Shinkai - The Eyes That Shouldn't Exist

Kazuo had stopped counting how many tunnels he'd explored.

The fire jars no longer surprised him. The bartering system made a strange kind of sense now. Even the dog-headed children didn't phase him anymore.

He didn't belong here — but for the first time in years, he didn't feel like he was being hunted.

At least not yet.

He sat near a crooked fountain shaped like a broken jaw, chewing on a skewer of roasted roots, when he heard it.

Not a shout. Not a song.

Just a voice.

Speaking calmly. Slowly. To no one.

At first Kazuo thought the man was a preacher — just another mad prophet whispering madness to a city that had long stopped listening.

But something in the tone made him look up.

"What is a chain," the man said, standing atop an old bench, arms raised, "if not a story that others have agreed to believe for you?"

Most passersby ignored him.

Kazuo didn't.

"What is a name, if not a lock? What is a mark, if not a mirror turned upside-down?"

He spoke with a strange rhythm. Not poetry. Not madness. Something between.

And then — softly — he said the words:

"The Inverted Lotus."

Kazuo straightened.

"Eight petals. Not pointing to the sky, but to the dirt. Not worship, but awakening. Not rebellion, but… remembering."

A few people glanced up, shook their heads, walked on.

But Kazuo stepped forward.

"What is the Inverted Lotus?" he asked.

The man smiled without looking down.

"Ah. You ask what it is."

"That's the wrong question."

Kazuo frowned. "Then what's the right one?"

The man stepped down from the bench, face hidden by strands of white cloth wrapped like a shroud.

"The right question is: Why are you hearing it now?"

Kazuo moved forward — but a gust of ash-filled wind swept between them, and the man was already walking away, voice echoing behind him:

"You don't find the Lotus. You remember it."

"If you're ready."

Kazuo stood frozen for a moment. His hand drifted again toward the medallion beneath his shirt. Still cold. Still silent.

He whispered under his breath:

"The Inverted Lotus…? What does that even mean?"

He had seen strange things down here — spirits in jars, a woman who vanished like smoke, a man who walked through water and ice. But this?

This didn't let him go.

It clung to the edges of his thoughts like roots cracking stone.

Then the temperature dropped.Sudden.Wrong.

A sheet of frost crept over the stone behind him — quiet, thin, crystalline.

Kazuo spun, instincts flaring, and just barely dodged a spear of ice that exploded from the tunnel wall. It shattered like glass against stone, cold mist spiraling from the impact.

A shadow stepped forward.

Tall. Calm. Hooded. Sword drawn — its blade coated in flowing ice that didn't melt, even in the warm underground.

That's not a mercenary.That's something else.

Kazuo didn't wait.

His hand shot out: "Water Magic: Torrent!"

The wave surged from his palm, slamming into the figure's chest. It hit — but froze mid-crash, suspended in motion like caught breath.

The figure walked through it without flinching.

No way…

Kazuo kicked off a side pipe and launched a set of shimmering disks: "Water Magic: Water Shuriken!"

They sliced through the air — fast, sharp — but the man twirled his sword once, and the disks froze mid-air, shattering into snowflakes.

A calm voice emerged beneath the hood:

"Water magic, huh? That's a first. Graceful... but predictable."

Kazuo's eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you?!"

No answer.

The masked man darted in — fast. Too fast.

Their swords clashed. Metal screamed. Kazuo pivoted, blocked — sparks flew. A gust of freezing air blasted him back, biting through his coat.

He's faster than me. Stronger. No wasted motion. Whoever this is — he's trained.

Too trained.

"I don't suppose they sent you for tea?" Kazuo snapped, panting.

Still no reply.

The man raised his hand: "Ice Magic: Cold Fang."

The floor cracked. Frost spears erupted — zigzagging toward Kazuo like snapping jaws. He flipped backward, slicing two apart mid-air, then slammed both hands to the stone.

"Water Magic: Water Wall!"

A column of water burst up — but the frost caught it instantly, curling around the base like vines, twisting it into a jagged cage of ice.

Kazuo stumbled back, breath catching.

He froze it... instantly.

The cold snaked up his legs. The air had turned white — snow spun in every breath.Kazuo's sword arm trembled.

Then came the voice — smooth, amused, but sharp:

"Unfortunately for you…""Your magic is my natural prey."

The man stepped forward, not rushing — just confident.His blade dragged faint frost trails across the ground.

"Water flows. Ice stops."

Kazuo clenched his jaw and hurled his sword in a wild arc, following it up with a bare-handed strike — but the blade stopped mid-air, caught in a net of frost.

The man didn't even blink.

Damn it. Move. Think. Something.

"He's toying with me," Kazuo muttered, voice shaking.

Still nothing.

Then — a flicker.

Kazuo swung blind — missed.

And felt it — the cold of a blade at his neck. From behind.

He vanished?....No he was just too fast for me!

Theman's voice finally came — low and amused:

"You're not that bad."

He stepped into view, removing his hood.

A mess of white hair. Ice-blue eyes. A rogue's smirk, but too focused to be careless.

"But this is it."

Kazuo tried to move.

Didn't matter.

Two fingers lifted — and frost climbed his chest like chains.

Move. Move, damn it—!

Kazuo's body wouldn't move anymore.

His legs were locked in place. His arms, too. The frost had climbed higher, chaining his chest in a vice of cold.

Can't breathe... can't move...

The man tilted his head, staring.

"Now this part," he muttered, "this part is curious."

He stepped closer.

"I'm wondering why he wants you dead so badly... that I had to follow you all the way into the Hollow Veins."

Kazuo's eyes widened. "What…?"

The man ignored him. His gaze had dropped — narrowed. He leaned in slightly.

Then he saw it.

The grime shifted just enough to reveal the green eye.

He blinked.

A small, involuntary flinch.

"Well, well... interesting."

He didn't look scared.

Just... surprised.

Like something had finally clicked in a puzzle he'd been ignoring.

"So that's why."

He crouched, staring at Kazuo's face now as if studying a rare relic.

Kazuo strained, voice tight: "Who are you?! Did the King send you?!"

The man raised a single finger to his lips.

"Ssshhh."

A snap of his hand — and a thin sheet of ice sealed over Kazuo's mouth like glass.

Only Kazuo's muffled breath could be heard — panicked, fast, clouding the ice in front of him.

"Too many questions," the man said, voice casual. "No answers. Not for you. Not yet."

He stood again, flicked frost off his gloves, and sighed.

"Guess I'll ask Cedric myself."

Then, with calm precision, he tapped Kazuo's neck.

Blackness slammed down like a curtain.

As Kazuo slumped in place, frozen and unconscious, the man caught him before he could fall.

He slung the body over his shoulder effortlessly, as if it weighed nothing.

The Hollow Veins exhaled again — slow, heavy, ancient.

He stood there a moment longer.

Then, without ceremony, he threw Kazuo over his shoulder.

No chant. No portal. No trace.

Just one step — and he vanished.

Gone from the Hollow Veins.

On his way to the Royal Palace