Shinkai - The Eyes That Shouldn't Exist

A massive figure stood there — broad-shouldered, scarred, arms folded like a wall of muscle barely held together by a stained guard vest. One eye was bruised, the other sharp with the kind of look that didn't need a reason to start a fight.

His voice dripped with mockery.

"So, you're the one everyone's whispering about."

Kazuo didn't answer.

The man grinned, revealing a row of teeth far too white for someone so filthy. "Guess the rumors are true. A peasant will enter the tournament of nobles."

"That beautiful green eye of yours…" — he leaned in slightly, breath hot and awful — "I can't wait to gouge it out and wear it as a necklace."

Sora's tail lashed.

Her voice cut the air. "Say that again. I dare you."

But Kazuo remained calm, even as tension clawed its way up his spine. He tilted his head, eyes steady. "You done?"

The man chuckled. "Oh, not even close."

Tetsu raised a brow from behind his glass, muttering, "And I was enjoying the peace…"

The stranger finally stepped back, rolling his shoulders like he wanted someone to hit him. "They call me the Bell Butcher. Maybe you've heard of me. Maybe you haven't. Either way—" he looked Kazuo over like trash on the side of the road, "—you're uglier than I expected."

Sora stood. "Fighting outside the arena is forbidden. Or did they forget to teach you how to read signs along with basic hygiene?"

The man laughed, loud and rude. "Relax, kitten. I'm not gonna break the rules. Not yet."

He turned back to Kazuo, sneering.

"But the tournament doesn't officially start for a few more days. And until then? Talking isn't a crime."

He circled the table once, slowly, letting the weight of his presence drag behind each step.

"You know what doesn't make sense to me?" he mused. "I've gathered a lot of information. Read the line-ups. Watched the entries. But one thing I just can't figure out…"

He stopped again, facing Kazuo directly. The sneer deepened.

"How the hell did a peasant like you get a seat in a tournament meant for nobles? Someone with a face that screams worthless, and a voice that doesn't even know how to beg properly."

Kazuo didn't flinch. He took another slow breath and stood up.

Not aggressive.

Not fearful.

Just present.

The two locked eyes. The tavern, just moments ago filled with warmth and laughter, now watched in uneasy silence.

Kazuo's voice came low, steady.

"Guess you'll have to wait and see."

The man grinned wider. "Oh, someone who actually knows how to talk — neat. I thought you'd be the loud, screaming type. You know…" — his tone dropped to something darker, wetter — "the kind that pretends to be calm, until I rip off that fake calm and uncover the scared little face underneath."

The tavern air shifted.

Whispers began to float through the room like smoke.

"Wait… did he say peasant?"

"No way — I heard he trains under Setsuna directly."

"That guy? With the black and green eyes?"

"Water Magic, right? That's what they said."

"I thought the tournament wasn't 'til autumn…"

"It's earlier this year — King's orders."

The Bell Butcher soaked in the murmurs like applause, then slowly turned away from the table, making a show of his exit. His broad frame cast long shadows beneath the spirit lanterns.

No fight. No blow. Just tension.

And presence.

He stopped once more at the edge of the tavern and tilted his head.

"See you soon, green-eye."

Then he vanished out the door.

Kazuo didn't breathe until the heavy footsteps faded.

Only then did he exhale, sinking back into his seat like the chair had just become real again.

Tetsu took a calm sip from his drink and muttered, "His name's Rulthan. Officially. Nicknamed the Bell Butcher after what he did in that border skirmish last year."

Kazuo raised a brow. "Let me guess. It didn't involve actual bells."

"Not quite." Tetsu said.

Sora crossed her arms, tail flicking hard. "And he's part of Vaskel's squad. Figures."

Kazuo leaned back further, the warmth from earlier already buried under the chill of what just walked out.

So… he's someone I might face in the tournament.

The thought didn't scare him.

But it didn't settle easily either.

And somewhere in his gut, the food started feeling heavier.

Tetsu exhaled, adjusting his glasses. "Well. That escalated."

Sora rolled her shoulders, forcing her ears to relax. "Ignore him. Guys like that bark loudest when they're scared. And anyway… I still had fun tonight."

She nudged Kazuo lightly with her foot under the table.

"Don't let one bastard ruin it."

Tetsu nodded, sipping the last of his drink. "Agreed. Despite impending death and public spectacle, this was... surprisingly tolerable."

Kazuo managed a faint smile.

"…Yeah. Thanks. Both of you."

They didn't say anything more.

They didn't have to.

But for a moment, even with the tournament looming, even with enemies in the room — Kazuo felt like he had allies.

Real ones.

The kind that made the silence afterward feel calm instead of cold.

The morning sun hadn't yet cleared the castle spires when Kazuo followed Setsuna through a winding corridor of stone and frost.

Kazuo narrowed his eyes. "You 'forgot' to mention it?"

Setsuna raised a hand casually, as if brushing lint off his coat. "Oops."

Kazuo didn't buy it for a second. He could sense the lie — not in the tone, but in the way Setsuna avoided his glance for just a breath too long.

Still, Kazuo let it slide.

For now.

Setsuna pushed open a heavy iron gate, and the passage opened into a cavernous arena — an old underground training ground built of stone and steel. Water trickled faintly from distant pipes. Magic torches flickered with pale blue flames. This wasn't for beginners.

It was a battlefield.

"The Tournament was formally announced an hour ago," Setsuna said, stretching his arms overhead with a loud yawn. "Opening ceremony's tomorrow. Not the fights — just nobles showing off and eating fancy cake."

Kazuo raised an eyebrow. "And after what happened last night… I'm guessing you already know about Rulthan."

"Mmh." Setsuna's eyes gleamed. "Sora told me everything. Big, ugly, carries his ego like a weapon?"

"That's him."

Setsuna nodded. "Good. Then I don't have to waste time explaining why you're here."

Kazuo scanned the strange, wide chamber. "Then explain anyway."

Setsuna stepped into the center, drawing his sword in one fluid, casual motion. "Because if you want to beat someone like him… you'll need to fully master your Arcane-level magic."

Kazuo blinked. "So you're finally going to help me control my Arcane of Water: Vortex?"

Setsuna spun his blade once like it weighed nothing. "Help?" He smirked. "No. I'm going to beat it out of you."

Kazuo narrowed his eyes. "Of course you are."

Setsuna stepped forward, tone sharpening. "You already know the spell. What you don't know is how to use it without turning the arena into a graveyard."

He tapped the flat of his blade against Kazuo's shoulder — not gently.

Setsuna smiled. "You do realize, of course, that killing someone in the arena gives Cedric a perfect excuse to execute you, right?"

Kazuo's stomach twisted slightly.

He lowered the blade.

"That's why we're here. Not to make your magic stronger. To make sure it only hits who it's supposed to."

Setsuna's voice sharpened. "Ring-out. Knock-out. That's your win condition."

The air in the chamber grew colder.

A sudden pulse of Ice Magic surged outward, cracking the floor beneath Setsuna's feet.

"Are you ready Kazu?"

Kazuo exhaled "I told you not to call me that"

Kazuo barely had time to react before he was forced to leap back.

The training had begun.

Meanwhile, somewhere far from Yurelda…

In a windswept ruin where the sky hung low and silent, a figure knelt before a veiled presence.

Their eyes glowed with a color never seen before.