"We have but one purpose, gentlemen," A pink-haired woman shouted, pacing back and forth in front of about fifty soldiers, the medals on her uniform tinkling with every step. "And that is to destroy evil in its entirety!"
The rhythmic clicking of General Luka Megurine's suede heels stopped abruptly, regaining the attention of the soldiers present. Her sky blue eyes burned with a white-hot intensity as she pulled the red and black armband from its place on her sleeve, holding it up for all to see.
"This symbol stands for peace and happiness," she shouted, pointing at the white swastika. "This is what we strive to achieve! Blood will be shed, and lives will be lost, but we will prevail! We will regain the hope, the peace, and the happiness which filled the world at the beginning of time!"
A spirited cry rose from the soldiers, bringing a triumphant smile to General Megurine's face. All of them, so young and fueled by the military's good intentions…
...it was a shame that most of them would be dead within a week.
Of the forty-five soldiers Luka Megurine addressed that day, Len Kagamine was the sole survivor. Upon his return to headquarters, he was showered with medals, awards, and even promotions. Night after night, he found himself unable to shake the single face and single statement engraved in his mind.
One eye – just one – with a blood red iris. Shining flaxen hair - like his - brushed into a bun and held in place by a blood red flower. A scar which peeked out from behind her bangs, crossing the bridge of her nose and obviously stretching across her left eye. Silken red minidress and white thigh-highs painted with blood in the shape of cherry blossoms. A manic smile and a blood-spattered gun.
She was insane, they told him. A girl with no humanity, a doll whose only purpose was to kill. Len had seen her in action, and indeed, she was certainly insane. Anyone who could laugh like a hyena while single-handedly slaughtering forty-four soldiers had to be.
For some reason, she'd chosen to spare him.
After his fellow soldiers were all facedown, unmoving, and draining of their blood, this mystery assassin had stood upright and looked straight at Len. Her one eye flashed with insanity before dulling and taking on an innocent sparkle.
"You can live," she giggled. "You're too cute to kill." Her voice dropped an octave or two as her mad grin turned to a murderous glare. "But if you cross me again, I won't be so kind." With that, she dove into the shadows and vanished.
Her words haunted him. The blood spattered on her furisode-style coat had to be avenged. The association she worked for was the military's primary target – take away their assassin and the rest would be child's play, he thought.
Len would have liked nothing better than to be on the squad that caught this girl, but he was sure that because of his disability, he wouldn't be chosen.
The scar across his eye and nose mirrored the assassin's scar. Just like her, he was missing an eye, as made obvious by the eyepatch he wore.
Len had grown up in the home of a lawyer, orphaned by evil. When he was twelve, a woman broke into the house to steal his guardian's daughter – his best friend. In the end, the lawyer and his wife were killed. Their daughter kidnapped. Len left for dead and blind in his right eye. Several months later, it was announced that the lawyer's daughter turned up dead in the next city. The photo of her eyes – one red, the damaged one blue – confirmed it. Without a moment's hesitation, Len enlisted in the military. He had been orphaned twice by evil, and his only friend had been murdered by evil.
He would someday destroy it, and not let even a speck of its dust escape.