Atrocities

POV – Natsuki

Mikami and I exchanged a glance. No one had said a word since Preacher left.Mikami stepped toward Louis and looked him directly in the eyes without a word, and he did the same.

Mikami reached out toward him, imperious."Louis. The gloves."

Louis muttered something under his breath and tossed the box at her chest. A brand new box, clearly never opened. He clicked his tongue.

"Tsk. Take them and do what you have to do."

(The way they talked was like watching two walls try to make small talk…)

She grabbed the box, opened it, and slipped on the gloves with precise movements. 

Then she approached the police officer already crouched over the victim and knelt down to his level.

"Do you have any leads on the cause of death?"

The officer nodded.

"Blunt force trauma to the skull."

A single nod from Mikami. She began the examination. Her hand slid slowly toward the victim's neck.

 Her eyes narrowed.

"Strange… His neck was also broken."She said it in the same tone one uses to talk about the weather.(It's your calm in the face of this that's truly strange, Mikami…)

She carefully lifted the ropes still binding the corpse's wrists. Deep marks ran all the way around them.

"He struggled until the very end. Even while tied up."Okina exhaled slowly."…That confirms everything Preacher told us."

I glanced at the body. It was brutal to look at. The kind of thing the brain instinctively tries to erase.

Louis brushed a strand of hair aside with a nonchalant gesture."It all becomes obvious, doesn't it? Preacher is our culprit. No need to look any further."

He crossed his arms, the posture of a judge awaiting a verdict. A question burned in my throat — an inconsistency I couldn't ignore.

 How had she known about all Of that without even getting close?

"And what makes you so certain?" Okina cut in, her voice trembling.

Louis didn't answer right away. He simply stared at Okina with such intensity that she eventually looked away, crushed by his presence.

"You really want me to spell out the obvious?" His voice was low, almost contemptuous.

"My point is simple. Preacher could never have known that detail without having examined the body up close."

— So we have three options.

He raised one finger.

"Either Preacher was there before anyone else."

Second finger."Either she knew the killer."

Third finger."Or she is  the killer."Three options. Each one as damning as the last.

"Given the thoughtful look you had earlier, I'd assume we were both thinking the same thing."

Okina and I exchanged a lost glance.

"…I was talking about you, Tanaka."His gaze landed on me. I startled slightly.(Of course. Obviously it was me.)

"It's true that her deductions were precise…" I admitted.

— But before accusing her, maybe we should consider that her mask gives her a perceptual advantage we don't have.

A silence. Louis let out a dry, joyless laugh. He looked down at me as if I were a disappointing puzzle.

"…That's not the answer I was expecting."

He paused."Even if the fact that she hides behind a mask is suspicious in itself."

Louis pointed an accusing finger at me."The conclusion remains the same ... Preacher is one of the prime suspects. Keep your illusions if it helps you sleep at night."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked toward the door, leaving us alone with our doubts.

Mikami resumed the autopsy with a precision that had nothing of a normal teenager about it.

 This was the second time I'd watched her do this — and it wasn't getting any more reassuring.

She closed her eyes for a moment. Then:"The killer is someone strong. And fast. Causing a skull fracture and breaking the neck…"

She paused.

"…And managing to catch Fukuda. According to his records, he was the fastest runner in the school."(Someone strong. Someone fast. That profile matched a lot of people here.)

"Could you help me turn the body over, officer?"

He nodded. Together, they rolled the body onto its stomach. Mikami leaned in and ran a finger along the spine.

Okina went pale."Impressive… Even his spine was displaced.""What's impressive about that?!" Okina breathed, a cold sweat on the back of her neck.

Mikami didn't answer right away."…I simply meant that this killer possesses almost inhuman strength."(Almost inhuman. Very reassuring, Mikami. Truly.)

My eyes traveled over the body from head to toe — and then I saw it. A tiny detail, barely visible, buried beneath the hair.

"Mikami. Look at the nape of his neck. There's something sticking out."She complied without a word, parting the hair with surprising delicacy.

Okina moved closer to me.

"What did you see?""I don't know yet. I hope it's my imagination."

Mikami straightened up slowly. She was holding something between her fingers."…It's a splinter."Bloodied.

The officer rubbed the back of his neck, looking completely dumbfounded.

"I wouldn't have thought kids could actually…"He spat the words out with poorly concealed disgust, gesturing at the surroundings.

— The splinter was lodged in the cranial bone. No wood on this concrete rooftop. No trees. No benches. Nothing but grey.

The cop let out a sharp whistle, a piercing sound that drilled into my eardrums.

"You get it now, geniuses? If the wood isn't here, then the wood is the weapon."

My gaze drifted to Fukuda's corpse. That small, bloodied sliver… it was the missing piece of the death puzzle.

Mikami snapped her gloves off with a sharp crack.

"Very well. Okina — you know what to do."

"Yep, don't worry~"

Okina pulled out her device and took a photo of the body. 

Information appeared on it instantly — name, age, classroom, rank in the Sakkaku system.

"Fukuda Akio. Room 1-C. Our age. Hunter class."

(Hunter… He was a predator. And yet he was slaughtered like common prey.)

She tucked the photo into her pocket.Mikami nodded.

"Alright. Both of you handle this. I'll take care of Hoiri's case."

We asked no questions.We left Mikami and the officer behind. The walk to room 1-C felt like it lasted an eternity.

 The school hallways, once loud and full of life, were nothing but a maze of open doors. Some people, it seemed, hadn't been afraid to leave after the principal's announcement.

— By the way, Natsuki… Okina murmured.— Hmm?

"Is it just me, or does the student council president look strangely like Mikami? Like a male version of her — white hair, but without the black streak…"

I shivered. She was right. That piercing gaze, capable of dissecting you without a trace of emotion… it was a family trait. The mark of predators.

"Yeah. The same way of looking at you like you're just an insect under a microscope," I replied quietly.

Okina let out a small nervous laugh, but it died the moment we reached the door to room 1-C. Unlike the others, this one was shut.I placed my hand on the handle. I pulled. Nothing. Locked.

"It's locked from the inside?" I said, surprised.

Okina didn't answer. She had frozen, ear pressed against the wood of the door. She signaled me to be quiet, her expression suddenly very serious.At first, all I heard was my own heartbeat pounding in my temples. Then a whisper. Then two.

"Do you… think he's really dead?""Are you serious?! Didn't you hear the principal's announcement?!""Shh! I heard something behind the door!"

Silence fell abruptly. They knew we were there. We knew they were there.

"Is anyone in there?" I called out, knocking on the wooden panel.

— It's Natsuki Tanaka. Open up!

No response. Just the sound of furniture being slowly dragged across the floor inside. They were barricading the door.

It was understandable — they had lost two classmates in a single day.

"They're scared," Okina whispered, eyes wide.

But of whom? Of us… or of whatever was hiding among us?

She turned to me, and for the first time, I saw a true glimmer of terror in her eyes.

"Natsuki… If the room was barricaded from the inside, how did Fukuda end up on the roof?"

"The only way to know is to ask them," I said simply.

Strange sounds spread through the room, and suddenly the door slid slightly to the right.

"That was pretty quick…""Natsuki, MOVE!"

Okina's scream tears through my eardrums, but it's too late. A shadow bursts from the darkness of the room.Blue-violet hair, a face twisted by pure rage, and the cold steel of a kitchen knife aimed at my throat.The intent to kill was plain in his eyes.I don't have time to step back. My muscles are lead. I close my eyes, bracing for the burn of the blade. So this is how it ends?…I open my eyes. The shock hits harder than any weapon could. Everything has frozen.Dust floats in the air, motionless. The guy with the knife is suspended a few centimetres from me, the veins in his neck bulging… but he's moving in slow motion, like a frame that's buffering.I can see every reflection on the blade. I can count his blinks.(What's happening to me…? Has my mind finally given out?)