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A rush of adrenaline reaches him through the chilling breeze.
This is it, he thinks, I can do it now.
Korosensei’s affirmation sends Karma reeling.
“Good. Then I can kill you.” He aims his gun at Korosensei.
Nagisa’s surprised blue eyes are the last thing he sees whilst upright, before he falls back into the air.
He can feel the wind pick up. It ruffles his hair back and forth while his hand remains outstretched.
He could put it down, though. Sensei will not save you.
His black cardigan flaps in the strong wind. It’s rendered useless; there are chills all over his body.
The wind howls with laughter, and so would he - if he could. No sound comes out.
At this moment is when he truly reflects on his life. But there isn’t much to begin with. Only lonely days, and nights and a few flickers of true… Happiness? If you could call it that. A flicker of content, brief satisfaction of where he was then, when someone paid attention.
One of the few people that come to mind is Ōno-Sensei. A rage briefly fills his body. He sees red - the clouds, the greying sky - all shades of crimson.
Karma thinks back to before his suspension. Ōno-Sensei was there. He thought that he had really cared - had really meant his words.
He didn’t.
Because no one ever does. Why would they?
And he should’ve known better, had realised that this care was completely conditional. It was fragile and-
And it was his fault that he broke it, so carelessly. All for beating up one kid, really?
In the end, he is always just something disposable - something that Ōno could use to raise his reputation. Look! I fixed this poor little delinquent boy! Now I’ll finally get a raise!
Now he’s sick of raising reputations.
So, why not destroy this teacher’s one?
Uh oh. I’m really going to die!
The urge to close his eyes is almost irresistible.
He’s been falling for a while now.
Giving into the temptation, he closes his eyes slowly, taking everything in for the last time. What a way to go.
The arm lowered, gun by his side.
If he hits the ground, he doesn’t feel it.
– –
Nagisa dashes forward, as if he could catch his former friend before it was too late. He can’t.
His eyes immediately call to Korosensei for help, to no avail, the hope fleeting from his eyes.
The octopus was only now extremely surreal, like when the class saw him for the first time. There was no new face. No eyes to widen or eyebrows to raise in shock. Just that permanently etched smile.
He could not move, which couldn't help but feel ironic. Despite the urgency, that’s all he could muse about. He, the super-creature that moved at Mach 20 stood stock still; could not move at all.
Nagisa felt his knees tremble, and he felt unsteady on his feet while his vision clouded. It was too much, as he fell unconscious.
Again, another student ‘Korosensei’ could not catch: couldn’t save.
But at the sudden thump next to him,he was reawakened to his numbed senses.
He sprung forward, not caring if he got shot. Deep down - in his subconscious - he knew he couldn’t have been. The boy had already hit the forest canopy by now.
The aerodynamics of his body had helped propel him ahead. There was no sign of the redhead student - his student.
The forest floor was damp, and Korosensei searched in a hysterical manner.
It was at this point where he - the honourable teacher; role model, became the Reaper again, wading in the blood of his victims. He hadn’t expected to take another life in this new profession, but he had done it again. A true monster.
He had let Aguri down.
She must be so disappointed. Are you watching me, darling..? I’m sorry. So sorry. I failed to take care of your students.
And then he found him.
It wasn’t the body itself, the corpse - no, he had seen too many lifeless bodies in his lifetime - that unsettled him. He was used to them, on the contrary.
It was the passive smile on the boy’s face and he could only think it was due to the peace that he had now granted himself. Due to the way he thought death was an escape.
How could anyone think like that, it was beyond him. Death wasn’t an escape, who are they kidding?
But to him, it was.. Nothing.
Death to him was never a new concept; he had killed the people who took him in, so guesses that that was an escape, but he didn’t harm himself, did he?
Death was, to put it simply, just the premise of what came eventually; crept up on you, slowly, an ending to the linear sequence to life.
But the sequence had only begun, and he had ruined it all.
And it was at this point where the Reaper was a little boy, a teen all over again, standing over someone’s dead body for the first time again.
He had sworn not to hurt anyone, let alone kill them. He was supposed to help them, teach them, but now he was a monster again.
It was his fault, because he didn’t move - was he too scared, or just saving himself?
The boy’s eyes were closed, a blissful expression. Red hair contrasted against the green grass, along with the stark juxtaposition of peace and the angry vermillion blood staining the ground.
Everything down here was still, in the stagnant air where no harsh winds could rough up the boy’s hair.
He maneuvered his monster body to kneel in the damp grass. His bloodhound senses could smell it, and the metallic, iron scent of the blood. He could almost taste it.
A glance down at his horrific tentacle. Could it be only used to harm? Was he really just that terrible? He guides it along the boy’s forehead and gently tidies the red hair into its usual style, like a small child.
In the stagnant air, everything also could settle down in his mind, instead of the whirlwind of thoughts and questions biting at his brain like an icy cold.. A dead student.
It was his fault.
And now he was in trouble, wasn’t he?
What does he do now? Say the student’s missing? Too repulsed by his Lovecraftian horror?
Ryushū picked him up carefully with these monstrous yellow tentacles. He hated them, his new arms and they were already marred with literal and metaphorical blood.
The boy was light in his tentacles, like a pillow. He wonders if he would’ve been able to catch him easier like this.
A shred of jet black catches one of his round eyes. The gun.
He picks it up. Suddenly, a thought strikes him. Maybe he can shoot himself right in the heart under his tie.
.. Kill himself? It’s not like anyone else could kill him now.
Aiming his gun directly under his tie with a third tentacle, on of his misshapen fingers put its weight on the trigger.
Click
Nothing happened.
Again, and again, and again. Click, click and another click. He pulls the trigger frantically.
It was empty.
– –
Tadaomi couldn’t believe his ears. The super creature had come to tell himself.
He could sense the unmistakable guilt in the octopus’ tone of voice that he blamed himself. But then again,
A boy. Someone who had a life ahead of him, and now..
Well, whose fault was it really? He thought about it all day. Or as much as he could. And now he had to arrange something.
He had to fix it.
Sitting in the dreary teacher’s lounge, he put his head in his hands. He hadn’t expected this to happen. It wasn’t in the briefings, at least not a suicide. Would he go with the regular protocol, not telling anyone and swearing the parents to secrecy or not telling them at all?
It was only a few days ago, when he had sat in the kid’s living room with his secretary Sonokawa, and the house looked so dead that he thought that telling the parents wouldn’t even matter at all.
And the blue-haired kid, Nagisa Shiota. He was there, and watched his friend fall to his death. Was there going to be compensation?
Knowing his department, most likely not. The Ministry of Defence didn’t deal with that, no service to help with the damage they’d done.
He hated this job sometimes, it was revolting, repulsing to see sobbing mothers and heartbroken fathers and confused toddlers yet not being able to do anything that could really help.
--
Nagisa stood halfway in the corridor. The classroom was loud as usual, they were oblivious. So was the weather, and the day itself. If it was dependent on how he felt, it would…
It wouldn't be stormy, that's for sure.
Because he didn't know what he felt. He felt more bad than sad, which caused him to riddle his conscious with guilt for not feeling truly upset, just only pity and confusion.
Is this what grief felt like?
He hadn't lost anyone before. His father, maybe, but he didn't really know him that well at all. His father was just.. there. Nagisa didn't mind. It's not like he could do anything about it.
Dead relatives, he never knew them anyway. They hated his mother as well, and he could see why (even though he never did himself).
The blue sky littered with puffs of clouds laughed at him, so did the Sun and cheerful chatter of his classmates. He didn't notice when his feet started carrying him across the hallway into the classroom, like he was relying on muscle memory.
How should he feel? They weren't friends, were they? Karma distanced himself so far that it was abundantly clear that he didn't want to be friends…
But suppose he did, and that's why he was friendlier. Maybe.
Not like it mattered now.
Karma, if you come back as a ghost, haunt me. I probably deserve-
"Nagisa-kun?" Kaede poked him on the shoulder gently. "Are you alright?"
"I- yeah." His tone fell towards the end of his one-word sentence.
"I wonder where's Karma today."
He couldn't say anything.
Not yet.