[_]ARC 1

[_]CHAPTER 3

[_]THE SKY IS FALLING

The paramedics swarmed in soon after, ambulances coming in by the dozen and stretchers galloping through the hallways like a pack of stampeding buffalo let loose. Hakuba could only watch on as his classmates were helped up and placed on the cots. ALL YOUR FAULT read the ceiling panels as he stared up at them. Not helping. A hand on his shoulder made him jump a mile into the air. "Sir, could you let us treat your injuries and -"

"Not yet. There's other people who are more hurt than me." True. Only too true. He hadn't been nearly as close as the others to the bomb (a short while ago he had examined the scene as a whole and made his deduction that perhaps the bomb had been placed inside the clock... which was right above the door that everybody had been using as an exit) and had had at least some form of shelter, as weak as that desk had turned out to be. The medic stared at him for a moment, looking like he had something to say before changing his mind and just keeping quiet. Hakuba wished that people could just say what they needed to say, tell others what was on their minds. No more of this 'keep it to yourself' business. Then again, back in Britain his mother was always on his back about how much of a hypocrite he could be sometimes. He bit his tongue to keep a snide retort down before continuing, long pause still existing. "The people by the door got hit the hardest. They were the closest to the bomb's range." And quieter still, "And if you could check up on her," he pointed at Aoko-chan, "I would greatly appreciate it."

"Will do, Sir," the man bowed slightly before running over to her. Hakuba didn't bother watching the exchange, but he did catch a bit nonetheless. Aoko-chan refusing, the paramedic insisting, a stretcher being motioned over, more refusal from Aoko-chan. She got onto the stretcher, though, surprisingly enough. As she was brought out she stuck her tongue out at him. "Hakuba-kun, I'm fine, so don't worry. Go get yourself some help. It's out of your hands now so you don't need to stick around."

He snorted once she left. Out of my control, sure. Doesn't mean there was nothing I could do. But since when had he become so cynical? He blamed it on Kuroba. That guy was practically breathing his personality onto every person he met, and they had nothing else that they could do but breathe it in. Conform. Adapt. He smirked slightly at the thought of "adapting to Kuroba-ism" despite the grim circumstances that had led to that train of thought. Despite the grave setting he now found himself in. And his smile only became more pronounced as that idea struck him. Kuroba really did seem to have that affect on people, didn't he...

It occurred to him, not for the first time that day, that Kuroba was not there. It seemed kind of ironic, seeing that trouble usually followed that guy everywhere, and the day he just happened to not be there, something like this happens. But then again... but then again, Kuroba was never absent. And suddenly this was too much to be a coincidence. And also suddenly, Hakuba found himself with a rather large head ache that was painfully worming itself through his skull and pounding angrily at his temple. He had half a mind to whack his head to try to get the ache out, but then again, it felt like he only had half a mind to start with anyway.

He became subconsciously aware of a slight crumbling sound. At first he didn't mind it all that much, but as the sound settled in more and more he realized the actual weight and gravity it held in this situation (no pun intended). He scanned the room, mostly the ceiling for signs of something giving way so that he could get everyone away from that specific spot. He didn't want to herd everyone into a corner of the room only to find that he had just led them all into danger. He didn't want a repeat of last time.

Sure enough, a small hairline crack just barely visible to the naked human. eye was resting just around the area where the door was located. Which meant that there were now a few options; a) get everybody out as fast as possible and risk disturbing people's wounds, b) stay put and crowd against the opposite wall, and lastly c) not do anything and pretend he didn't see anything. Okay, letter c was obviously eliminated. He scolded himself for even coming up with that option, before sulkily reminding himself that it really was a choice he could make. And some people actually made that choice before. He found that hard to believe until he remembered that he had been sitting in class for a full twenty minutes knowing something was wrong before actually bothering to do something about it. He tried to argue that that example was completely out of context and therefore did not count, but the other part of his brain that he was debating with told the truth very clearly that, yes, it did count. Because he had the option to do something, anything, and he didn't.

So there he was, calling out to the emergency responders that he spotted a crack in the ceiling, most likely caused by the bomb and not having already been there. They all pitched in – they, meaning Hakuba, the responders, and his other classmates that were already up and walking – and helped usher the wounded over to a safer corner with (hopefully) less cracks in the ceiling. Nobody complained this time, nobody doubted him this time. Everybody just did as they were told. Because he was Hakuba, the kid that got straight A's and knew the answer to every question that sensei asked. Because he was Hakuba, the kid that was a great detective and could tell a whole lot of random details about a person's life just by shaking their hand. Because he was Hakuba, the kid that knew about the bomb. Because he was Hakuba, and he was never wrong.

And sure enough, he wasn't wrong. It took ten, maybe twenty minutes, but eventually the ceiling did fall down. Curling white clouds of dust overtook the room. People hacked and coughed and whooped and spat. Dust dust dust. Dust everywhere. Once it all settled, everybody was looking a lot paler than before. Hakuba, himself, set about picking some particles out of his hair once he saw how ridiculous everyone else looked with their jet black hair all grayed and whitened by shocking white ceiling debris. He stopped when he remembered that it wouldn't show as easily on his European blonde hair, and also when he remembered that this wasn't exactly the time nor the place to be worrying about looks.

What was the most horrifying aspect of the ceiling falling down was the fact that somehow everybody had failed to comprehend what the action of "falling down" actually meant for them all. The crack had grown larger during that span of maybe twenty minutes and had expanded to the already weak doorframe. When the ceiling went down, their only exit went as well. It wasn't blocked. It was collapsed. Gone. And while there were, of course, windows, they had a room full of wounded people that couldn't even stand themselves up on their own two feet, let alone jump out a window. Hakuba considered it all and ended up just being grateful that they were on the first floor, and so hopefully it wouldn't be that much of a hassle getting them out.

He was still kind of in shock about the whole ordeal. Sure, he had witnessed every last piece of it – every last event of it – but it still seemed sort of... surreal. Like he was just dreaming. But he had never, not once, had a dream quite so realistic as this one, where he could feel pain and feel guilty for not knowing about knowing. He vainly wished it all to be a dream, a passing nightmare he could laugh about while disclosing the details of it over some tea and crumpets with Baaya. But everything was just too real to be a dream, and he already knew that. He knew that the moment he opened that window to get the paper taped to it.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had just let things be. If he had not known anything about the note, or about the bomb, or about anything. Would... would people actually be less injured? He was the one, after all, that had made such a fuss about getting everybody to and out the door. And the door was, in essence, Madame Guillotine. Which reminded him – and gave him another thing to be grateful about – that he had not yet heard of any fatalities that had occurred thus far. Too many casualties, sure, but that was nothing to cry over. He, himself, was just another number in the casualty count. And he was fine. Wasn't he? Because he sure felt fine, if not a little numb. Or maybe he was hurt, and the numbness was just covering it up. He looked down at himself once again, and retook in all the blood on his clothes. It still amazed him, how it was able to bleed through black fabric. He made a mental note to research that (for God knows what reason) when he got home.

A little tapping made itself known to him again, the sound a little louder than the faint crack-crackling he had heard half an hour ago. Tap tap tap tap tap. What was that? The door was a dead end (again, no pun intended). So... surely that was something at the window lattice? Ah, this truly was a mystery to explore. Who – or what – could possibly be rapping at the classroom window? Hakuba pondered this along with numerous allusions to The Raven as he made his way over.

Ah. That's what it was. Truth be told, he had sort of been expecting as much.

…

AN: Um, I have nothing to say about this except it is a day light due to excessive amounts of homework yesterday. And that it's a bit short, but hey – it was a great place to put in a cliffhanger. Because, you know, my sole purpose in this world is to annoy the heck out of you guys. I've said it before, and I say it again now. It's only the truth, after all. (Just kidding it's not.)

And well, about that cliffie. Unlike everything else in this story, I actually have it planned out. Figured it all out in my head while writing. And by "all", I mean first two paragraphs of the next chapter. Somehow I'm going to have to come up with like four other pages on Word to fill up Chapter 4. Jeez, I don't even know what's going to happen next. I'm just going with the flow and hoping it all works out. (That's probably not the correct way to write a good story but whatever. It's a free country – well, at least where I live it is)

Please note: There is an intentional punctuation error in this chapter. I put it there because it made me laugh. If you find it and it doesn't make you giggle, then I don't think this is the story for you (or maybe it is. I don't know. I'm not you).