"Corneal blindness."
A black-haired youth stood in the dim hallway, his left eye covered by a white medical eye patch. His face seemed permanently stuck in a constant frown, as if irritation had carved itself into his features.
"Torahiko, you going out? Get me some snacks, would you?"
The voice came lazily from the living room.
Torahiko Jin turned his head slightly, his dark brown eye cold and distant. He let out a quiet snort.
Opening the door, he stepped outside. It was late—around nine at night. The air carried that still, quiet feeling only nighttime streets had. Torahiko couldn't help but feel frustrated. When his thoughts became too loud, he tended to leave the house to catch some fresh air, to calm his anxious heart.
Well… that's what it looked like from the outside.
In truth, he simply needed an opportunity to test the inventory function of his mental realm.
Damned god…
My left eye is basically a lost cause at this point. What benefit could it even have? Damn it all to hell…
I need to make sure I have some kind of payment ready for any future questions. But what even counts as payment? The payment should meet certain criteria, no? Well… what could those criteria be? It obviously has to belong to me… but beyond that? Does it have to be part of my body? Or something I own? Hmm…
Torahiko walked down the dimly lit street, lost in his own thoughts. Street lamps cast long shadows over the pavement. He barely paid attention to the scattered pedestrians passing by.
Then his bored eye drifted toward a girl walking a few steps ahead of him.
She moved at a leisurely pace.
Looking down, he noticed it—her right knee was stained with blood.
He picked up his pace slightly, then deliberately averted his gaze. Not his problem. If she didn't care, why should some random stranger like him?
He walked past her.
Yet his steps slowed.
After overtaking her, he turned his head.
"Hey. You. If you don't tend to that, it'll leave a scar. Could get infected."
His tone was flat as ever.
Startled by being addressed so abruptly, the girl paused. Though taken aback, her expression barely changed.
She wasn't much older than him. Dark purple hair fell past her shoulders. Her eyes were a deep crimson—almost blood-colored. Her pale face carried a faint melancholic stillness.
She glanced down at her leg. Her school uniform skirt concealed most of the wound.
"Stay here for a moment."
Without waiting for a response, Torahiko turned and jogged around the corner toward the main road where shops lined the street. He entered the nearest convenience store and headed straight for the aisle with medication and first aid supplies.
He picked up a bottle of rubbing alcohol.
Focusing his mind, he activated his mental realm.
He had already tested the rudimentary functions—how to store items, how to enter and exit the space. Currently, his mental realm held a small first aid kit from home and a kitchen knife for self-defense.
Imagining the trigger—a mental image of unlocking an old rusted lock—the bottle in his hand disappeared without flair or spectacle.
He picked up another bottle.
He still needed to buy one. It would look suspicious if he simply inspected the alcohol and didn't purchase it—especially if he bought related items like cotton and bandages.
Grabbing cotton pads, bandages, and a few adhesive strips, he also picked up a bag of chips and two cold drinks—one for himself, one for his brother.
At the counter—
"Ah, that will be—"
Before the clerk could finish stating the total, Torahiko placed the exact amount of money down. He had grabbed the items himself; he knew the price.
He walked out.
On his way back, he half-expected the girl to be gone.
But she was still there.
Standing exactly where he had left her.
Like a statue.
"Hey."
She turned slightly as he approached.
"Doesn't that hurt? Why didn't you treat it earlier? You can walk, right? Let's go to the park—it's just around the corner."
She nodded.
Despite her calm expression, blood continued to trickle down her leg.
"Sorry about this," he muttered. "Walking might make it worse."
He stepped in front of her, turning his back slightly in silent suggestion.
She hesitated only briefly before placing her arms around his shoulders.
He lifted her onto his back.
A piggyback ride.
Normally, he would've been embarrassed. Maybe even a little pleased. After all, who wouldn't be happy for an excuse to talk to a cute girl their age?
But tonight, none of that surfaced.
His frustration drowned it out.
And there was something else.
When he had looked into her eyes earlier, something inside him twisted. A sickening feeling bubbled up. She seemed so different from him—and yet, unbearably pitiful.
Her eyes felt hollow.
Like those of an empty doll.
Somewhere along the line, he had developed an odd sense of inferiority toward others—maybe because of his older brother, maybe just insecurity.
But looking at her…
He felt superior.
And that feeling disgusted him.
It wasn't joy.
It was nausea.
As if he were staring at something broken.
They reached the park. He carefully lowered her onto a bench and unpacked the supplies.
First, he wiped away the blood.
Then he soaked cotton in alcohol.
"Ah—could you lift your skirt slightly? It's blocking the injury."
She complied without protest.
"Ssheesh… that must've hurt. How'd you get injured like this anyway?"
He began disinfecting the wound.
"I am… not sure."
He paused and looked up.
"How can you not know? What—can't you feel pain? …Oh. Wait. There's a condition like that, isn't there? Maybe you have that. But even if you do, you should be more observant of your own body. Just because you can't feel an injury doesn't mean it's not there. What if it was something worse?"
She lowered her gaze.
"Ah… sorry. I'll pay more attention next time."
"Hey, don't get all wimpy on me. I'm not your mom or your big brother, so I've got no right to nag. But you should take better care of yourself, yeah?"
He continued working as he spoke.
"When I was little, I used to get hurt all the time. I wasn't exactly friendly… got into fights a lot. Whenever I came home injured, my brother treated my wounds."
His expression softened.
"He usually looks annoyed when I cause trouble. But when I was hurt… he didn't look annoyed. He looked worried."
He smiled faintly.
"And that feeling I got when I saw that look on his face… it hit like a cannonball."
He paused.
"…What was the moral I was trying to say? Damn, I forgot."
He looked into her crimson eyes, smiling warmly.
"My parents died when I was young. So my nii-san's all I've got. He's a jerk, sure—but he's my brother. And he stresses way too easily. So I stopped getting into fights. Didn't want to see that look again."
He secured the bandage neatly around her knee.
"So yeah. Be careful. Not just for yourself—but for someone else's sake too."
He chuckled lightly.
"Man… I guess worrying about random strangers runs in the family. You had me worried for a complete stranger."
He stood up.
"Well, it was nice monologuing to you, miss…?"
"Asagami," she replied quietly. "My name is Fujino Asagami."
Torahiko blinked.
"Bit late for introductions, huh? I should've asked before spilling my guts."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Name's Torahiko Jin. See you around, Asagami."