Shinkai - The Eyes That Shouldn't Exist

"And should my people fall… surely I will do the same."

— A vow spoken before the skies lost their color

The sky wept ash.

Not rain. Not thunder.

Something heavier — like the world itself was mourning, long before it understood what had been lost.

Above, clouds churned in the shape of a wound. Lightning cracked without sound — the silence that comes before history breaks.

The earth burned.

The ground itself seemed to grieve — as if something sacred had been betrayed.

No names were spoken. No cries reached the wind.

Only ash and the smell of blood.

And beneath that fractured sky, someone stood.

Just… waiting.

Still.

Then the storm came — and the sky forgot it had ever been blue.

—

But that was not today.

The sky over the Lower Crescent was bruised violet — too early for lanterns, too late for comfort. Shadows clung to alley walls, and every step Kazuo took felt like it echoed louder than it should.

He adjusted his hood.

Not because it was cold. It was never cold in this part of Yurelda — not with the rising heat of too many bodies and not enough space. He did it because he knew what happened when the wrong people saw the wrong things.

Especially his eyes.

Someone passed with a sack of rice over one shoulder. Another pushed a cart of cheap wine bottles. No one made eye contact. That was a rule down here.

Kazuo didn't need to be reminded.

He'd heard the saying before — whispered, half-forgotten:

They say the color of your eyes is your truth.But Kazuo had met too many liars in blue, and too many saints in black.

But people still believed it — because it was easier than thinking.

A pair of guards passed at the next corner. Their armor gleamed faintly in the low light — silver-blue with the spiral crest of the kingdom etched into their chestplates. Both had bright green eyes. Nobles. The kind that could walk down here and leave with clean boots.

Kazuo lowered his gaze.

He walked with a purpose, but not too quickly. Not enough to be remembered. He passed a woman selling painted clay charms — her eyes were brown. Tired. She didn't look up.

Good.

Among the lower class, brown and grey eyes were passable. Mild. Eyes that obeyed the system without question.

But even among them, Kazuo had to be careful.

He had lived here for years.

And still felt like prey.

Someone was watching.

He paused beneath a broken lantern, pretending to check a pouch.

To the left — a child with soot-streaked cheeks stared up at him. Eyes wide. Then the kid looked away quickly. Not fear. Recognition.

Kazuo swallowed and kept moving.

Something was wrong today. He could feel it in the air — in the way people didn't linger, in the absence of music from the balconies, in the quiet between the guard patrols.

Kazuo turned the corner into the vendor street.

Normalcy snapped back like a mask. Voices. Spice smoke. Shouting. The weight of paranoia thinned — but never lifted.

He took a breath.

One more day.

Just act normal.

They say the color of your eyes is your truth. But I've met too many liars in blue and too many saints in black.

Kazuo didn't believe in fate.But if it did exist, it had a cruel sense of humor — the kind that kicked you in the ribs after tripping you face-first into a fruit stall.

"Good morning," he said to the vendor girl — a little too loud, a little too hopeful. "You look radiant today. Like a peach in bloom. Or, uh… a pear. A really nice pear."

She raised an eyebrow. Her brown eyes studied him as one might inspect a bruised vegetable.

Kazuo cleared his throat. "I mean that in a respectful way. Very pear-worthy. Sorry. I'm terrible at compliments."

She didn't answer. Just turned back to reorganizing her crates, pointedly ignoring him.

He stood there awkwardly until a small cloth pouch slipped from his belt and hit the dusty ground with a puff. Cat treats spilled everywhere.

Behind a barrel, someone snorted — very loudly and very intentionally.

Kazuo didn't have to look.

Rei.

"Three pears, please," Kazuo said stiffly, placing two cogs — silver trade coins — onto the crate. The vendor accepted them with a nod, handed over the fruit, and turned away without a word.

Kazuo lingered a moment, chewing on shame.

Then a voice rang out beside him like a trumpet of sarcasm.

"Smooth as ever, Casanova."

Rei leaned against the stall, biting into an apple he hadn't paid for. His spiky red hair caught the morning light like fire, and his twin daggers glinted at his waist. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

"Don't," Kazuo said.

"I mean, I knew it would crash and burn, but that was poetic. 'Pear-worthy'? What even is that?"

"She was cute."

"She was untouchable. Brown eyes, Kazuo. That's still a tier above us. You're barely even on the ladder."

Kazuo took a defiant bite of pear. "Doesn't mean I can't try."

"And that," Rei said, throwing an arm over his shoulder dramatically, "is why I admire you. You're a reckless romantic with no sense of consequence and even less success."

Kazuo rolled his eyes and swatted the arm away.

The Lower Crescent of Yurelda bustled around them — a patchwork of stone, spice smoke, shouting vendors, and weary-eyed slaves. Here, those with black, hazel, or gray eyes moved carefully. Kept their heads down. No one made eye contact unless they had the luxury to do so.

Guards, in their silver-blue armor, stood at corners like wolves wearing medals.None of them had black eyes.Black eyes weren't allowed to exist.

Kazuo kept his hood low. His mismatched gaze — one black, the other a glinting green — drew attention. And attention here meant danger.

As they walked, he felt the stares. Subtle. Quick. Always judgmental.The green eye unsettled people. It didn't belong. Not down here.

"You ever get tired of hiding?" Rei asked as they turned down a side alley, the sound of haggling fading behind them.

"I'm not hiding."

"You wear a hood in summer."

Kazuo shrugged. "Just avoiding trouble."

"You've been avoiding it since Gramps took you in."

Kazuo's eyes narrowed. "That's low."

Rei smirked. "You're right. Gramps raised you better than this."

Kazuo smiled despite himself.

They stopped at a shaded corner where a narrow canal whispered past, lined with moss and broken lanterns. Kazuo sat on a low step and tossed a bit of pear into the water.

A familiar blur of fur and claws leapt into his lap — a one-eyed tabby, scarred and mean-looking but loyal as any dog.

Kazuo fished a treat from his pouch and offered it up.

"You spoil that thing," Rei said.

"She's got taste."

"She bit me last week."

"She has excellent taste."

The cat purred like a tiny thundercloud. Rei leaned back against the wall.

"So. What's the plan today?" Rei asked. "Another awkward flirt? Saving lost children? Or will you finally tell Gramps you're using your magic too openly?"

Kazuo didn't answer.

A boy had slipped into the canal last week. Kazuo hadn't moved — but the water had.It rose. Caught the child mid-fall. Slowed him like silk.

Only Rei had seen.

"I didn't do it," Kazuo had said.

"You did," Rei replied. "And you know how dangerous this is."

Kazuo had trained. Gramps made sure of that. Quiet spells, basic wards — things to protect, not provoke.But this… this was different.This was instinct.

Then a scream tore through the Crescent.

Kazuo was on his feet instantly, hand brushing his sword hilt. Rei cursed and followed.

They rounded the corner just as a crowd swelled around a red-faced merchant. A boy — maybe ten — was pinned under a guard's boot, bleeding from the cheek, clothes torn.

"Caught him stealing!" the merchant shouted. "Little rat tried to pocket a ring."

The guard didn't even look down.

"What color?"

"Hazel."

The guard grunted. "Mild blood, then. Strip a finger. Make it public."

The boy screamed, "I didn't steal it! I swear!"

Kazuo stepped forward.

Rei blocked him. "Don't. Not here."

"They're going to mutilate a kid."

"And they'll do worse to you. Then to me. You think they care what kind of magic you use if they drag you in for treason?"

Kazuo's fists clenched.

The guard raised his blade.

The air thickened — like a storm holding its breath.The canal behind them rippled.Not from wind. From will.

The pressure behind Kazuo's eyes pulsed. Hot. Sharp.

The guard's hand twitched — then slipped.The blade clattered to the stones.

Gasps spread. The crowd recoiled.

"Kazuo," Rei growled, gripping his sleeve. "We're leaving. Now."

They didn't stop until they reached the edge of the Old Observatory, high above the Crescent. Smoke and fish market stench faded into the wind.

Kazuo dropped onto a worn bench. Rei paced beside him like a panther in a cage.

"You don't even know what you did."

"I do," Kazuo said quietly.

"Then why didn't you stop it?"

"Because I couldn't just watch."

"You trained to stay hidden. Gramps taught you that."

"He taught me to protect. And that kid..."

Rei sighed. "You're not normal, Kazuo."

Kazuo's gaze drifted upward. "I know."

He looked down at his palm. Dry now — but in memory, still slick with magic.

The wind picked up.

Kazuo let his hood fall back.One black eye. One green. One truth the world refused to look at.

"Gramps said it was beautiful," Kazuo murmured.

"Gramps says a lot of things."

They chuckled.

Then Kazuo's smile faded.

"He also said the world wasn't built for people like me."

"You think he was right?"

Kazuo exhaled slowly.

"Yeah. Because I don't want power. Or status. I just want to be left alone."

He looked down at his hand — dry now, but memory-slick with magic.

He paused.

"I don't want to fight it. I just want to survive it."

They sat quietly.

"He'd lecture me if he saw me today," Kazuo muttered.

"He lectures you if your boots squeak."

"But yeah," Rei added, "he'd say something like: 'Power without principle is a sword with no handle. Dangerous to everyone, especially the one who holds it.'"

Kazuo chuckled. "You sound just like him."

"I've been practicing."

They let the silence return — calm but heavy.

Then Kazuo saw her.

Across the rooftops, beyond the haze of smoke and laundry lines, a royal carriage rolled into view — black with gold trim, drawn by white stagbeasts too clean for this part of the city.

In the Lower Crescent.

That didn't happen.Not here.

Guards flanked the sides. Banners fluttered behind.And inside, framed by silk curtains, sat a girl with silver hair tied in braids too intricate for a common morning.

Her gown was pale blue, embroidered with unknown symbols. Her posture: flawless.Her gaze —

— was fixed directly on him.

She didn't look surprised.

She looked like she had been looking for him.

Kazuo's body went still. Not from awe.From instinct.

For one breath, they held eye contact.

Then the curtain fell.

Rei frowned. "What the hell is a royal carriage doing here?"

Kazuo didn't answer.He couldn't.

He didn't know who she was. Or what she saw in him.

But as the rooftops emptied and the wind stirred, he realized something unsettling:

He was trembling.

And for the first time in a long while…

He didn't know what would happen next.