umbrella from his back, and flicked it open.

“A red winter is at the doors,” he whispered, a lopsided smile curved on his face like a reaper’s scythe.