Renowned scientist Dr. Kaizuka Inaho remains in the testing phase of his highly controversial hypothesis. Coined the 'Eye Print' study, Kaizuka hypothesizes that through mapping of intricate personalized retina, humans may be able to better understand the essence of relationships between identity transcending that of singular lifetimes. You read that correctly, Kaizuka hopes to prove that through his mapping of retina, that humans are able to transcend death. His study plays upon the same theory that makes finger printing a credible science: that every individual has an intricate, specialized retina print that is unique to only them. Kaizuka is seeking to match living individuals with retinas of the deceased, and through a series of tests relating to memories of the previous life, determine if the person is indeed a reincarnate of the deceased. Kaizuka is canvassing the globe for ten year old children born in January, with blue-green eyes. With such a daunting task in front of him, Kaizuka seems surprisingly optimistic, and highly assured in the validity of his theory, and his ability to find one single child that fits his ideal profile. "I've spent several years on this project, but I've yet to find the child I'm looking for. Of course there is only one child I'm looking for," he told us. "It has taken a great deal of time, but I am patient, and science works on no schedule."

Prologue

He dreams of her often, but the details are ever changing. Her hair is shades of gold one night, brown another, and then a week later, she is a pale blond instead of the vibrant gold of before. She is taller, she is shorter, she is petite but powerful. Her smile is vibrant, her lips supple and gorgeous as they shape around words and sounds and blessed air. He remembers meeting her at 13 or 15, it was an odd number, but not too old. Old enough that she was taller than him, until he caught her at 20 something. He remembers her favorite foods and the sounds she made when she ate, her willow neck as he lavished it with attention. He remembers a huge range of laughter, from small to large to kind to cruel to sweet to bitter, and every shape or flavor between, but there are a few he still misses, that will never come back to him. He thinks of questions left unsaid, of answers he'll never have, of letters long burned in desperation and handwriting that will never be scrawled neatly across post it notes or note cards or journals with pithy daily mutterings. He envisions splashes of color and paint and dye and fabric draped and flowing around sun kissed legs and ocean sprays on milky skin.

He remembers, or dreams, or imagines these things; they all blend into one person with different features, a complex being that he knew, and loved, and misses more than he is able to comprehend. She slips out of his fingers like sand and water, like mud crumbling through the gaps in his fingers, but leaving enough soupy grains that he feels like there is more than there is.

She died at 22, a year after they were married, and ten years later, he has not stopped missing her for even one day.

But of all the things that slip in and out of him, of all the small instances that remind him, and tear him to pieces, Inaho remembers her eyes. They haunt and smile at him, their color so unique and distinct that he recognizes them every time he catches a glimpse. Those eyes are his dreams, his nightmares, his past, and Inaho is sure, his future. Those eyes are the key, their intricate weave, their distinctive color, all that is good and bring in the world was held inside them, and he is positive that he will find them again.