Tokyo: Magical Girl Shatters My Dream of Going Public

Ten days.

For most people, it might just be a few pages quickly turned on a calendar.

For Jin Kanzaki, however, it carried a heavy weight.

The injury to the left eye.

Permanent vision impairment.

The doctor said surgery might improve the situation somewhat, but would it be a "complete recovery"?

That's absolutely impossible.

His peak sharpness, along with the badge of a special forces elite, seemed to have been ripped away by that fleshy tentacle.

In the afternoon, in the living room of my own house.

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft dappled patterns on the floor.

Kanzaki, with a medical eye patch over his left eye, was sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the sofa.

In front of him, his three-year-old daughter wobbled around, clutching a soft ball, giggling as she tried to shove it into his arms.

"For...Dad!"

Kanzaki took the ball and awkwardly pushed it back.

The daughter laughed even harder.

Such moments have been so long ago.

He even missed the birth of his child because of an emergency mission.

Guilt is like fine sand, settling deep in my heart.

Now, this misfortune has turned into a blessing in disguise, as I can finally spend some quality time playing with my child.

His wife brought him a cup of coffee and gently placed it on the low table beside him.

"Thank you," Kanzaki said softly.

The wife did not leave immediately.

She sat down on the single sofa next to her, clasped her hands together, and rubbed her fingertips together.

She looked at her husband's profile as he played with their daughter, hesitant to speak.

A moment of silence.

"Over there..." his wife finally spoke, her voice very soft, "she contacted me again."

Kanzaki continued pushing the ball.

"They hope... you can consider staying and becoming an instructor," his wife continued, speaking quickly as if afraid she might change her mind. "They said you're very experienced, and even if... your eyesight isn't good, you can still train the best team members. Your salary and rank won't be lowered."

Kanzaki remained silent and rolled the ball toward his daughter.

The daughter chased after the ball, clumsily crawling away.

He knew where his wife meant by "over there".

Special operations group command post.

For someone like him, who is unable to return to the front lines due to injury, staying on as an instructor is undoubtedly the safest, most dignified, and most responsible choice for his family.

The experience gained won't be wasted, the income is stable, and I can continue wearing that uniform.

but……

That night kept flashing back into my mind.

Crimson flesh walls, futile bullets, the brief flash of incendiary bombs, and that… yourself, a joke in the face of absolute power.

A deep weariness suddenly seeped from the very marrow of my bones.

If the world is sliding into some incomprehensible abyss, if "elite" individuals like myself are already becoming obsolete...

Before that, he probably wanted to make up for something else.

For example, not missing my daughter's next birthday.

Seeing that he remained silent for a long time, his wife's eyes dimmed, but she did not try to persuade him further.

She changed the subject, trying to sound more cheerful: "I've already made an appointment with the best ophthalmologist. We'll go see him next week, maybe..."

Just then, the sound of a key turning came from the entryway.

"I'm back--"

The sixteen-year-old eldest daughter walked in carrying her schoolbag, her voice pausing when she saw the living room. "Dad, Mom."

The couple tacitly stopped their previous conversation.

Kanzaki gave an awkward smile: "You're back."

"Hmm." The eldest daughter changed her shoes and was about to go upstairs when she suddenly remembered something and took out a flat, hard envelope about the size of a videotape from her small bag.

"Oh, right, old man, there's this in the mailbox. It has your name on it."

letter?

Kanzaki frowned slightly.

In this day and age, who would send a physical letter?

It's still this specification.

My professional instincts kicked in instantly.

He took the envelope; it didn't feel heavy in his hand.

There is no sender information, only a printed recipient's name and address.

He carefully examined the seal, edges, and thickness, and then looked at it against the light; there were no suspicious shadows or powder.

"You two go to the kitchen first," he said to his wife and eldest daughter, his tone calm yet authoritative.

The wife immediately got up, picked up her younger daughter, and pulled her still somewhat bewildered older daughter into the kitchen, hiding behind the counter to look into the living room.

Kanzaki took out rubber gloves from the coffee table drawer and put them on, then took a paper cutter.

He walked to a corner of the living room away from his family and laid the envelope flat on the floor.

Carefully cut open the seal edge with the tip of a knife.

There was no unusual smell, and no mechanism popped open.

He gently poured out the contents.

A brand new, black phone with no brand logo.

There was also a letter. The envelope was sealed with dark red sealing wax.

He had never seen the pattern on the sealing wax before.

It was a simple yet unique emblem.

Below is a nearly straight arc with slightly upturned ends, like a gazing eyelid.

Above the eyelids, instead of pupils, are three tiny stars arranged in an inverted triangle.

The overall lines are cold and hard, conveying a silent, watchful image.

Kanzaki stared at the emblem for a few seconds before carefully peeling off the sealing wax.

Click.

A soft sound.

In an instant, an invisible energy fluctuation suddenly spread out from inside the envelope!

The living room lights dimmed for a moment without warning, as if some of the light had been absorbed by something invisible.

Kanzaki's pupils contracted, and almost instinctively he was about to drop what he was holding—

But the anticipated attack or danger did not occur.

Instead, a breathtakingly beautiful scene unfolded before us.

Suddenly, large, flowing, translucent bands of light appeared in the air above the entire living room.

The colors are mesmerizing, like the aurora dancing in the polar night sky, or as if the starry sky and the Milky Way have been pulled into this small space.

Like a dream.

At the center of these light bands, the emblem of "Eyelids Supporting Three Stars" is floating in mid-air in the living room, slowly rotating.

It does not emit light itself, yet it seems to be the source and core of all light flow, exuding a serene sense of majesty.

There was no sound, no heat, only a breathtaking beauty that was almost divine.

The living room was deathly silent.

Even her two-year-old daughter stopped playing, opened her eyes wide, and stared blankly at the sky.

A few seconds later, the illusion began to fade, the band of light dissipated like the receding tide, and the light dust disappeared into the void.

Finally, even the emblem turned into specks of light and disappeared completely.

The living room regained its original brightness, as if everything that had just happened was merely a collective illusion.

"Slap, slap, slap..."

The youngest daughter was the first to react, clapping her little hands happily.

The eldest daughter took a deep breath, clearly still not recovered from the scene.

"Oh my god! What was that just now?! Was it... was it magic?! It was so beautiful!"

Kanzaki's throat felt a little dry.

He knew it wasn't magic; it was real magic.

But he couldn't tell his daughter.

"...Um, it's magic." He managed to brush it off, "A very... impressive magic trick."

He bent down and quickly picked up the letter and the black cell phone from the ground.

"I'm going upstairs for a bit."

He left those words behind and practically fled upstairs to the second floor, rushed into his study, and immediately locked the door behind him.

As dusk fell outside the window, he quickly unfolded the letter.

The letter paper has a special texture and feels slightly cool to the touch.

The text above is printed, and the wording is concise, direct, and gets straight to the point.

His gaze swept quickly across the contents, finally settling on the signature—

【Night Watchman - President】

Kanzaki's right eye snapped open, and he gasped for breath.

Sure enough it was him!

All doubts were instantly resolved.

Only that organization, that "president," could pull off such a "magic trick" that defies common sense.

Knock knock.

A soft knock on the door.

His wife's worried voice came from outside the door: "Zhen? Are you alright?"

Kanzaki composed himself, carefully folded the letter, and stuffed it back into the empty envelope.

He got up and opened the door.

The wife stood outside the door, her face filled with unease: "What was that just now...?"

"It's nothing," Kanzaki interrupted her, his voice low. "Someone... has given me an opportunity."

He looked into his wife's questioning eyes and said, word by word:

"Some people say they can completely cure my eyes."

The wife gasped, covered her mouth, and her eyes instantly lit up with a mixture of hope and disbelief.

"Completely? You mean...like before?"

"That's what the letter said." Kanzaki didn't rule out the possibility, but the way he gripped the envelope betrayed his inner turmoil.

He returned to his desk, picked up the black phone, and pressed and held the power button.

The screen lights up, revealing a clean interface with no pre-installed unnecessary applications.

In my contacts, there's only one lonely number, with the nickname—

[President]

His wife walked to his side, her voice soft: "So... what do you plan to do?"

Kanzaki remained silent for a few seconds.

He recalled the helplessness he felt that night, the doctor's regretful sigh, and the loss and blurring of vision in his left eye when he played with his daughter.

I also recalled the image of that man tearing everything apart like a god or demon in a sea of ​​crimson flesh.

It was a completely different world, dangerous yet full of power.

And now, a door seems to have opened a crack for him.

As dusk settled outside the window, the outline of his profile became somewhat blurred.

In his perfectly intact right eye, a light shone that his wife could not understand.

He spoke slowly:

"I want to... give it a try."