This is a side story for Sword Art Online: Snow and Bells.


Some time during SAO incident...

“Hey, Daddy? Can you tell me the story of your eyes?” Claire, my daughter, asks me.

I scratch my head, remembering the time.

“Didn’t I already tell you how?”

“You did, but never the story. How you were when you were a kid," the girl asks in a mean tone.

I raise my hands in defeat.

“Okay, Okay.”


Before, my eyes were brown. It was plain, but it didn't bother me until my eye color was changed. But as I was saying, it was just an ordinary day after school. I went on my usual routine to eat at some fast-food restaurant and head home, thus, ending my day. But that day, the day I had my eyes tattooed, was obviously different. Along the way after I ate, these two guys, with punk mohawks and full of tattoos, came up to me.

“Hey, kid. Wanna change the colors of your eyes?”

“Don’t want to, don’t care.” I said, without even looking at the two bastards.

I keep walking. And then, an arm wraps around my neck and a hand is put over my mouth. I attempt to scream, but the hand over my mouth is muffling it. The guy drags me into his shop.

As I struggled, I couldn’t help, but notice how colorful the shop was. I’ve had always imagined it being dark. There were designs on the walls of different kinds. Tigers, dragons, guns, you name it. The usical background was rock. Not too surprised about that.  These guys finally took me to one of the chairs. It was extended to where someone could lay on it. No doubt it was for me. So, they slammed me onto it, and strapped me down with buckles. Huh. How convenient, right? The buckles were there to old a screaming kid down.

Finally, they put duct tape over my mouth. They were actually smarter than they looked, keep in mind. Someone new comes and sits down in a nearby black office chair. He sighs in pleasure, like a guy relaxing on a plane trip. This guy looked no different than the other guys. Just bald and skinnier.

“Get relaxed as much as you can because you’ll be feeling….pain. Ahahaha!” the skinny guy exclaims.

This guy was obviously crazy. Similar to how I am when I’m in battle. Except, this guy had a torturous feel.

But, at the moment, I was afraid. Who wouldn’t? If they knew someone was going to stick a needle through your eyes.

“Now, I haven’t done this before. You should be lucky!” But I didn’t. This made my situation even worse. And so, I watched the guy as he gathered the paint and the needle. I’ve heard about eye-tattooing before. Well, just the needle part anyways.

“Hm...your eyes are maybe a red will do. Yes, yes. Hey, hold his head straight will ya?”

One of the guys that dragged me in here came up and clasped his hands around my head.

The artist got up and cracked his neck. He checked to see if the syringe worked then, he aimed for my iris. When he injected it, I screamed. It was painful at the beginning, but it calmed down.

“Ooh. Look at the cloud forming. It’s covering his iris.”

Then he moved on to the next. Painful. But less pain later. It was finally over, so I can breathe again. I was shivering from the experience.

“Let him loose.”


“Let him loose. It’s fine. Nothing’s bad happened as far as I can tell. He won't strangle me.”

Boy, did I think he was wrong. As soon as this guy let me go, I got up, about to attack the bald dude. But then I saw my reflection.


Surprisignly, I actually looked….good. I had thought that I wanted to strangle the guy...but this was holding me back. When I saw, I ran off in shame. I believed that I wouldn't live with the fact that people might isolate themselves from me, thinking I'm a freak. But I never saw these guys again. I stopped walking my same route from fear.

The turnout, however, when I went to school the next day, was amazing. Everyone at school stared at me in awe. I managed to attract lots of attention. And I tought dressing up and having a clean and neat mohawk was enough. Although, my parents didn’t care. They never did. Not that it mattered to me anyways.


“And so, Claire, that’s why people say not to talk to strangers.”

“Okay. But, you really don’t know what happened to them? The guys who tattooed your eyes?”

“Nope. Not that I know.”

That time, if I had a chance to go back, would I keep my eyes the way they are now?

Author's Notes

This side story is quite short, I know. But, soon, I'll add more to it, maybe.

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