Classes were normal. Laughter rolled down the halls, echoing like background noise in some bad dream.
Nagito walked among it, invisible. A fixture. Like the lockers, like the linoleum floor. No one cared. His medium length light-brown hair being the only features anyone noticed.
But beneath the laughter, there was a hum. Wrong.
Kids whispering in corners. Teachers smiling too hard. Phones buzzing, never quiet.
"Did you hear what he said?"
"Riku's acting weird."
"Something's off."
Then, the announcement. A lockdown drill. Midday. Too sudden.
"We've done these before," Riku said. They crouched in the dark classroom, the lock clicking.
"No." Nagito muttered, eyes cutting toward the window. "This isn't routine."
Outside, teachers ran. Not jogged—ran.
Then, the sound. Gunshots. Far, but real.
Nagito flinched. Riku didn't.
"W-What the hell…" Nagito stumbled back. The room snapped silent. Kids shook, eyes wet.
"I don't wanna die—"
"I gotta call my mom—"
Riku leaned close, tugging Nagito's shirt. His whisper burned.
"Na. Let's go."
"What?"
"See if it's safe. Out there."
Another gunshot. A scream. The alarms howled. More footsteps moved rapidly. The air was more different than it had ever been before. Nagito's stomach twisted.
"Do you have a death wish?!"
Four of them in the room. Two frozen, clutching their knees. Then Riku. Then Nagito. Riku adjusted his tie like he was getting ready for class, not survival.
"We're sitting ducks," he whispered. "Waiting to be killed."
Nagito stared. He saw a glimmer in Riku's pocket—metal. Didn't think much of it. Not yet.
"…Fine." He forced it out, throat dry. "What's to lose?"
Still completely disregarding going outside could take their lives, they moved. Legs stiff, adrenaline buzzing. No goodbye for the other two. Just the door, the hall, and the sprint.
Nagito panted hard, lungs on fire. "This way!" His voice cracked as they cut corners.
Stairs. Always the stairs. He slammed the bar, metal clanging as they climbed.
"The roof!" Nagito gasped. "We'll be safe on the roof!"
They fought the door. Rusted shut. Finally it broke, slamming open as they stumbled onto the rooftop. Both collapsed, breathing like animals.
Nagito pressed a hand to the concrete. Hot. Rough. Real. He forced the words out, desperate to believe them.
"We're safe here."
Riku rose slowly. Adjusted his jacket. No words. Nagito stood, legs shaky, moving toward the edge. He wanted to see the distance. How far down. Maybe plan a way out.
"Hey, Na."
"Yeah?"
Nagito turned.
The world stopped.
A gun. Small. Black. Heavy in Riku's hand.
"What are you—"
The shot ripped through his stomach. A burst of sound, heat, pain flooding every nerve. Nagito's knees buckled. Blood. Warm, spreading. His breath hitched. Riku scoffed. Spitting on the ground.
"Dumb bastard."
Nagito staggered backward. His heel found nothing. Gravity yanked him over the edge.
The world flipped. Sky. Ground. Sky again.
Impact. Pain shattered everything. His vision blurred out into static.
'This is it. I'm dead.' Thoughts bled through the haze.
'I wish I had done more. Or had a cool superpower.'
His chest heaved, lungs drowning in fire.
"Right…. that stuff only happens in anime and manga. I was fifteen. But… at least I died with no regrets, right?"
Silence. Cold creeping in.
"…Damn. I wish… I could—"
Black swallowed him whole.