6.
Nagisa is still nine.
There are dead bodies on ground for hours sometimes.
They see white things wander by the crime scenes, leave tiny red prints wherever they walk.
Like tiny angels of death. Nagisa wonders if they are killing people.
But they doubt that fairly quickly after a while. They don't really do much other than swish their tails and talk to the pretty girls.
The real girls, she can't help but think. What is a real girl anyway? Probably a good killer, because all the girls she's seen lately are killing things with ease and a bit of pride.
And yet… she can't help but notice that they don't ever seem to stay the same. There's rarely a girl there more than three times. Then they're gone. Just like that.
She wonders why.
Maybe she'll find one and get an answer.
The thought is more thrilling than the silence of the lack of thrown plates.