Sora stared at Aaron, her gaze empty and emotionless. He felt the weight of her stare, a physical pressure against his skin. Her eyes, dark and unblinking, bored into his, making his own darting glances feel frantic. She stood motionless, a statue in a pool of spreading crimson, the only movement the subtle tremor in her bloodied hands. The metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the air, thick and cloying. He could hear the distant, rhythmic thump of the school's ancient heating system, a dull counterpoint to the frantic beating of his own heart. She still gripped the knife, the smooth metal handle slick against her palm. A dark sense of relief washed over her. It was over. She hadn't been caught. But the fear of the higher-ups, the inevitable punishment, gnawed at the edges of her satisfaction.
She tilted her head, long black hair cascading over her shoulder, framing a face both beautiful and unsettling. A long moment of silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the distant ringing of the school bell, signaling the end of breakfast time. Then, her voice, soft and calm, cut through the silence.
"Well, well, well… what do we have here? A little boy who likes to spy on others, hmm?" Her voice dripped with a playful, mocking sarcasm.
She took a step closer, the blood on her bare feet leaving a gruesome trail on the pristine white tiles. The metallic tang of blood intensified, making his stomach churn. The knife glinted under the fluorescent lights, a sharp, menacing reflection. He stumbled backward, his heart pounding against his ribs. With every step she took forward, he took another back, his eyes darting nervously, searching for an escape route in the narrow hallway. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his palms slick with sweat.
"You shouldn't have seen that, you know… It's a shame. But don't worry. I can make it quick. Very quick and painless. Just like with that stupid cow…" Her voice, still soft, now held a chilling undertone. She gestured towards Miyuki's corpse with the knife, the casual movement a stark contrast to the reverence he expected. He saw Osana's lifeless form slumped against the metal doors, a dark stain spreading across the white tile beneath her. Tears pricked at his eyes. He hadn't been there to save her. A selfish thought flickered through his mind: *She could have helped me get my girlfriend.*
"I was going to be a good girl today," Sora continued, her voice laced with mockery. "But you've ruined that now, haven't you?" She closed the distance, the air thick with the coppery scent of blood. He was frozen, trapped between the lockers and her advancing form, the cool metal a stark contrast to the burning fear that coursed through him.
Her voice dropped, almost gentle, but with an undercurrent of pure, icy malice that made his skin crawl. Goosebumps erupted on his arms. This wasn't an anime anymore. This was real. This was a horror story.
"What should I do with you, I wonder…? Hmmm…" She tapped the knife against her cheek thoughtfully, the rhythmic tapping a counterpoint to the frantic thumping of his heart. He saw the blood smeared across her cheek, a macabre painting against her pale skin. Blood dripped from her chin, each drop echoing the beat of his racing pulse. She watched him, her cold, empty eyes assessing his every reaction. She heard no screams, only the ragged gasps of his breath. *Is he normal?* she wondered.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, and she gasped, the knife clattering to the floor. He flinched, clutching his chest, his breath catching in his throat. Then, a giggle, high-pitched and unsettling, broke the silence. She wasn't armed anymore, but the erratic shift in her demeanor was more terrifying than the knife.
"Oh, how silly of me!" she exclaimed, her voice now filled with a manic energy. "I know just what to do!" His blood ran cold. She closed the distance in a flash, her hands gripping his hips. He felt her touch, unexpected and unsettling, sending a shiver down his spine.
"I'll add you to the list too! Isn't that a wonderful idea, Senpai?" Her voice was a dark, playful purr. He gulped, his mouth dry. His phone vibrated in his pocket, Kevin's ringtone a jarring intrusion. He couldn't answer. A wave of déjà vu washed over him. He was being replaced. He didn't want to be the center of attention. He just wanted to disappear.