Eyes Above
The black Volkswagen cut through the midnight fog like a scalpel. Chizuru sat in the back seat, her optics flickering between high-speed data streams and the dark streets of the industrial district. She had spent the drive dissecting every byte of data from Marcus's phone, mapping the movements of the traffickers. Her research was clinical: she knew their rotations, their favorite hidden bars, and the exact frequency of their encrypted radios.
Approaching them wasn't a matter of luck; it was a matter of math. By the time they realized the girl in the shadows wasn't a victim, the zip-ties were already biting into their wrists.
The sabotage was silent and absolute.
The basement of the Katsura base was now divided into two hells. Marcus and his friends were wailing in one room, while the Chinese men were secured in the next. The walls were thick enough to swallow a grenade blast. They were neighbors in agony, yet neither knew the other existed.
Chizuru stepped into the second room. She looked down at the men, her expression as flat as a dead screen. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke, the language that came out was flawless Mandarin, spoken with the cold, rhythmic precision of a native.
"I have spent a great deal of time studying the intersection of human biology and mechanical endurance," she said, pacing before a massive, gleaming structure in the center of the room. "The body is a very loud instrument. I prefer to hear it play."
She pulled back a heavy tarp to reveal her masterpiece.
The machine was a grotesque hybrid of iron and nightmare. It was shaped like a hunched, humanoid pig, forged from rusted steel and polished chrome. Attached to its lower chassis were several one-centimeter-thick metallic rods. They hummed with a low, electrical heat, glowing a dull, angry orange.
"This is the first movement," Chizuru explained, her voice echoing in the soundproofed vault. Speaking with perfect pronunciation of their language as if she is a native "And these..." She pointed to a cluster of circular, steaming metal pads hanging from articulating arms. "These are the Hissing Hickeys. Once it came contact to the skin, it can imitate the image of hickeys, oh! and it comes with various shades and sizes" she explained enthusiastically
Then she leaned in close to the lead trafficker, the violet light in her eyes reflecting in his terrified pupils.
"You were so fond of taking what wasn't yours," she whispered. "You enjoyed the thrust. You enjoyed the power. So, I have built a machine that imitates your own nature. These rods will be inserted inside your male genitalia. They will thrust with the exact velocity and rhythm you used on those students. It even mimics the release of fluid at accuracy..."
She tapped a glass vial attached to the machine's pump. It was filled with a thick, milky white substance.
"But this is not what you think. I won't give you what you already have, instead, It is a concentrated neuro-toxin. Once it is injected internally, it will keep your nerves alive and firing at maximum capacity while your organs slowly liquefy. You will feel every second of your own dissolution."
The leader's eyes bulged so far out of their sockets that the surrounding capillaries snapped, flooding his vision with a terrifying, hazy red. He looked down at the orange-glowing rods of the Pig-Man machine, then back at Chizuru's beautiful, porcelain face. The contrast was the most horrific thing he had ever seen: a girl who looked like an angel explaining the systematic liquidation of his insides with the tone of a weather reporter.
Behind the thick, industrial-grade tape covering their mouths, the screams began. They weren't the sharp cries of a man in a fight; they were deep, wet, animalistic sounds that vibrated through their entire chests. Their bodies bucked against the steel restraints, the metal chair legs screeching against the concrete floor in a frantic, useless rhythm.
The man in the center tried to shake his head, his tears hot and blurring as they soaked into the tape. He was trying to say no, to beg, to offer money, but all that came out was a series of muffled, rhythmic thumps from the back of his throat. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the scent of the heated metal, his brain already anticipating the white-hot agony Chizuru had described.
He watched as her finger hovered over the Execute button on her tablet.
The other men in the room were no longer trying to escape; their spirits had completely collapsed. One of them had his eyes squeezed shut so tight his face was contorted into a mask of pure terror, his body trembling with a violent, uncontrollable rigor. They were men who had dealt in pain their entire lives, but they had never encountered a girl who had turned pain into a science.
Chizuru didn't move. She didn't blink. She watched the way the tape over their mouths expanded and contracted with their panicked breaths. To her, the muffled, suffocating screams weren't pleas for mercy they were the sound regrets and aftermath of sins
"The nervous system is such a loud, frantic thing," she murmured, her voice cutting through their muffled wailing like a blade. "Don't worry. You'll be hearing it for a long, long time."
Then, she tapped the screen.
The machine hissed. The smell of ozone and burning ozone filled the air as the rods reached peak temperature. The traffickers began to scream, but the sound didn't leave the room; it simply vibrated against the padded walls, feeding back into their own ears.
Chizuru stood perfectly still, her grey hair draped over her shoulders like a shroud. She didn't flinch at the wet, tearing sounds or the frantic, muffled pleas. She simply watched the data points on her screen.
"Pain is just an electrical signal," she murmured to herself, her eyes tracking the spike in their vitals. "And I am simply the one facilitating the switch."
In the red glow of the basement, the machine began its relentless, rhythmic work. Chizuru didn't see people on the table. She saw the debris of a humanity she had already decided to burn. She stayed there for hours, a silent goddess of vengeance, watching the simulation play out until the screams turned into a wet, rattling silence.
"Hmm...that concludes for today's session" she smiled
Epiones' POV
Tuesday Morning
The sun was shining brightly over the school courtyard, but I couldn't feel its warmth. I had been worried sick; Chizuru had been absent all day Monday, and she hadn't answered any of my texts. I kept imagining the worst that Marcus's family had done something to her because she protected me.
"Epione!"
I spun around so fast I nearly tripped. There she was, jogging toward me with a lunch bag in one hand, her hair bouncing and her eyes sparkling. She looked refreshed, radiant, and completely untouched by the world.
"Chizuru! Where were you? I was so worried!"
She giggled, looping her arm through mine just like she always did. "Oh, I am so sorry! My dad took me on a surprise weekend trip to the mountains. We went hiking and looked at the stars. It was so peaceful, I completely forgot to check my phone! We had the best time just bonding, you know?"
I smiled, feeling a massive weight lift off my chest. She deserved that kind of happiness. If my parents were still around, would we have had a bond like that? I felt her lean her head on my shoulder, the scent of expensive floral perfume clinging to her blazer.
"I am glad you're back," I said softly.
"Me too," she chirped, her smile widening. "I think I missed a lot for a day. Ready for class?"
As we walked toward the building, I noticed how perfect her gait was. She didn't trip or stumble. She was the picture of a happy girl, with not a single drop of blood on her white sleeves. Walking into school had always been a descent into a nightmare for me, but with her, it felt like a veil had been drawn between me and the cruelty of the halls.
Thank you, Chizuru.
The classroom was eerily quiet. Usually, the air was thick with the scent of cheap cologne and the loud, obnoxious laughter of Marcus and his crew. Today, their seats were empty. Most of the students in Section Dream-5 looked pale, huddled in small groups and whispering with wide, terrified eyes.
"Have you heard?" I heard one girl whisper as we walked to our desks. "They say the Hallowhand mansion was swarmed by police at 4:00 AM. But it wasn't for an arrest. It was for... a delivery."
I felt a slight shiver run down my spine, but Chizuru's hand remained warm and steady on my arm. She didn't seem to hear the gossip at all, humming a light tune as she opened her bag.
"I brought extra today!" Chizuru announced, pulling out a beautiful bento box. "My dad went a little overboard. You have to help me eat it, Epione, or it will go to waste."
"It looks like art," I said, genuinely impressed. I reached for a piece of the egg, my stomach growling. As I ate, I noticed Chizuru just... watching. She held a strawberry in her fingers, bringing it to her lips, but then she would set it back down, distracted by a story I was telling.
"Aren't you eating?" I asked, my mouth half-full.
"Oh, I had a huge breakfast at the hotel," she said smoothly. "Just enjoy your food. Don't mind me . You are so thin, Epi-chan. You need the energy more than I do."
I laughed, but as the lunch period wore on, I realized she hadn't taken a single bite. Not one grain of rice. Even her breathing seemed different. When I sat close to her, I couldn't hear the rhythmic huff of lungs. There was only a very faint, almost imperceptible hum, like a high-end laptop running in a quiet room.
Later that afternoon, during a particularly boring lecture, Chizuru dropped her pen. We both reached for it at the same time. My hand brushed against hers. I flinched. Not because she was aggressive, but because she was ice. It wasn't just "cold." It was the cold of a stone in winter.
"Chizuru, your hands are freezing," I whispered, taking her hand in both of mine to warm it. "Are you sick? You are pale, too."
She didn't pull away. Instead, she let me hold her hand, looking down at our joined fingers with a curious, distant expression. For a moment, the bubbly mask slipped, and she looked... ancient. No seriously, she looked almost like a Greek statue
"I have always been a bit cold," she said softly. "My uncle says it is a circulation thing. Don't worry about it."
She squeezed my hand. Her grip was terrifyingly strong, like steel bands wrapped in silk. I looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, I saw the faint, silver seam hidden right at the edge of her hairline, nearly invisible under her dark bangs. Before I could ask about it, the door opened. Ms. Pillarion walked in, her face like granite.
"Epione Paramnesia. Chizuru Katsura. My office. Now."
The whispers in the room reached a fever pitch. As we stood up, Chizuru leaned in and whispered in my ear. Her breath smelled of nothing. Just sterile, recycled air.
"Stay behind me, Epione. No matter what they say."
I reached for her forehead, my own hand shaking. "Chizuru, you are freezing. I think you have a really bad fever. We should go back to the clinic."
Chizuru didn't move. She didn't blink. She just kept her eyes on Ms. Pillarion. "I am fine, Epi-chan," she whispered. "It is just the mountain air still clinging to me."
Inside the office, the air was thick. Ms. Pillarion stood by the window, looking out at the courtyard.
"The Hallowhand family has withdrawn Marcus from this school," she said, her voice trembling. "Along with his two friends. Their parents cited... security concerns. They claimed their sons received a delivery they couldn't recover from."
She turned to look at us, her eyes landing on the silver case in Chizuru's hand. "A lot of strange things are happening since you arrived, Miss Katsura. And you, Epione... you have changed. You are not the quiet, bruised girl I used to see."
"Is that a crime, Ma'am?" Chizuru asked. She stepped forward, and I noticed the floorboards didn't even creak under her feet. "To be a shield for someone who has none?"
"It is a crime to dismantle the hierarchy of this school using fear," Pillarion snapped.
Suddenly, Chizuru's hand jerked. A soft, metallic click echoed from inside her briefcase. A thin wisp of white vapor escaped the seal, smelling of ozone. Chizuru's face went momentarily blank, her pupils dilating until her eyes were almost entirely black.
"Chizuru?" I whispered. "You are shaking."
She wasn't just shaking; she was vibrating. A low hum emanated from her chest. "I need... to take my medicine," Chizuru said, her voice flickering like a radio losing signal. "If you will excuse us, Epione needs to help me with my... documents."
Before the Counselor could protest, Chizuru grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the room. Her grip was like a vice. We sprinted toward the old, abandoned music room at the end of the hall. Once inside, she slammed the door and locked it. She slumped against the wall, the silver case falling open. She didn't pull out papers. She pulled out a sleek, high-tech injector filled with glowing blue fluid.
"Epione," she gasped, her skin turning a sickly, translucent grey. "Don't look at me. Please. Just... look at the door. Make sure no one comes in."
I stood by the door, my heart hammering. I wanted to believe she was just a girl with a medical condition. But as I looked back, I saw her sleeve slip up. Beneath the pale skin of her forearm, I saw a faint, rhythmic pulsing of blue light, following the line of what should have been a vein.
It wasn't blood. It was light.