Chapter Text
Screams.
Horrible, heart-rending screams—so loud they could have burst eardrums, had the listener not been in a different room from those poor souls.
Lying on the classroom floor was a group of four students who—fortunately or unfortunately—had stayed behind to talk during the break. It was a group of friends, all silent, unable to utter a single word for fear of being heard. There were two girls and two boys.
The two girls were huddled beneath the windows, covering their mouths with both hands and staying as close to each other as possible. One of them—Mokeshi, with her short, shoulder-length blue hair—was trembling like a leaf, glancing in every direction; she hoped this was just a nightmare, an all-too-realistic dream... But when she heard screams from the classroom next door, that foolish hope shattered instantly. She clung to her friend, Horuka, as tightly as she could, shaking all the while.
Meanwhile, the boys stood frozen near the door—decidedly a terrible place to be during a massacre. Yatoro, the oldest of the group, timidly peeked through the door's window, gently pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His emerald eyes scanned the silent hallway; it was dark... How? It was still daytime; how was it even... Yatoro froze, his pale skin turning as white as snow: blood—blood on the floor—and the lifeless body of an unfortunate young student. She was a first-year...
—"what did you see, bro...? You are pale as-"
The last boy tried to speak, stepping up behind Yatoro and leaning over his shoulder, but the one with glasses covered his mouth almost immediately.
—"shut up, Rokuro! There's a dead corpse there... We can't get out of this classroom until police arrives..."
Yatoro interrupted, nervous; moving away from the window with trembling legs, he walked quickly toward his bag and carefully took out his cell phone. The other three turned pale when Yatoro mentioned a dead body.
Rokuro quickly peeked out to check and felt nauseous upon realizing that Yatoro wasn't lying at all; he hurried toward the bespectacled young man, careful not to let his footsteps sound too loud.
With trembling fingers and filled with anticipation, Yatoro dialed the police, muffling the phone's speaker so it would make as little noise as possible; the four of them waited...
Riling... Rîiiing...... Rîiiing......
...........
... No one answered
Yatoro tried once more, only to get the same result time and again. No signal? Impossible—he had always had a signal at school; why not now? So, he decided to call his mother; perhaps she could call the police... He dialed the number and waited. Rokuro, Horuka, and Mokeshi waited too, filled with worry and sheer anxiety.
... Rîiiing........ Riiiing....... Beep
Voicemail... What? Voicemail? Her mother never—*never*—let it go to voicemail; he was starting to get genuinely worried... He handed the phone to Rokuro; maybe his parents could help?
... Useless
Same result—same result with Rokuro, same result with Horuka, same result with Mokeshi; no one was answering, no one was doing anything.
—"what the hell is going on... This is so weird... Wait! Try call Matt!"
Rokuro remarked with concern, got up from the floor, and looked out the classroom window—which faced directly onto the street—only to freeze in place. Yatoro, however, oblivious to the unknown reality outside, looked at Rokuro in confusion.
—"your little sister? Did she even bring her phone to school?"
Yatoro wondered aloud as he dialed Rokuro's sister's number, still visibly hesitant. When he received no response from his friend, he looked up from his phone; Mokeshi and Horuka also appeared horrified as they gazed out the window.
—"Alright, alright, what's going on? Why are you all so..."
Yatoro muttered, rising heavily from the floor as the phone rang, waiting for an answer on the other end; the boy's emerald eyes turned toward the window. —"Dear God."
Yatoro felt the air leave his lungs—heavy as lead, painful as broken glass. Dozens, if not thousands, of people lay dead and slaughtered outside the school and scattered across the streets: bodies covered in bite marks and gaping wounds spurting blood, scalps torn off, eyes burst—the sight made every one of the teenagers feel nauseous. But Yatoro saw something else: creatures—tall, wiry, and black. He forced his eyes to focus on them. Hiding behind trees were unnaturally thin creatures; their bodies, a tangle of black wires and frayed strands, moved silently back and forth with a feather-light step.
The call was answered...