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They all wanted to be together today, the whole of Class E, each of them had grown up a lot since Koro's death.
Seven years already…
Today they had decided to give a facelift to this building which had seen them grow into the adults they were today.
They all arrived at the bottom of the mountain.
Shaking hands, hugs were exchanged, anecdotes were shared, and news traveled fast.
It was good for them to see each other again.
Together they climbed the mountain.
Free running, just like in the old days.
They had lost nothing, continuing to keep in shape so as not to lose what they had cherished in that class, that talent for assassination.
Nagisa was certainly the best at that.
It was Sugino who told them this.
The last time he had seen his friend, he seemed even twice as strong as he had been in their high school years.
It was a shame he couldn't come today, everyone else could have seen him.
But what can you do? He's a busy man.
Like Karma, by the way, along with Nagisa, they were the only two who were not present.
To be honest, they hadn't even been able to contact Karma; they only got her voicemail.
But anyway, he was fine, they were all sure of it, it was Karma.
The only one who had seen him in the four years since he finished high school and moved away was Nagisa.
It was a shame he wasn't there.
Rio had to admit it, she might have been the only one, but she was worried about her former best friend.
She knew him well from all the hours they had spent together pulling dirty tricks.
He wasn't so unperturbed.
But he was surely going to live the life he had dreamed of.
They reached the summit and saw Kayano already there, looking at the building from afar.
They headed towards her.
“Wow, you look like you just came from an audition,” Meg said to her.
She smile and replied.
“That’s right, I’ve just left the set.”
Her friends gathered around her and talked with her about her latest crazy film and their lives.
“By the way, have you been here long?” Isogai asked.
Kayano shook her head.
“No, it’s fine, I’ve only been here a few minutes before you,” she declared.
Then they all decided to get started.
“To you, Isogai, Mr. Key-keeper,” said Maehara.
Isogai takes out the keys.
“You’re the one who entrusted them to me, I’ll have you know,” he said.
“That’s because you’ve always been the most responsible, Mr. Delegate,” Okano sneered.
And Isogai smiled.
Then they approached the door.
Except that they all stopped.
The padlock.
It was open.
He had been forced.
A shadow passed over their faces.
Then Isogai put away the keys, and they took a step into the building.
Silently, like professional assassins.
Step by step, heading towards the classroom.
“Here?” thinks Sugino.
“Why?” Fuwa wondered.
“How?” Meg wondered.
The lock had been forced open like a pro.
Rio swallowed his saliva.
“Surely not?” she said to herself.
Then they all went back into their classroom at the same time, like a rush of air it only lasted a moment.
“Don’t move anym-” Terasaka began from the front.
But he stopped mid-sentence, like all the others in their stride.
Some of them had wide eyes.
In any case, he wasn't expecting it.
In the shade at the back of the classroom, he was just there.
There's no way to mistake this red color for any other.
Akabane Karma.
They were the only ones who could so brazenly enter their building.
But at that moment no one stepped forward to lecture him.
They were all petrified.
The Devil, burning amidst the flames of hell that they were used to seeing, was there.
Too quiet.
Lying on his chair, feet resting on his table.
He was asleep.
Her red hair fell towards the back.
Her face was pale.
Only a few of them noticed the dark circles.
But what they noticed most was the ashtray on his table.
It matched the smell of cigarette floating in the air.
Meg finally decided to move forward.
And they all followed.
1, 2, 3, 4, …
No matter how many times they counted, there were more than 10 crushed cigarettes in the ashtray.
“How long has he been smoking?” Rio wondered.
His concern for the redhead increased tenfold.
“Since when has he looked so exhausted?” she wondered.
He had always been brilliant.
His face contorted and he slowly opened his eyes.
He looked at them straight ahead without reacting.
No word, no change in his gaze.
A somber look.
Then he reached into his pocket to get out his pack of cigarettes and took one out, slipped it between his lips, and lit it.
He let his head fall back, the cigarette between his teeth and swept his hair back, exhausted, before looking at them again.
He took a drag on his cigarette and removed it from his lips.
Then he spoke.
“Sorry,” he said. “I never moved on.”