She Must Die

Haruka and Makoto were the only ones left inside the classroom 2-5.

It was time for the summer sunset streaking in from the horizon, and the colors dyed the room into vermilion.

Twenty-three desks and chairs were arranged meticulously, as always. The name of the most recent student on duty, Kitajima, was scrawled messily on the blackboard at the front of the class. A cool breeze flowed through the open windows, intertwining with the lingering summer heat.

As summer drew to a close, the evening cicadas sang their final harmonies.

Haruka sat at her desk in the back by the window, and Makoto sat at his to her right.

Bathed in the light of the setting sun, Haruka's long black hair glowed red.

The nape of her pale neck was radiant in the evening light.

The red scarf of her summer uniform trembled in the breeze.

Her eyes narrowed as her gaze swept over the classroom.

A slipper hung from her slender toes, tottering back and forth.

Without a word, Makoto watched her. Even seated, Haruka's perfect proportions were transparent. His eyes were imprisoned by the shape of her face. She was on a different level to Makoto, with his average build and plain face.

The two of them had come to the classroom that day because that was what she had wanted.

Summer break was nearing its end.

Makoto struggled to envision what the second term might bring.

Haruka turned to look at him.

Hey, what do you think of me?

What do you mean?

Just that, what do you think of me?

Haruka's eyes held a seriousness. Her typically clear gaze was filled with an expression he had never seen before.

She's beautiful.

If you didn't guess already, I like you.

Thanks, I like you too.

Haruka smiled.

What a perfect beauty.

Makoto grinned back at her.

Haruka extended her slender hand towards him. As Makoto rose to his feet, he took her hand—it was soft and cool. He tugged gently, and Haruka stood up silently. The rustling of her skirt filled the still classroom.

Hey, what would you do if I ended up destroying the world?

The figure that flew in through the glass was a heavily armed soldier, it was of the likes of something out of a Hollywood movie.

Immediately following the faint sound of an impact on the western window, a dark mass came bursting into the science lab. The school's windows were made of specially tempered glass to prevent students from accidentally breaking them. Instead of shattering into hundreds of sharp shards, the glass turned into powder in an instant and rained to the floor.

The dark mass stood up. Their face was concealed by a black mask, like what a bank robber would use, and they wore a stiff khaki jacket and a bulletproof vest with unidentifiable equipment attached to it. Spare magazines, grenades, and a knife were also clearly visible. A small device, presumably for communication, was visible at their collar and right ear. Gloved hands held an automatic rifle, aimed without hesitation at the students.

The intruder's voice was low and steady.

Don't anyone move till I say so.

There was, however, a hint of nerves in the low voice. It was a man's voice.

He voice wasn't as loud, but his words were clear enough to reach every nook of the lab.

Makoto had just lighted the gas burner for an experiment on the combustion of magnesium. A beaker filled with water sat above the burner. The water was meant to be brought to a boil, then a few drops of phenolphthalein solution were to be added. These were the instructions the science teacher, Mr. Ito, had given, although Makoto could not remember why. Mr. Ito was an uninspiring teacher who today, after delivering some instructions, had claimed he had forgotten something in the staff room and vanished. During lab classes, Mr. Ito was always absconding to the staff room, returning after about twenty minutes to check on the students before disappearing again.

The gas burner hissed as it spit out its flame.

Haruka and Makoto sat across from each other. They were both in group six for science class. Six months ago, they had drawn lots for lab groups and Makoto had gotten lucky.

Though right now, Haruka froze as she was clutching a flask in her hand.

The sound of someone screaming outside could be heard through the broken window, along with the symphony of the cicadas.

Everyone in the science lab simply stared at the man in the black mask. Despite the occasional news of school intruders, the sight of a man bursting in through the window just did not seem real.

The first one in the class to budge was Masahiro Tayama.

He was the type of classmate who flew under the radar. He was neither particularly academically gifted nor athletic, despite being a little on the tall side. About all Makoto knew about him was that he loved sci-fi novels and he was a psychokinetic.

Without a word, Masahiro sprang for the window next to him.

The lab was on the fourth floor of the school building. Any normal person jumping from that window would end with a crunch, but Masahiro was a powerful psychokinesis user, and could probably hit the brakes just before impact.

It all happened so suddenly that Makoto didn't have a clue of what he should do.

The moment Masahiro shattered the window (likely using his psychokinesis to crack the tempered glass, and then causing it to disintegrate), the soldier in the black mask swiftly pointed his weapon at Masahiro and pulled the trigger. There was a dry crack, like that of a BB from an airsoft gun.

Makoto was not able to see if the bullet had hit Masahiro, but he soon heard a sound like an egg cracking coming from beneath the window.

The lab was completely silent, just as it had been before Masahiro vanished. Not one person let out a cry.

A classmate had plummeted from the fourth floor and met a grisly end. The sound was not just a bone snapping. It was more like something large had been squashed.

Makoto could understand why no one, including himself, made a sound. For Makoto and the other junior high school students, death was something slow, in which a person took their time to pass away on a hospital bed. Masahiro died suddenly and his body was not visible to them. It was almost as if they had all hallucinated his death. They felt like Masahiro might even be about to come back through the science room door, laughing and saying that it was all a joke.

Makoto assumed the strange man was now about to take off his mask and smile at them as if it had been a funny prank.

The man repeated the same line.

Don't anyone move unltil I say so.

After what everyone saw, no student wanted to end up like Masahiro.

There was an unsettling sound of breathing, like she was having a seizure, coming from one of the girls.

Noticing that, the hair on the back of Makoto's neck stood on end.

Minato City 22nd Junior High School was one of the temporary schools built in the aftermath of the Great Heisei Earthquake.

The earthquake had struck fourteen years ago on February 15th. All of Tokyo's twenty-three wards had been hit, but Minato City and Chiyoda City bore the worst of it. As most of the buildings crumbed to the ground and fires raged, what had once been proud commercial districts were reduced to wastelands. With the collapse of infrastructure in the other wards as well, Tokyo lost its place as the capital of the country.

For an interim solution, the government relocated the capital to Nagoya, Japan's second largest city at the time.

Although moving the capital to Nagoya was intended to only be temporary until Tokyo was rebuilt, Nagoya was still the capital more than a decade later. Following the relocation, most businesses transferred their headquarters to Nagoya, causing real estate prices in Tokyo's twenty-three wards to crash. This then led to a population boom in the twenty-three wards as people living from the suburbs began moving in.

Before the earthquake, the number of elementary and junior high schools within the wards had significantly decreased due to people leaving the city for the suburbs. But with the sudden surge in the student population after, existing schools quickly became overcrowded. The 22nd Junior High School in Minato City was one of the temporary schools the governor of Tokyo had ordered to be built in a hurry.

The school was situated on a small hill, surrounded by residences, where a famous building in Roppongi once stood. The trees that were planted 14 years ago had grown tall, giving the impression that the school was nestled in a forest when viewed from afar.

The school had 312 students: 141 boys and 171 girls. The fact that there were more female students than male was reflected in junior high schools all over Japan. The birth rate of boys had been slowly declining since the earthquake.

Each grade was divided into nine classes, with around twenty students in each class.

The school had the regular classrooms arranged in two main buildings—east and west—that were connected on each of their four floors, plus one separate building. The main buildings had first-grade classrooms on the fourth floors, second-grade classrooms on the third floors, and the third-grade classrooms on the second floors. The art room, workshop, and nurse's office were on the first floor. Even though the school had only been built fourteen years earlier, there were already rumors of ghosts appearing in the art room every night and strange noises in the nurse's office. In a few more years the school would surely have a whole host of mysteries and lore surrounding it.

There were also large rooms for special classes at the ends of the second, third, and fourth floors. On the fourth floor of the east building was the music room and the science room was on the fourth floor of the west building. The third floors had the audiovisual arts room in the east building and the computer room in the west. Last, the home economics room could be found on the east building's second floor. Until a few years back, the staff room and the principal's office were on the second floor of the west building, but those rooms were empty now. The staff grew year by year until they had to relocate to the second floor of the new third building.

That building had been added about five years ago and connected to the main western building by a walkway.

At first, the new building only housed the library, and there was no direct passage connecting it to the main buildings. But when the staff room was moved there, they built a walkway on the second floor to connect it to the western building to make it easier for the teachers to get back and forth.

Next to the staff room was the principal's office, and across the corridor from the principal's office was a display case. In that case was a trophy and commemorative photo celebrating the softball team winning the national championship three years ago. Only the vice principal at the school's founding, the man now occupying the school's finest oak chair saw that trophy as the first chapter in the glorious history of the 22nd Junior High School. No other temporary junior high schools had won a national championship in extracurricular activities, and the principal naturally thought that such an accomplishment was largely thanks to his own prowess.

Like other temporary junior high schools, the percentage of students with supernatural abilities at the 22nd Junior High School was far higher than the national average—experts were attributing this phenomenon to the earthquake. As one might expect, educating such students presented some unique challenges.

A telepathic student could potentially access test answers in a teacher's mind or memories. Someone could get hurt if a student who could manipulate objects with psychokinesis decided to disrupt class—hurling a desk at someone was a somewhat bigger problem than tossing an eraser.

It was a daily routine for the principal to deliver motivational speeches during the morning and evening school broadcasts. Borrowing the words of historical greats, he condemned the horrors of violence and lauded the value of friendship. He believed his speeches fostered unity among students, eradicated violence within the school, and contributed to the softball team's national championship.

In truth, it was only a coincidence, a stroke of good fortune, that no major incident had occurred at the 22nd Junior High School. There actually had been many incidents, especially in the past two years, that had only narrowly avoided becoming national headlines. In one instance, a bullied student had brought a knife to school, but the tip of the blade miraculously broke just as they were about to stab their bully. Another time, the fixtures holding a rooftop water tank came loose, causing the nearly ten-ton tank to come crashing into classroom 2-5 while class was in session. Despite destroying the outer wall and windows, the tank miraculously flew right past all the students, smashing through the wall and out into the hallway. The tank just brushed by the head of a lucky girl seated by the window, somehow only sending one of her hairpins flying.

The hallway wall was fixed, and the school had one oddly perfect wall from then on.

Makoto felt sweat pouring from his forehead. He wiped it with his sleeve, but the sweat kept pouring down. He felt as if his stomach was trying to tie itself in knots. When he looked over, he saw that Haruka was also glistening with sweat and she was clutching her stomach.

Makoto sensed all of Haruka's fears as if it were his own. Being a powerful telepath, Haruka could unintentionally radiate her thoughts out to those around her without realizing it if under intense stress.

Makoto remembered a case called the 'Haruka Incident' back in the third grade of elementary school.

It was mid-February, and the city rooftops were covered in snow. Makoto and his classmates had gone sledding down the levees by the Tsurukawa River. Despite their parents' warnings against sledding on the levees, Makoto and the other boys naturally gravitated there, with Haruka and the other girls tagging along, albeit reluctantly. Once the sledding started, however, even the girls started having a blast, and it eventually evolved into a boys versus girls sledding contest to see who could sled down the slope in the coolest way.

The boys and girls took turns sledding down the slope, smallest kids first, biggest last. Being small, Makoto did his run towards the beginning, and afterwards he cheered on the others from the riverbank.

The last boy, a big kid named Kushida, put on a show. Lying on his sled, he rocketed down the slope and glided all the way to the middle of the riverbed. The boys on the riverbank cheered as the girls booed.

Before the applause faded, Haruka, the last to go for the girls, stood at the top of the slope.

While Kushida might have had the upper hand in terms of weight, Haruka stood at least five centimeters taller than him. She had been growing fast from around then.

Makoto still remembered perfectly the image of her in that moment.

She had her long hair tied up in a bun, hidden under her knit cap. Her light skin was even more radiant in the chill. Her clear eyes shined brilliantly in the glare of the snow. No other classmate could ever be considered lovely as long as Haruka was around. Her face looked a little apprehensive. In truth, she was the kind of girl who disliked such rowdy adventures as this.

The girls on the riverbank cheered her on as Haruka nervously put the blue plastic sled down and disappeared into it. From Makoto's standpoint by the riverbank, all he could see were her legs protruding from the sides. The sled started to tilt gradually then picked up speed rapidly, shooting down the nearly twenty-meter embankment.

As the sled slid down the slope and onto the riverbank, she was clearly moving faster than Kushida. She kept her momentum, whizzing past Makoto at an incredible speed, and glided smoothly into the river swollen with snowmelt.

This is my chance to impress everyone, thought the young Makoto. The water might be a bit chilly, but I can swim. It should be easy to dive in and save her. If I do, she'll think I'm cool for sure.

Without a second thought, he sprinted to the river's edge, drew a deep breath, and kicked off the bank into the freezing water. Naive young Makoto did not yet know to fear winter rivers.

That primal fear of drowning suddenly gripped Makoto.

He was at the mercy of the flow, unable to breathe, which in turn caused his head to feel like it would split open. It was if a razor blade was in the back of his head, scraping away at his brain one cell layer at a time.

Fear had ensnared Makoto even before he started to drown. Gravity was pulling him away from the water's surface.

With an eerie splash, his skin went numb.

Makoto suddenly realized that his arms and legs refused to move, a new wave of terror surging within him.

If things continued this way, he really would drown.

Makoto desperately tried to suppress the dread and calm his mind.

It's okay, it's okay. I have enough air. I took a breath before I went under.

I need to keep calm.

The fear brought by his limbs not working subsided somewhat, but that panic about drowning stayed put.

This fear seemed completely independent from Makoto's own mind. It felt as if someone else's thoughts were coming from inside him.

This emotion, separate from his own, seeped into his heart, causing havoc.

Makoto had never experienced such intense fear before.

His whole body shut down, the freezing water biting the muscles beneath his skin.

The power of the water forced his mouth closed, causing him to bite his tongue. The taste of rusted iron filled his mouth.

As he was swept along, the strange foreign emotions he had been feeling suddenly vanished.

His body finally started obeying him, but the splash he made when he dove into the river still echoed in his ears.

Later, Makoto found out that it was Haruka who had planted that bomb within him, that intense fear of drowning.

It had been a wave of psychic energy.

It was at that moment that Haruka's telepathic abilities were born.

Luckily, Makoto and Haruka were both washed onto riverbank unharmed. Haruka had passed out, but began to breathe again as soon as Makoto shook her.

Makoto received a severe scolding from his parents and caught a terrible cold. He ran a fever near 40 degrees and his entire body ached. While he was absent from school, Haruka came to visit, but Makoto's mother turned her away at the door. She did not seem willing to welcome the person who had put her precious son in such a situation.

He spent his birthday in bed two days later, and when he finally dragged his still-sluggish body back to school a week later, instead of applause from his classmates for his brave leap into the river, he found he had been left behind by the psychic ability craze. Everyone was buzzing about the first manifestation of psychic powers in their class.

The series of events were now known as "The Haruka Incident." Makoto's actions were seen as little more than a bit of flavor on top of Haruka's powers awakening.

Makoto slumped down at his desk, feeling dispirited. Then he heard a voice, but not with his ears.

I'm sorry.

The words echoed directly in his mind. When he raised his head, Haruka was standing in front of his desk, looking apologetic.

Then, she actually spoke.

And . . . thank you.

It was nothing.

Makoto chuckled, which made the somber look on Haruka's face fade.

Haruka really had been lovely.

And that loveliness had now transformed into beauty.

Back in the present, Makoto saw that Haruka's perfect brows were furrowed, terror pouring out of her. Her normally pale skin was like porcelain.

The other students also had their eyes fixated on Haruka. Like Makoto, they had also been swept up by her wave of psychic energy.

At the soldier's order, the students huddled at the back of the classroom. The science room was quite large. One wall had the entrance from the hallway, and another door led to the prep room. Chemical shelves lined the wall opposite the blackboard, with three rows of three lab desks in the center of the room with a wide empty space behind them. The gun in the man's hand made sure that everyone squirmed into that space.

Over twenty classmates clumped in small groups sat on the floor. Some of the girls were whimpering. Whether they were overcome by fear upon realizing this was no dream or television drama, or grieving Masahiro's death, Makoto could not tell.

Nobody dared to utter a word. It seemed as if a single sound would draw the wrath of the man posted at the center of the room. The man kept watch over the students from the slit in his balaclava. His gaze swept left to right but then seemed to linger momentarily on Haruka. Upon noticing his stare, Haruka clung to Makoto's sleeve, as if silently begging for help. Even after the man's gaze moved on, she did not let go.

Despite the dire circumstances, Makoto felt a ripple of happiness. She had picked him. There were other boys in the room, but she had chosen him. His heart filled with a natural warmth.

However, it was quickly chased away by apprehension.

His eyes and rested on Haruka. If her looks had only briefly caught his attention, that would be one thing. But what if he had more sinister intentions? What if he resorted to violence?

But the confidence it would take for Makoto to stand up and defend her—that would be impossible.

He could do nothing if she were to be assaulted.

He felt a wave of nausea.

In the past, he had not understood this sick feeling. If he worried about Haruka getting roughed up by other boys or getting seriously hurt, this same sensation would form. Now, he knew why. His affections for her were tied into his very guts. People used to think such emotions came from the heart, but it seemed to him that they were actually rooted in the stomach.

It took a while for the nausea to subside.

This'll be on the news tonight, won't it?

Other voices muttered in agreement.

As disrespectful to Masahiro as it felt to think about, they were sure that the incident would indeed make the evening news. If there was a quick-thinking student among them, there could already be footage online.

An hour had passed since the man burst into the room. Initially, the students were paralyzed with fear, but once they realized that the man was not reacting to the girls' hushed whispers, they began to talk more freely. Come to think of it, the man never told them to be quiet like bad guys in movies always did.

As long as no one tried to resist or escape, it seemed he had no intention of harming them. Since corralling the students to the back of the classroom, all he had done was turn off all the gas burners on the desks.

Makoto wondered why the man was not checking for their cell phones and making everyone get rid of them. If he failed to do so, someone was bound to get in touch with the outside world.

As Makoto pondered, Haruka whispered in his ear.

Hey, Makoto, what do you think is going on?

Haruka had stopped emitting her fear. Her face was now filled with curiosity, not terror.

A slight shiver ran down his spine. Their faces had never been so close before.

Could they be . . . terrorists?

Terrorists?

She repeated his words, her voice filled with disbelief.

I know, they're not dressed like the typical terrorists.

Makoto immediately regretted his statement without much thought.

The foreign terrorists they usually saw on the world news were clad in shabby street clothes, their faces covered by sunglasses or hoods, waving around grimy guns and radiating an air of zealous devotion to the motherland.

The man standing before them bore an uncanny resemblance to some type of tactical espionage character, Solid Snake. The way he carried himself made him seem like he had no interest in anything beyond his duty. Even when he killed Masahiro his demeanor had remained unaltered. He stood in the center of the science classroom, decked in the latest gear, an image of invincibility.

Makoto spoke softly.

Haruka, can you use your power to read his mind?

No way. I told you before, my power level is just over a thousand. I can barely even transmit my own thoughts. I'd need ten times the power to do read him from this far away.

Oh . . .

Makoto nodded. He thought that if they could figure out who the man was, they would have a chance at figuring out what his plans were. He pondered over what might happen to them and whether his family knew what was going on.

I hope Mom's okay . . .

The words slipped out before he could stop them. Makoto's mother was somewhat depressed. His father had told him it was because of the Great Heisei Earthquake. What would happen if she learned that a gun-wielding man had invaded her son's school?

Makoto caught himself and tried to check Haruka's reaction without her noticing.

Whether she had heard him or not, he could not say.

He thought he had messed up. He made it a point not to discuss parents around Haruka.

Haruka's biological parents had perished shortly after her birth during the earthquake. The quake reduced the hospital where she was born to rubble. Both her new mother and father fell victim, leaving Haruka, a newborn, the only survivor. The earthquake produced numerous orphans, most of whom lived with foster families. Haruka was one of them. She was adopted by a fairly affluent foster family. In fact, up until the previous year, Haruka had believed that her foster parents were her real ones. When she turned thirteen, as per the law, she was told they were her foster parents. The revelation shocked her, and she confided in Makoto. Since learning the truth, she had been sensitive about all matters involving parents.

I've got to be more careful.

Makoto scratched his head as he scanned around the room.

The other students whispered among themselves. The man, seemingly undeterred, touched his earpiece, continuing a conversation with someone. A familiar device was strapped to his wrist. It looked like an oversized wristwatch, but instead of a dial, there was a red, gem-like object.

That device is for measuring psychic powers.

Makoto identified it instantly. For someone who had been subjected to tests checking for psychic powers twice a year since elementary school as part of routine health check-ups, it was an all-too-familiar piece of equipment.

In a world where people with psychic powers faced discrimination, this device was engineered to detect psychokinetics and telepaths. Inside the prototype's thick acrylic glass were plant cells that reacted proportionally to the intensity of psychic power they were exposed to. Makoto remembered a book saying that these cells came from a strain of deep-sea algae that was resistant to physical duress but susceptible to psychic duress. Under normal circumstances, the fluid within the glass would be red, as it was now. However, it would turn clear when bombarded with potent psychic waves—the stronger the psychic power, the clearer the fluid would become. The level of one's psychic powers could be measured this way.

Makoto had taken the test a dozen times and never shown a hint of psychic power. This past spring he had scored a thirteen, where a score over a hundred was required to qualify as superhuman. He was entirely ordinary.

The wail of a police siren echoed from outside the window. Distant at first, it steadily grew closer and closer.

They finally showed up.

Soon other sirens joined the chorus, ambulances and fire trucks. The air was suddenly alive.

Gunfire suddenly rang out, added chilling accents to the cacophony of sirens. It was clear that more masked men had invaded the other classrooms.

The science room fell silent once more, with only the sirens outside filling the void.

Haruka spoke to Makoto in a suppressed voice.

Hey, what if we all attacked at once?

Makoto was caught off guard by her bold suggestion. He had assumed most girls would cower in the corner in such a situation.

Haruka's brows furrowed, and sweat gathered at the corners of her forehead. Makoto could feel fear emanating from her. He did not respond immediately, trying to make sure that his own feelings weren't influenced by Haruka's.

I'm okay, I'm not as scared as she is. I still have a clear head.

Not a good idea. This isn't like the movies, we only live once.

Y-Yeah, you're right. Sorry.

A blush formed across her white cheeks.

Yes, he thought to himself, better not.

In reality, if he had not witnessed Masahiro getting killed trying to escape through the window, he might have thought the same. Masahiro's actions were possible because he had been thinking about such a situation on a daily basis. Makoto himself had lost count of how many times he had imagined a terrorist breaking into the classroom. But when the real deal came crashing in, he froze. Masahiro had not, and he was shot dead for it.

The masked man had once been a junior high school student himself, so it was probably safe to assume that he could guess what junior high schoolers were thinking. Makoto tried to keep this in mind.

Haruka kept her head lowered for a moment, but then looked up as if she had hit on something. She whispered into Makoto's ear.

But, some of us are pretty powerful—

Before she could finish, a student at the edge of the room stood up, shouting.

Don't move!

The student extended his finger like a gun, aiming at the man.

It was Tatsunobu Kimoto. He was known for being one of the quiet ones, but he was also able to conjure one of the strongest Rayguns. Rayguns were fairly common, and there were a few dozen psychokinetics in school who could do it—shooting a ball of psychic energy, that is—but Tatsunobu's power level was nearly eight hundred. If he managed to hit the man, he could knock him out. His finger trembled. Hop and worry swirled inside Makoto.

Don't move! Let go of your gun!

The man, seemingly complying with Tatsunobu's demands, released his gun, but then he pointed his own right index finger straight at Tatsunobu.

I said don't move!

These were Tatsunobu's last words.

Without uttering a word, the man fired an intense red light from his fingertip.

The light pierced through Tatsunobu's chest near his heart, exited his back, and blew a hole straight through the wall to the outside. Tatsunobu's body collapsed limply onto the girl sitting next to him. Screams erupted. Not a single drop of blood fell from the massive hole in Tatsunobu's chest.

I shouldn't have to keep saying this, don't move unless I say so.

He spoke in exactly the same tone as he had used when he first burst into the classroom.

The students stayed frozen in their places. Haruka sat next to Makoto, staring at the now silent Tatsunobu. Standing up to this man was too dangerous. Her face showed she knew it now too.

The man pulled out a handheld computer from behind his back and started to look something up.

Someone gasped and the sound unsettled the class.

Understanding they would not be killed for making noises, some of the girls started to sob uncontrollably, crying out Tatsunobu's name. A boy threw up on the floor, the stench assaulting everyone's noses.

Haruka rubbed her bare arms exposed by her summer uniform like she was cold. She rubbed them over and over, goosebumps visible on her delicate skin. Blinking relentlessly, she whispered.

Th-That, what just happened . . . it was like something from Seven Dragons. I've never seen such powerful psychokinesis before.

It was Icer's Death Gun.

The Death Gun was the signature move of a villain in the TV show Seven Dragons.

Makoto was astounded, not just by the man's formidable psychic ability, but also just that he had used a move from a video game. If that was really inspired by the Death Gun, then the man was probably relatively young.

The nature of the power one developed was determined by what influenced them psychologically during their early childhood.

Many of the first generation of psychics acquired signature moves from a comic called Ninja that was popular then. In fact, the first psychic power to manifest in Japan was the Kienmaru. A grade schooler pretended to do the Kienmaru, and accidentally manifested it, crushing a classmate's ribs. This was the first ever recorded psychic incident in Japan.

The second generation was heavily influenced by reruns of Seven Dragons, while the third generation that included Makoto and his class was shaped by the remake of Ghost Chronicles.

By this gauge, the intruder standing before them would likely be in his early twenties, just about ten years older than them.

Although the man's face was largely hidden behind a mask, with only his eyes exposed, he radiated a formidable aura, like a martial artist who had honed his skills over several decades. He seemed to combine a surgeon-like calm with the ruthlessness of a pro wrestler.

How does someone in their twenties end up like that?

As Makoto stared at the plastic floor tiles, he was struck by his own calmness.

It would not be unusual to slip into a panic in such extraordinary circumstances.

But then again, the idea of falling into a convulsive fit just because someone died did seem a bit bizarre. In movies, characters wailed and grieved when someone died, but that was usually because it was their friend. They probably would not get too sentimental if a stranger died. Did that mean those two boys were as good as strangers to Makoto?

He straightened his usually slouched posture and surveyed the lab.

His classmates seemed fairly calm, given that in a little more than an hour two of their peers had died. Perhaps it was because Masahiro and Tatsunobu were somewhat loners in the class. Only traces of fear remained on the boys' faces, while the girls had all ceased crying, with only a few of the more timid among them still sniveling.

Perhaps none of them had ever considered those two as friends. Their deaths were a huge shock, without a doubt, but that was all. It was no different than witnessing someone jumping in front of the train on the way to school. The girls who were still upset were probably just scared that they might be next.

If I died, who would cry for me? My mom, dad, my sister Miki—they probably would. What about Haruka?

Makoto glanced at Haruka next to him. She was looking down, staring at a single point on the floor, just like he had been a moment ago. Most of their classmates were doing the same, heads bowed.

Do people naturally just slip into such a prayer-like posture when someone dies?

Then Makoto realized why they were sat like that.

It was because if they looked up, they would see it.

Tatsunobu's corpse had rolled to the center of the room. Everyone had tried to get as far away from the body as possible, making an absurd circle with Tatsunobu at the center. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, the confident expression he had when he confronted the man frozen on his face. His mouth was slightly open, as if he wanted to say something. There was a black hole in his chest. No blood flowed, as if it was actually just a mannequin of Tatsunobu that was lying there.

Makoto felt a chill run along his back. His gaze dropped like the rest of his classmates.

I get it now.

A loud voice sounded from behind Makoto.

It was Ryohei Kitajima, the class leader. Big, brash, and a powerful psychokinetic, his voice alone made another boys jittery.

Could you maybe lower your voice a bit . . . ?

Shut up. It's already so noisy, he can't hear me.

In just a short while, the collection of police vehicles continuing to gather outside the broken windows had created a barrage of noise. More first responder vehicles seemed to be assembling around the school. Sirens, helicopter rotors, loudspeaker instructions for evacuation, all alongside the ever-present hum of cicadas.

That dude is definitely a terrorist.

Ryohei's thoughts echoed what Makoto had whispered to Haruka earlier.

I agree with Ryo. He must be.

The class's head girl, Reiko Tsuta, nodded in agreement. As Ryohei's girlfriend, she always agreed with his ideas—admiring everything he said like it was her job.

Ryohei reiterated his previous assertion.

Yup. There's no doubt. He smells like one too.

He seemed full of confidence.

Of course you're confident about it, just loudly repeating what you heard me say earlier like you thought it up yourself.

Ryohei was that kind of guy, always passing off other peoples' ideas as his own.

While most of the classmates knew that these ideas did not originate from him, no one ever spoke up about it because of how violent he could get. Such was the unspoken rule of Class 2-5.

Makoto could see Yoshinobu Ichiba, one of Ryohei's goons, doing something with his cell phone. Like Ryohei, Yoshinobu was in the judo club. He did not have Ryohei's physique, however, looking more like the liberal arts type. Despite being slender and scholarly-looking, his eyebrows were trimmed so short as to almost disappear. It was as if he had trouble making up his mind about what quirks he wanted.

Bringing a cell phone to school was against the rules, but Yoshinobu seemed to have disregarded that. Perhaps he intended to browse some school gossip site during class.

Yoshinobu addressed the group with a smug look on his face.

Check out what I just found in the news!

Makoto had trouble seeing Yoshinobu's phone screen from where he was sitting, but Ryohei grabbed the phone and read it aloud for everyone.

Everyone, the JSDF is coming to get us! They found out that some of these guys are psychics, so they're sending the Psychic Corps from Ichigaya!

Ryohei looked triumphant, as if he was part of the JSDF rescue team himself.

His booming voice set Makoto on edge.

Can't he see the man standing just a few meters away? No matter the noise outside, he's being far too loud.

The man did not even glance at the cellphone in Ryohei's hand, his attention was solely on his own device's screen.

Haruka exhaled a sigh of relief.

Thank God, right Makoto? We just might make it.

Yeah, thank God the JSDF are coming. We might even get to watch this on the news tonight.

One can only hope.

Knowing that the one and only Psychic Corps was on the way was comforting, but what would happen once they got here? These guys were psychics too. Ryohei must have overheard Makoto and Haruka talking, because he suddenly turned to him.

Nah. No way, Makoto. Don't be so sure they'll save us.

Despite being so happy about the JSDF coming to the rescue just a second ago, Ryohei seemed to have changed his tune upon hearing Makoto trying to comfort Haruka.

We will be alright if the JSDF are coming.

After all, why else would he do such a thing except to try to make Makoto appear foolish?

All eyes landed on Makoto.

Ryohei's eyes narrowed with satisfaction.

Makoto shrugged.

Well I don't know. Maybe they will, maybe they won't. It's all a hunch.

Damn you. Make up your damn mind!

With that, Ryohei turned back to the group, this time lowering his voice.

Listen up. If you ask me, if we just sit here, waiting for the JSDF to come hold our hands, we're all gonna wind up in body bags. Look, this dude's just chatting on his communicator there, so I say we go smash his face in.

Haruka touched Makoto's shoulder.

Don't let him get to you, Makoto.

Nah, I'm not bothered. Ryohei might even be right.

But Makoto was indeed bothered.

He bit his tongue, the faint taste of blood filling his mouth. It was a habit he had since that time he nearly drowned; he would bite his tongue when he got stressed. Makoto winced at the pain.

Lately, Ryohei had been unusually antagonistic towards Makoto.

The reason for this was Haruka.

A few months ago, Makoto and his classmates were all using an unofficial school website, and there was a post that said:

Ryohei asked out Haruka, and she shot him down.

The cherry on top was that on the post, somebody commented:

Haruka probably just rejected him because she likes Makoto.

However, that was far from the truth. It was unlikely for Haruka to have a crush on Makoto.

Haruka was a high-level telepath, but she could not control her abilities very well, which meant that sometimes her thoughts got leaked out to the people around her. Makoto had felt this a few times. This was how Makoto learned that Ryohei had indeed asked Haruka out and got turned down, and at the same time that he learned that Haruka saw Makoto as nothing more than a friend.

Ryohei was always chasing the girls at school, even dating more than one at a time, but Haruka was without a doubt the cutest. This, plus the fact that the only reason anyone knew about his rejection was because it had come pouring out of Haruka herself was doubly embarrassing for him. On top of that, the idea of some other guy winning over Haruka where he had failed was simply unbearable. Of course, Ryohei would definitely use any means to sabotage such a rival.

Currently, the one closest to Haruka was Makoto.

Makoto, although very different from Ryohei, held a strong presence in the class. His grades were among the best in the class, plus he was articulate. Among the students who actually paid attention in class, he was a core figure. In Minato City 22nd Junior High School, students without psychic powers were usually less popular, but Makoto was well-liked despite being ordinary. Had he actually possessed any powers, he might have even been the class leader over Ryohei.

Haruka was generally reserved and hard-working, but her appearance did not exactly match her personality. Despite only being in her second year of junior high, she was nearly 165 centimeters tall and had a well-developed figure. Unlike other girls who wore heavy makeup, she favored a more natural look. Her psychic power rating was 1203, the highest in the entire grade.

Beyond being friends since elementary school, another reason they were so close is because Makoto and Haruka sat next to each other in class. When the water tank from the school roof came crashing in, she had nearly died, the tank only narrowly missing her head. She was shaken to the core but Makoto somehow managed to calm her down. Their bond grew even stronger from that.

Of course none of that sat well with Ryohei, who made himself even more of a nuisance to Makoto.

Seriously, why the heck did that knife have to break?

Makoto could not believe it—how Ryohei had avoided being stabbed by that boy he had been tormenting. If the knife had not snapped, Ryohei would have certainly landed in the hospital, if not the morgue. It was like Haruka with the water tank. Makoto thought those with psychic powers must be inherently lucky. He wished that Haruka was the only lucky one.

While Makoto was brooding, the conversation with Ryohei and the others seemed to be heating up. Every now and then, fragments of their discussion floated to Makoto's ears.

While you're keeping him busy, I'll take him down with my Raygun. Easy peasy.

It was Ryohei. Makoto saw a girl with her back turned to him nod. He then saw that it was Reiko.

Three other boys—Yoshinobu, Yamahata, and Nitta—were with them. Yoshinobu was rapidly working on his cell phone while nodding along. It looked like he was sending a message to somebody.

Haruka, looking uneasy, nudged Makoto's shoulder.

Hey, is this gonna work? What if something goes wrong?

Makoto shrugged.

Let's just wait and see. Don't worry, Ryohei gets things done when he has to.

There's no way this works, Makoto thought, but I can't tell her what I really think, she's already freaking out. But you never know, Ryohei has powers, and there's talk that Reiko does too. There's still hope.

Makoto watched the man posted in the center of the science room. The man was still communicating with someone on his radio and checking something on his handheld computer.

All the while, he was clearly watching them out of the corner of his eye. Makoto had a strong feeling that if they made even the slightest suspicious move, terrible fangs would be brought to bear on them. In reality, this man was more dangerous than any lion or tiger, and Makoto could not help but watch his every move. The thought of him suddenly striking out with his claws made Makoto's balls shrivel.

Regardless of what happens with Ryohei, I need to protect Haruka no matter what.

Makoto steadied his resolve.

Suddenly, gunshots and screams came from outside the window, startling the classmates.

The gunshots sounded more subdued than than in the movies. Warm air creeped in through where the glass used to be while the air conditioner continued to roar, trying in vain to counter it. A faint smell of ammonia lingered. The Death Gun had blown a hole in the wall, destroying a small shelf of chemicals at the back of the science room.

The gunshots ceased almost immediately, and sounds of helicopters circling in the sky, fire trucks, and police sirens returned.

Everyone besides those in Ryohei's group were huddled in small clusters.

Near Makoto and Haruka were Masahiro Fuoka and Yuichi Yagi. Masahiro was a quiet, skinny boy who loved books. His buddy Yuichi was of medium height and played baseball. Masahiro spoke to Makoto quietly.

Hey, Makoto, take a look at this.

Yeah, have a look-see.

Yuichi chimed in, his unique country accent noticeable.

Masahiro was holding the latest cutting-edge cell phone in his hand.

Looking at the screen, Makoto saw images from a breaking news broadcast of his own Minato City 22nd Junior High School. The popular woman anchor from the morning news was leaning out of a helicopter, shouting something.

It seemed that just like Yoshinobu, Masahiro had also snuck in his cell phone. Truth be told, Makoto's phone was also tucked in his bag in classroom 2-5 with the power switched off.

Makoto could not help wondering again why the intruder had not confiscated their phones.

As Masahiro jammed an earphone into Makoto's ear, the reporter's urgent voice came ringing through.

I repeat: according to what we know right now, the terrorist group occupying the school identifies themselves as the Coalition for the Safeguarding of Ordinary Humans. They emerged around 2020, when the pressure of Japan's declining population exceeded the threshold for triggering psychic powers and psychically-abled children started being born. The group has commited discriminatory acts against people with psychic power under the pretense of protecting those without. At one point, they were conducting violent campaigns in various Asian countries, but their activities then slowed down and they were declared dissolved three years ago. However, according to police investigations, they seem to have recommenced their activities, having evolved into an even more brutal organization. If this information is accurate, and the terrorist group is indeed the the Coalition for the Safeguarding of Ordinary Humans, the safety of students with psychic abilities is a grave concern.

At present, the police have surrounded the area and the JSDF soldiers are preparing to intervene. However, keeping the safety of the students in mind, it's believed that they are unable to break the doors down and rush in. For now, authorities will be focusing on peaceful negotiations.

Are they really terrorists?

The view of the school on his cellphone was from the air. The camera zoomed in, going from showing a view of the whole school to just showing the classrooms on the fourth floor. The camera panned across each classroom from left to right.

Class 1-6, 1-5, 1-4; even on the small cellphone screen, it was easy to see inside each class. Inside every one there was one or two terrorists in special forces gear with automatic rifles in hand. Dozens of ropes, presumably used for their infiltration, dangled against the school walls, swaying in the wind. The camera then shifted to class 1-1, the hallway, the stairs, and finally settled on the science lab where Makoto and his classmates were holed up. The school building started getting smaller again until it was replaced by the reporter's face.

Nice screen resolution. You can see everything so clearly.

At some point, Haruka had started looking over Makoto's shoulder.

Masahiro smiled at her comment.

Indeed, they just got a thorough overview of the situation thanks to that footage.

Almost too clear.

Just as this thought crossed Makoto's mind, the terrorist in the middle of the room moved.

They looked away from the screen to watch him.

The terrorist went swiftly to the window and grabbed the curtain hanging there.

Makoto glanced back to the phone. He watched the terrorists in each classroom move to the windows and draw the curtains.

The man was quickly doing the same. He untied the curtains and slid them along the rail until the natural light was snuffed out, leaving only the artificial glow of the fluorescent lights. The noise from outside was slightly dulled. The news reporter on the phone expressed her disappointment.

The terrorists have drawn all the curtains. We can no longer see what's happening inside.

Haruka let out a frustrated sigh. Perhaps aware that she might be more easily overheard now that there was less noise from outside, she lowered her voice.

Why the heck are they saying all this on TV? If they show it to the world then of course the bad guys will know they're being watched.

She bit her lower lip hard.

For the time being, Haruka seemed to be controlling her telepathy just fine, Makoto could not tell what she was thinking.