Seeing Through The Mist

Sword practice was a class I found the most useless. It was a class brought to this day in age from the old classes they used to have hundreds of years ago. Back then they were mostly used to determine whether someone could become a knight or not—at least in this country.

But now that being a knight wasn’t something you could really be, it was mostly for recreational purposes. And self-defense, I guess.

I really wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for Ze’Seki. She spent quite some time rambling on about some of those ‘fun facts’ on the second day of our lessons.

Anyway.

A thump hit against a wooden pole.

I pulled back my arm then traced the same arc again.

Thump!

Fighting against a still object wasn’t the most enticing way of spending my time, but it was either that or sparring with one of my classmates. That was the last thing I wanted to do. And probably the last thing anyone from my class wanted to do either.

Twack!

I hit the pole at an odd angle, sliding the blade off the side and hitting the ground. The wooden blade made an odd cracking noise, but there weren’t any clear signs of damage.

“Hey Tsutsumi, cut that out before I make you pay for the floor!” yelled Ms. Vernadew.

Not waiting for a response, she began yelling at some other kid for messing up a swing nearby.

Why the director of the school was teaching sword fighting was beyond me. She wore the school’s athletic outfit of a shirt and shorts but didn’t tie up her long hair for some reason. That made every swing she took flaunt her white hair all over not only herself but her opponent too.

Maybe it was a tactical advantage thing?

Well, whatever the reason was, what I could say was that her being here at all made this class ten times harder.

I raised my sword and prepared for another swing.

“Yo, Tsutsumi.”

Stopping myself mid-swing, I quickly turned to the voice calling my name.

“Oh, you.”

“That’s quite condescending,” The Pantherian boy smiled.

“Are you a masochist or something?”

“Huh, what gave you that impression?”

“You seem quite happy at being insulted.”

Totoro shook his hand, “No, no, you’re missing the point here. I’m just happy you’re so willing to talk.”

“Huh?”

What did that mean? I wouldn’t call my responses signs of my willingness to talk either.

“Think fast!”

With blazing speed, Totoro swung his sword down.

I barely managed to swing up and parry it.

Without missing a beat, he immediately swung back down, giving me a split second to block.

Clack!

We locked blades.

I gritted my teeth as the impact shook my arms up to my shoulders.

“You look a little shaken.”

“Who…randomly swings at someone?!”

Well, Kokoro does I guess, but I barely even knew this guy. What if I wasn’t able to block that first swing?

“Well you blocked it right? So what you say, want to spar?”

No. No I didn’t. That was the easy answer and the truth. I was quite content just swinging my sword off to the side.

“Oh, I see,” he pulled back his sword. While shaking his head, he said, “I guess you’re too scared I might win right?”

Huh?

“Yeah, don’t worry. I don’t blame you…” he turned away from me as he continued to disapprovingly shake his head.

A fire lit up in my heart.

Was it childish? Maybe. But I much preferred to call myself competitive. Especially when it came to something I knew I was pretty good at.

I lowered my stance, keeping my sword low. It was a bit hypocritical to call him out for randomly swinging at someone and then turning around and doing this, but if anything, it was payback.

Putting all my strength on my legs, I launched off the floor. My upward diagonal swing was quick, but—

Clack!

Without even turning, Totoro blocked my strike. In one fluid motion, he spun, keeping our blades close, then locked them again.

“That’s playing dirty, don’t you think?”

“You did the same.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “I guess I did.”

With one strong swing, he launched me back.

I caught my footing and then took my stance, holding the sword in front of me with both hands.

Totoro took a similar stance, but the concentration on his face spoke of how skillful he probably was. I probably was making a huge mistake sparring with him. I mean, he was able to block a strike without even looking. Give me a hundred years and I probably still wouldn’t be able to do that.

Or maybe I’m exaggerating.

Whatever.

As if an invisible timer hit zero, Totoro took off, closing the distance between us at blinding speeds.

His swings were strong, but not much more than Kokoro’s were.

Still, I couldn’t strike, resorting to nothing but blocking.

Clack!

Clack!

The wood echoed throughout the large open training area. A few people had stopped their own sparring to watch ours.

No pressure I guess.

With one large swing, I pushed him back enough to give myself space. I swung diagonally once more, but instead of hitting against his blade, the moment he tried to block it, I thrust forward.

Brsh!

In the nick of time, he slammed his sword down and pushed it off to the side.

“That was a close one.”

I gritted my teeth. Using all my strength, I swung upward horizontally.

Again, he blocked my strike. However—

Shriik!

“Huh?” I let out.

My wooden sword, which usually could stand a beating, snapped. Was it because of that swing from earlier? Maybe there had been internal damage to the blade.

Whatever.

That didn’t matter right now.

Totoro’s blade stopped centimeters away from my face, but the snapped wood from my sword was launched straight at him.

He was a Pantherian. In other words, his reaction speed was fast. But even then, the broken piece slammed straight onto his eye.

I quickly dropped my blade.

Totoro held his eye. He groaned hunched over.

“Totoro!” Everyone around me yelled.

My classmates crowded around him. A few people pushed me out of the way.

“Are you okay?” they asked.

Totoro reassured them he was fine, but he didn’t let go of his eye.

I was really hoping I hadn’t accidentally messed up his eye. Never mind not being like and borderline hated, I’m certain I would be seen as the villain of McKinley—or something like that.

Between the mound of people, I caught a glimpse of Totoro’s face. He was looking at me with his good eye, but he wasn’t glaring at me or anything. He was doing a really weird thing where he was looking at me then at the door of the dojo.

It wasn’t subtle whatsoever, but it didn’t seem anyone was noticing it. Probably because everyone was worried, and he was hunched over.

Did he want me to help or something?

He continued doing that, but I really wasn’t getting it.

“You should go to the infirmary,” I heard someone mention.

As soon as they did, Totoro opened his eye more and signaled to the door with his head.

Oh, did he want me to take him to the infirmary? I mean, I guess it was my fault…

I sighed before walking towards the crowd.

“I’ll take him,” I plainly stated.

I didn’t wait for anyone’s approval and ignored everyone’s stares. Instead, I held him up from the side his eye had gotten hit and walked him out of the dojo.

“You’re really dense, aren’t you?”

“How was I supposed to know what you were saying?”

“Seemed obvious to me.”

“Like hell it was.”

As I made my way to the infirmary with him, he’d magically become able to walk normally again. His eye was still closed, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain.

“Couldn’t you have gone on your own?”

“Hey, I’m trying to help here, you know?”

“Help?”

“People already don’t like you, do you really want to give them more reason to feel that way?”

Ouch. I knew that already, but it hits different when someone else says it to you.

“At least now they might think you have some kindness in your heart.”

“Oh yeah, because I’m just a dark soulless machine.”

“Not far from what people think of you.”

Very well then.

No use discussing that.

The infirmary was close to the dojo and other sport-related stuff. Obviously, it was to make the time to get there as short as possible, but it also made it pretty far from everywhere else.

Either way, we got there in less than a minute.

The room was massive. Honestly, it looked more like an army’s infirmary than a school’s. The walls were a crisp white, and the tiles on the floor shined with the lights of the ceiling.

This wasn’t the first time I was here, but it was the first time I was here for a good reason.

After sliding the door behind us, I turned back to Totoro who was—

—pulling out his eye.

…

I blinked a few times.

Yep.

He pulled out his eye.

He’d simply dug in with two fingers, grabbed the eye, and pulled it out. It was so quick and seamless that it almost seemed natural…almost. As long as you ignored the fact he was ripping his eye out.

I expected blood to start cascading from the wound or something, but instead, there was …nothing.

Totoro held his eye in his hand.

“It’s a little messed up, but I should be able to fix it,” he calmly said.

“You can’t just do that in front of someone without explaining yourself.”

He smiled, “It’s fun to see people’s reactions though.”

“You like seeing people faint? Maybe die of a heart attack or something?”

“That’s why I only do it to people who I think could handle it.”

“What makes you think I can handle it?” I kept turning from his face to the eyeball on his hand. It was a surreal experience.

“Oh I’m sure you can handle a lot.”

And odd statement, but it was really being put to the test here. I mean, I guess meeting someone like Nor a few days ago was kind of unbelievable too and I’d been fine there. Maybe Totoro was on to something.

Either way, after saying all that, Totoro placed his eye on the nearby table, opened a drawer like it was his own, and began to ‘work’ on his eye.

The spherical object was a prosthetic. Concerningly realistic prosthetic, but still one nonetheless. It allowed him to see through cameras on the device that wirelessly connected to his brain through an implanted device.

He gently opened the back panel and fiddled with it.

“I lost my eye when I was little,” he spoke as he worked. “My…um…I was in an accident that basically left me unable to see. The doctors felt it was better to remove it altogether. That way, not only would it not get infected, but I would also have the chance to get a prosthetic,” he pointed at the eye, “Like this one. I got it when I was nine. It was my first prosthetic.”

“You’re telling me your eye has been the same size since you were nine?”

He laughed, “Of course not. I’ve been making it bigger myself.”

“That sounds like a whole lot more work than just getting a new one.”

“Yeah…that’d probably be nicer.”

Then why don’t you? I would’ve asked, but I felt I was prying at this point.

“On the bright side, I’m pretty good with machines now,” he raised his small tools with a smile, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this. My entire life now revolves around machines.”

So he’s an engineer or something? Along with teaching, computer science, and a few other computer-related subjects, the engineering program was one the school was known for.

I could only imagine that’s what he was aiming for.

“So you can make robots? That’s cool.” I joked.

“Yes, actually, I can,” he pointed a tiny screwdriver at me. “I mostly make them as toys for my brother though.”

Right, his brother. I think his name was Ein?

My moment of silence prompted Totoro to continue.

“Yeah, it’s usually out of spare parts and stuff, but he seems to like them. Better than nothing right?”

He continued working on the eye. Lifting it a few times, he watched the iris expand and contract repeatedly, going back to tinker with it right after.

This whole situation...it felt weird to me.

It didn’t necessarily feel fake, no. I guess I still wasn’t understanding—

“Why?” I asked. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

He had no reason to say anything. This was the first day we talked in class, second time we talked ever.

He smiled, “I was wondering when you’d ask that,” he put down his tools. His eye seemed to be working now. He put it up to the light a few times before he nodded. “Things can be really unfair, you know? That’s something I’ve always hated, but it’s not like I can do much about it.”

He stared longingly into the eye before turning it and holding his eyelids open with his free hand. And as surreal as it was him taking it out, putting back in was no different.

“I think you’ve been unfairly judged. Well, kind of, you are a bit of an asshole.”

“Thanks.”

“But…I think that version of you isn’t necessarily the real one, is it?” his eye readjusted, the iris and pupil growing and shrinking mechanically before resting in a normal way. “The one you show Kokoro, and probably Ze’Seki, that’s the real you. The one you showed my brother—that’s probably it.”

“…”

“If you really want to find an excuse for me talking to you, just take it as thanks for helping my brother,” he grabbed my shoulder. “Also, sorry for provoking you earlier. I just really wanted to see how good you were at sword-fighting.” Chuckling, he continued, “Guess I was taking a page out of your book. Glad to see it worked.”

Right, he was only talking to me because I helped him. At least he made that much clear.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re sorry at all.”

“I’m sorry—in a way.”

“If you say so.”

With Totoro’s eye fixed, we exited the infirmary and walked back to the dojo.