A Pound of Flesh

Izzy

His eyes turn black.

It's a gradual process, one that take place in the course of years. But Izzy is nothing, if not a scientist. He notices, the slow change in color. He notices, too, the discordance between his memories and his eyesight. Huh, I used to be able to read that. Funny, I didn't think this was in my field of vision from there.

He notices. That doesn't mean he pays attention.

Funnily enough, it's his mother who figures out what is wrong.

"Honey," she asks, something like concern in her voice- as if she isn't sure if she should worry yet. "Has there been any troubles in the digital world recently?"

No, none that he's aware. Why?

"Mrs Takaishi called earlier." It's kind of weird, to know that the parents of his friend circle are their own friend circle as well. But hey, they do they. He supposes they need a net of people who can understand them as much as Izzy does. "She's worried about Tk. Something went wrong. Also, your eyes. So I was wondering?"

...huh.

Interesting.

He receives the first mail a few days later- a polite inquiry from Mimi regarding roots under her skin- and the others follow during the weak in a waterfall of gradually panicking messages.

Izzy's eyes reflect the light strangely, in the mirror. It's funny. He hadn't noticed.

He meets up with the others in the park. He picks up sunglasses at the store on the way, because people keep staring at him, and because he's embarrassed that it took him this long to realize that he wasn't subject to a simple change in eye color.

They all look at him expectantly. Curious or scared or uncomfortable but all eager, ready for any explanation they can get.

None of them flinch when Izzy stares back.

"Compound eyes." He says, lifting his glasses up- it's not like Sora can hide those feathers of hers- or Tk seems interested ceasing to smile anytime soon. "So. I have some theories."