Being blind does not mean "not seeing".
It means "not seeing anything".
Light enters through the cornea and is then refracted, bent and sharpened by the lens. It hits the retina, stimulating the photoreceptors, cones and rods, transforming photons into electrical signals, and then it ceases to be light and becomes a suggestion to the brain. The signal travels along the optic nerve. It passes through ganglia, cortical junctions and memory folds. And somewhere along the biological path, the brain decides that what it received must be what really happened.
A child may look at the sun and see only great brightness. A fanatic may look into the abyss and see a base prophecy. A blind man may feel the tremor of fire before anyone perceives the smoke.
There is a theory that claims that blind people have their other senses more acute, and little scientific basis would not exclude its credibility.
Aomine Luppo no longer has the innate ability to observe what's around him. The ability to discern the real from the unreal... Or...?
There is no word for the color that does not exist, no sound for what can only be heard from within, but there is form. After all, he did not stop seeing "everything", he simply began to see "nothing". It is truly impossible to describe, it is the kind of thing that you only know if you feel it, and you only feel it if you know what it is like.
Something that comes when you stop trying to understand the world through someone else's borrowed eyes.
• • •
It was a recent cold night, in a warehouse near one of the temples.
Aomine Luppo, at that moment, was a frail figure, but he still carried traces of his former dignity.
He was 17 years old, however his position in the Clergy at such a young age made him seem older.
His hair was black, straight, and had medium length, falling in messy strands over his forehead and ears. His skin, once fair and well-groomed, was now pale and marred with scratches and bruises. His beautiful eyes were mint green, with long lashes that gave the impression that he was always analyzing everything around him. His face was angular, with high cheekbones and a narrow chin.
His body was slender but not weak due to years of ritual training in the Pentaculum. They had given him a firm stance, though now he was hunched over, exhausted and defeated.
The robes of the Bishops of the Pentaculum were dark blue, with gold trim at the collar and at the ends of the sleeves, and the symbol of the Pentaculum, a pentagon with interlocking corners, faded across the chest. A light-blue silk scarf hung loosely around his neck, now stained crimson with blood.
The first few minutes were completely silent, but then there were sounds of cracking, the noise of metal tools and heavy footsteps.
As if someone was heading towards Luppo, ready to split his head in two.
Luppo, at the moment of the "thing", could only hear his own screams and a metallic crash. And soon after he felt an intense burning, he could not bear the extreme pain.
"Euuuuuuughh! AAAAAAAAAAAaaaahhhhhh!"
The smell of fire and blood was the most innovative. It is important to note that it hurt quite a bit.
He was ripping his eyes out! And it was all so fast! He pinned him down with something definitely unholy.
His appearance would not be approved by the Church of Quintanilha.
It was impossible and illogical.
His head was "shaped like a head", but the similarities to "a head" ended there!
She was engulfed in a great living flame, which surrounded her without revealing any outline. Her eyes, or what should have been her eyes, seemed to be two yellow specters hidden in the flames. She wore coarse, ill-made leather clothes and gloves of oxidized copper.
Frankly, there wasn't much Luppo could do. He stuck several blades and needles into both of his eyes. He started with the eyelids, where he made small cuts. Then he inserted a metal appendage and "unstitched" the flesh. Luppo's eyes quickly became covered in blood and his entire face was covered in blood.
The blood ran down to her collarbone and stopped on her scarf, which was already colored crimson.
Luppo tried to writhe, but each limb was tied to the altar by gray iron straps, which made it ineffective.
"Don't scream, the process will look sick if you do."
As if I hadn't already been sick from the start!
The pain was deep.
A shiver that spread down his spine, like cracked glass inside the skin, sewed itself throughout his body.
The light that blinded Luppo was not the same as that of his childhood, nor the one in the cathedral. It was an internal light, a crack from the inside out that reflected wherever his nose pointed.
And suddenly the man fell silent and said nothing more. He just turned his back and walked away as if nothing had happened.
This was actually a good thing, as it gave Luppo at least the end of the day to breathe a little!
However, life had a somewhat unusual future in store for Luppo, as after a few minutes of tranquility, the boy fainted.
• • •
Luppo woke up in a place perceptibly below the earth.
The surrounding walls exuded moisture.
The musty smell was as thick as old dust. The cold from the stone floor seeped through his clothes and the bandages around his head. I had no idea how much time had passed since that night. I didn't know where he was. Or if someone had rescued him or if he had been abandoned there.
Days dragged on in silence. No light and no visitors. Only hunger and thirst.
Then, at some point that I couldn't measure, footsteps broke through the blessed silence. They were firm and accompanied by the aroma of mint incense.
The door creaked, but Luppo didn't move.
"Aomine-kun," said a sober voice, yet not entirely devoid of compassion. "I'm Sister Matsuda from the Internal Affairs Department. I've come to deliver this."
The sound of fabric being placed on the floor filled the room.
"Civilian clothes. As of today, your stay in this mausoleum is over. The Pentaculum can no longer house you." The girl slowly unloaded a pile of poorly finished clothes.
She waited for an answer, but it didn't come.
"Look, it's big out there... You'll definitely find a place to continue your life."
She turned around, but before she could leave completely, her voice returned:
"The morning bell will ring in three hours. Please be off this grounds by then."
The girl closed the door and the latch rattled, creating a sharp jingle.
Luppo slowly crept over to the pile of clothes and felt through them. He felt first a collarless shirt, jeans, a scarf, and an old coat. No sacred symbols that hinted at the Pentacle.
Luppo dressed in silence. Every movement he made made his joints ache and crack. His entire body seemed unaccustomed to walking and normal daily activities.
He found the wall, and slid his fingers towards the exit. His steps were made with extreme slowness.
He had unconsciously memorized the direction to the exit stairs, and as he climbed the steps, he heard the familiar sound of bells.
The temple was still in operation, but no one was waiting for it.
No one would look for him.
He crossed the courtyard, and felt eyes on him. But no one spoke, no one interfered.
As he crossed the main gate, he heard it close behind him with a bang.
"So tell me what I am, God... Tell me why...? Why am I here...? ," he questioned himself.
It was forty-three days like that. Aomine Luppo is a boy who holds back his tears when he needs to. Forty-three nights of hunger, cold and fever. And then, on the forty-fourth...
The sky was dull and there was no moonlight. He was rummaging through a trash can behind a corner restaurant, whose exhaust fan was still shaking at the top, giving off the stale smell of grease and burnt garlic.
Luppo could hear the sounds of the distant street, but there, in that muffled corner between concrete walls and stacked boxes, everything seemed to be underwater.
Aomine Luppo chewed on a handful of cold, hardened rice, taken from a half-open garbage bag behind a corner restaurant in a dark, peaceful alley.
A smell of rancid grease and burnt garlic rose from the extractor fan.
His hands were shaking, not only from the cold, but also from weakness.
It had been days since he had eaten anything other than scraps.
The bandages on his head were dirty and stiff with dried blood but he didn't dare to touch them.
Forty-four days had passed since the Pentacle had cast him out.
In his humble perception, each day seemed longer than the last.
The alley was narrow, muffled by concrete walls and stacked cardboard boxes. The hum of the exhaust fan, the distant echo of cars on the street, the rustling of rats in the shadows—all of it formed a kind of mental map that guided him.
He learned to feel the world in a new way as if blindness had unlocked something inside him.
That night, however, something made him stop.
A chill ran down his spine, and he dropped the trash bag with clenched fingers.
While he was chewing, he heard footsteps.
It wasn't the heavy footsteps of a guard or the hurried shuffling of a restaurant employee, but something lighter, more calculated.
Someone was there, watching him.
"You're a long way from the Temples, kid," said a deep voice, with a hint of curiosity.
Luppo turned slowly.
Without sight, he had to rely on sound to locate the person. The voice was coming from about five meters to his left, near a stack of boxes. He stood silently, waiting, his muscles tense.
"Relax," the voice continued, now closer.
"I didn't come to hurt you. I just thought it was curious to find someone wearing comfortable clothes rummaging through trash."
"Who...?" Luppo asked, his voice hoarse from disuse.
"Who...?"
The man took a step forward, and Luppo heard the soft scrape of leather against the floor.
"You look like hell. What happened to your eyes?"
He shook his head, trying to dispel the dread.
The man laughed, in a short, dry screech.
"Hm, I see. But out of spite, are you hungry? Crumbs aren't very nutritious. Would you mind going for ramen with me?"
Luppo was suspicious. No one offered anything for free, not nowadays.
But the emptiness in my stomach spoke louder.
"..."
Luppo tried his best to understand the stranger's intentions, but he couldn't. It was too good to be true. Too good indeed! Food coming from a well-dressed man, and for free too...!
"I like hearing interesting stories," the man said in an amused tone. "Especially when they come from interesting people, and you don't look like someone who's destined to eat crumbs."