The Letter Opener

Arata instinctively turned to the front of the class, hoping for some kind of instruction.

Miss Millen was clutching her head, muttering something in Churchin, the language of the west. Arata wasn’t fluent, but it didn’t matter. She was clearly too shaken by the vision to comfort anyone.

Toma had already whipped out his pocket screen and was typing like mad.

He wasn’t the only one. At least half a dozen others were glued to their own devices, probably checking communal media or messaging their parents.

The rest of the class was falling to pieces.

Some students trembled in silence. Others whispered frantically to their neighbors.

Arata stole a glance at Hana.

He hadn’t thought it was possible for her to look more anxious than she had at the start of the lesson. But clearly, he was wrong. She was chewing her lip and bouncing her leg in a nervous rhythm.

Arata suddenly remembered the vision, and her tear-streaked face inching closer to him. He blushed and looked away. This wasn’t the time.

A sudden shout silenced everyone.

“We’re all gonna die!”

It came from the front. Koda, a gangly kid from the model-building club. Arata had never really hung out with him, but he seemed good-natured. Now the guy was hyperventilating, panic spreading across his face.

The class erupted.

Tables scraped. Someone knocked over a chair. Arata couldn’t even make anything out over the din.

Hana stood up abruptly, donning her familiar class rep expression, sharp and determined. It was clear that despite everything, she saw it as her duty to get things under control. 

“E-Everyone, calm do—”

A loud, barking laugh cut her off.

“Don’t piss yourself, Koda!”

This time the voice came from the back.

Arata turned slowly, a knot of dread tightening in his chest.

Danza.

Arata had always pegged Danza as a bit of a thug, and if the rumors were true, that wasn’t far off. Word had it that the gang he hung around was behind a stabbing last year.

Danza shoved past the stunned students and strode straight to the front row, towering over Koda.

“You didn’t actually believe that crap, did you? It’s gotta be a trick. A hoax or somethin’!”

Arata wasn’t surprised some would be in denial over what they’d just witnessed.

He himself was trying not to dwell on the collapsing buildings, the smell of ash, and all those screams. Just remembering it brought back that suffocating feeling. 

Koda didn’t answer. He just stared ahead, trembling.

Danza grabbed him by the scruff and raised his knuckles.

“Don’t blank me!” There was an odd twang of desperation in his voice. Like he needed Koda to agree with him.

Hana dashed forward.

“Let him go!” she shouted, grabbing Danza’s arm.

“Back off, bitch, this has nothing to do with you.”

Danza shot her a leer, eyes raking her from head to toe.

Arata’s jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists.

To Hana’s credit, she wasn’t cowed in the slightest. Her expression betrayed some nervousness, but she remained firm.

“This is getting ugly,” Toma whispered to Arata. “We should step in before he actually takes a swing at her.”

Arata admired his friend’s newfound chivalry. But Danza was massive. Even together, they’d be lucky to escape without a trip to the hospital.

He glanced back at Miss Millen, praying she’d step in.

But she was still frozen and glassy-eyed, her dark skin much paler than he had ever seen it. It was strange. She was even more out of it than the rest of them.

Arata looked around, desperate for a way to de-escalate things before they went too far.

Then he saw it.

The fire alarm.

He sprinted across the room, his father’s ring swinging from his neck. He took a deep breath and slammed his fist into the glass.

There was a sharp crack. Pain shot through his wrist, and a deafening blare filled the school, loud enough to jolt everyone in the class out of their reverie.

Miss Millen blinked hard, then stood up.

“Everyone, please proceed to the assembly courtyard!”

Danza let go of Koda with a grunt and practically shoulder-checked Hana on his way to the door.

Koda stayed still for a moment, then slowly rose to his feet and shuffled out, face blank and muttering.

“It’s… all over…”

As he passed her, Hana gave him a quiet look of pity, her lips taut.

Arata let out a shaky breath as he inspected his wrist. There was only a minor cut, thankfully. He wiped off the blood and started to follow the others out.

Miss Millen was looking at him with a shrewd expression. 

“Hana, as our representative, would you please go to the headmaster’s office,” she called. “Explain to him that a member of our class triggered the alarm to prevent a full-blown panic.”

“I’ll go with her,” Arata said quickly. “I’m the one who pulled it, so… it only makes sense.”

Miss Millen nodded, and they made to leave together.

Toma trailed after them, slipping his blazer on for once. Miss Millen called out, but Arata heard him casually toss back a flimsy excuse.

“I’ll make sure they don’t get lost!”

The trio tried to keep up a quick and urgent pace as they navigated the chaotic hallway. 

A crush of panicked faces streamed in the opposite direction from them. They had to push through them, strafing between traumatized students and ducking past yelling teachers.

Arata kept his eyes ahead, focusing on Hana’s back as she cut through the crowd.

After a few more quick turns, they finally reached a quieter corridor. Their footsteps echoed on the tiles as they moved. Arata was working up a sweat.

“Thanks for hitting the alarm, Ara,” Hana said, still not looking at him. “That pig’s always been a bully. He’s even worse with girls. I bet he actually believes all that bad boy crap you see online.”

“It was nothing,” Arata said, his cheeks flushing. She hadn't called him 'Ara' in years.  “You had that guy under control anyway.”

“Yeah, that was badass, Hana,” Toma interjected, “I mean, damn. Cute and good in a crisis? I take it all back. I can’t think of a reason you’d still be single!”

Hana’s fist shot out, nailing him in the arm, hard.

“Ow.” Toma winced, grabbing his upper arm. “Alright, thanks for the reminder.”

“Jerk,” Hana muttered.

“I was trying to be sincere,” Toma said, rubbing his arm theatrically.

Hana looked away, but Arata thought he saw her cheeks turn the faintest tinge of pink.

As they passed various classrooms, where stragglers were still trying to file out, the tension started to spike again. There were students sobbing, teachers calling their loved ones, and papers and possessions littered on the floor, forgotten. 

“It really is everywhere. Everyone. They all saw it, too…” Toma said softly.

Arata had never seen the unflappable Toma even remotely shaken. The expression on his handsome face was almost as disturbing as the apocalyptic premonition itself. 

Arata took a deep breath. 

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the visions started to dominate his thoughts.

What could cause the world to end like that?

Who had spoken? Were those visions real?

Was it really God? Or something else?

Was that future set in stone, or could it be changed?

And if it couldn’t be averted… why show it at all?

There was something else gnawing at him.

Some parts of the vision felt more personal. Like they were from his perspective. Did others see those flashes? Or something similar?

He wanted to ask Toma and Hana, but it was clear his friends were avoiding the subject at the moment. It was too soon, too raw.

 Arata could feel a tightness near his chest. He stopped abruptly and grabbed a window pane. The others turned to regard him in concern. Panic was blurring his vision. He could see four people ahead of him. Two Hanas and two Tomas.

Slap.

He smacked both hands against his cheeks.

Toma gave him an understanding look.

“You okay, man?”

“No… but it is what it is,” Arata muttered.

Toma looked at Hana and shrugged. “We should really hurry and get the headmaster. Surprised he hasn’t made an announcement yet on the intercom. My dad always said people look to authority figures in a crisis.”

They continued walking and rounded the final corner.

The secretary’s desk was empty. She was probably in the staff room when the voice came.

They quickly went around the desk and approached the headmaster’s office. It was behind a large, traditional wooden door. Looming and intimidating.

Arata paused.

So did Toma.

Only Hana kept going.

Unlike them, she didn’t have any traumatic memories of being on the receiving end of the headmaster’s infamous lectures.

Arata was mostly well-behaved, but he had the unfortunate habit of catching up on sleep during class. And Toma was Toma. Hesitating at the door was natural for them.

Oblivious to the boys’ trepidation, Hana gripped the handle and pushed it open.

The door creaked.

The office was dark, the blinds were drawn.

There was a dim light from the hallway behind them, but all it did was cast their three long shadows on the wall opposite. It was eerie.

The air was still and thick with the scent of ink, old books, and stale coffee. Arata was certain the place was deserted and was about to say as much to the others when he noticed the headmaster.

Mr. Okasei sat hunched at his desk, hands pressed to his temples. He was as still as a statue.

If it weren’t for their eyes adjusting to the dark, no one would’ve ever noticed him. His face was pale and gaunt. 

Arata’s breath caught as the realization struck him. How could he have forgotten? He saw this. Okasei… at his desk…

His lips were moving.

At first, Arata thought he was shivering. But no. He was whispering.

Or… chanting.

The words were low, almost impossible to make out. But as they inched closer, they grew clearer.

“Form is emptiness. Emptiness is form… All things are impermanent…”

It was a sutra-prayer.

Okasei’s eyes were glassy and vacant. He was practically staring straight through them. His hands were cradling a leather-bound book.

A Samsaric Bible.

Like most schools in the country, theirs was secular, but Arata wasn’t surprised to see the old man had a copy in his vast collection. Most households had one.

Still, something about the way the old man clutched it made his skin crawl.

Okasei was known for being stern, pragmatic, and detached. An ex-army man who lived to lecture students about duty and responsibility. 

He was the last person anyone would expect to crack under pressure. Just like Miss Millen.

Did that voice affect the adults more?

"Sins tether the soul like an anchor tethers a ship," the headmaster whispered. "My life… was a waste."

Arata found himself grabbing his father’s ring as it rested on his chest. He squeezed it nervously as he spoke up.

"Sir? Are you okay?”

The old man flinched violently, like he had only just realized they were there. Toma and Hana stood on either side of Arata, exchanging uneasy glances.

Mr. Okasei's eyes seemed to come into focus slightly after a moment. “Ah… hello, children. Would you mind stepping outside? I have some business to attend to in here.” His eyes dropped to the desk, a guilty expression on his face.

Arata followed his line of sight. There was a glint of silver. 

It was a letter opener.

Thin. Sharp. Deadly.

Understanding hit Arata like a truck.

In the vision, Okasei had something shiny pressed to his throat. Now he knew what it was, and what the headmaster was about to do.

His chest tightened. He had to stop this. He had to say something. Anything.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His mind was blank. Time was running out, and Arata was frozen.