Disclaimer: I do not own Ansatsu Kyoushitsu. I own neither music nor lyrics of the song.

A/N: So, I promised I'd update my Assassination Classroom story next. Well, I don't. instead I'm uploading an one-shot, a songfic to be exact. It deals with self-harm and stuff, so trigger warning and all that stuff. I actually don't like the whole "Nagisa cuts himself"-genre, but the song is way too perfect to ignore the opportunity. The song is "Blute Aus" by Eisregen, taken off the album "Schlangensonne". I plan more songfics for different anime and stuff, most of the tracks will be probably brutal music. Well, tl;dr I guess, so enjoy!

Folge dem Pfad der Klinge
immer schon hast du den Stahl geliebt
hast deine Haut geritzt
und noch viel tiefer
dort hin wo der Schmerz obsiegt
Dein heißes Blut
pulsierend unter blasser Haut
der Zwang es zu seh'n und in seinem Glanz zu steh'n

Einmal warst du ins Messerspiel vertieft
so nah der Ohnmacht
hörst du die Stimme tief im Herzen
die durch die Klinge zu dir rief

Erzählte dir vom Klingengott
der dort im Untergrunde thront
wo all' das Blut zusammenfließt
das aus des Menschen Wunden schießt

Bist du würdig ihn zu treffen
jenen einen
der Religion ins Stahlwerk goss
der haust in jedem Messerstoß

Jetzt hast du endlich einen Weg
der dich fern ab des Menschseins führt
auch wenn es dir dann selber graust
steig hinab ins Wundenhaus
und blute aus
so blute aus
und blute aus
so blute aus

Heute ist Stichtag
fürs Rendezvous mit jenem Herrn
der Pfad zu ihm gespeist von Qual
die Eintrittskarte blanker Stahl
dein Atem bebt
doch ruhig führst du deine Klinge
schau was sie deinem Leib antut
geleitest sie durch Fleisch und Blut
geleitest sie durch Fleisch und Blut

Schnitt um Schnitt
bringt dich ihm näher
dein Körper glänzt im Todeslicht
bis etwas aus der Schale bricht
und sich wälzt in deinen Resten
steigt er dampfend aus dem Unterbauch
frisst deinen letzten Atemhauch
verlässt nun stolz das Wundenhaus
du blutest aus
muss alles raus
und blute aus
so blute aus

Nagisa took a deep yet shallow breath. His vision blurry, he stared down at his arm. A dozen fresh cuts was neatly arranged, blood oozing out of the fresh wounds. Numbing pain pulsed through his body as he grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding. Then he grabbed a cloth to clean the wounds and wrapped them in gauze. As the final step he wiped the blood of the edge and put the knife away.

When did this happen? Nagisa didn't know. He couldn't tell how it began, for all he knew was that there was solace in pain, something that eased his life and gave him a warm feeling. He knew it was wrong, of course. But was he really at fault? His life was dull, the little time that was filled with warmth everyday was when he was at school. This was his only refuge, where everybody accepted him, because no one knew who he really was, how he felt deep inside.

He sighed, finally calming down. Hoping that no blood would seep through his bandage, he laid down on his bed. After all, he lost enough blood to feel dizzy. Nagisa hoped he'd replenish enough blood, because he was sure he'd cut himself again in a close amount of time.

It was after dinner. He had taken a bath, bid his mother good night and went to bed; he didn't sleep, though. After he heard the lights in his mother's room go out, he stood up and slowly and cautiously opened his drawer, taking out the knife.

He looked down at his still bandaged arm. Nagisa knew, cutting his wrists or hands would be impossible, his friends would ask why he had cuts. His arms were also off limits, one freshly wounded, the other still healing. His only alternative was to slice the blade through the fair skin of his legs.

He pulled his shorts up; contemplating a little, he finally lowered the knife and swiftly cut a small, straight cut on his thigh. A sharp pain jolted up his leg, slowly dulled and fading. Blood dripped down his legs. Nagisa felt intoxicated, as well as a little nauseous and dizzy. His head was spinning, the world was tuned out; all that remained were the blade, the blood, the pain.

Eagerly he placed cut after cut until his legs became numb. He breathed heavily, nearly losing consciousness. However, his clouded mind never had felt such a joy and high! Nagisa knew, nothing could replace this.

Following this incident, Nagisa lost the last shred of self-control. Every inch of his skin was scarred, the crimson cuts highlighted on the pale skin. He knew, he couldn't hold back anymore. Until now, he had managed to cover up all his wounds, but now he'd take the last step. All those shallow cuts, no matter where they'd been placed, weren't enough anymore. Just like an addict, he needed to up his intake, having developed a resistance.

It was the perfect day; the cloudy sky blocked the sun out, it was cold outside. His mother had left, he was alone. He took a deep breath and looked at the disfigured reflection of his face on the blade. He would do it.

Nagisa took off his shirt. The chilling steel touched his skin as he held the knife to his stomach. Slowly he drew a line, inflicting a shallow cut; a few drops of blood trickled down to his navel. Inhaling, he knew it was time. Slowly but steady he pushed the tip of his knife in his stomach, cutting skin, muscles, tissue and guts. Dark blood gushed out of the wound, and as Nagisa took his final breaths he felt a rush of happiness surging through his veins.

A/N: Okay, that was a little graphic, and really short. I never did that stuff and I don't plan on doing it so I have no idea how to write it, but hey, the song is good. By the way, if you suffer from those conditions, you probably should ask for professional help.