SOTF Archive/SOTF Classic

She was awake. Yuki was awake. There was still a chance.

Yuka put her arms beneath her sister's legs and torso. They were about the same weight, she remembered, mirror i mage s  of   each  other     b ut   Y  uk i felt s  o    l    i    g h  t      s      o       w  e  a    k
                                                                    E   r i ka’s  f  a ce, a g un went off, nothing.
                                                               Erika’s face
                                                                Erika

Erika had been behind the door, behind all the beds. She might still be here.

She had to get her out of here, she had to save her.

She stood up, took a step, and she felt her sister slip in her grip, h e r ar  ms were sl ic k wit  h bl oo d, her shoulders quivered, but she shook her head rapidly, she had to save her sister. At each step, the world tilted and turned, it blurred each time she blinked, it felt impossible to find purchase, but she had to get her out, or else there would be nothing left to save.

The two made their way out the room inch by grueling inch. Yuka didn't see the fresh blood that spattered the walls, or the new body lying on the ground. All that remained in front of her was the path leading to the exit, and Yuki.

As she walked, Yuka said, in a calm, cooing voice, "Everything will be alright, Yuki. I'll just- I'll just get you out, and we'll be alright. OK?"

In the next moment, she felt weightless. As if she was lighter than air. Was this the beginning of her ascent to the heavens? Would she finally get to see Yuko again? The pain in her back began to disappear. Was that a good thing? It felt like a good thing.

Yuka’s voice was soft and calming. Like an angel’s. Yuki’s eyes began to tear up. Yuka sounded like she was not hurt. Yuki couldn’t afford for her remaining sister to get hurt. She was too precious to her.

"Everything will be alright, Yuki. I'll just- I'll just get you out, and we'll be alright. OK?"

Outside, it felt so warm. The fresh air felt so relaxing. Despite Yuki’s vision staring to fade, she could tell today was at least adequate. Yuko would have loved a day like this. It was perfect jogging weather. Of course, Yuki would have squandered it by spending her time inside reading. But then Yuka would insist on Yuki trying on some new make up she bought. Such thoughts triggered tear streams down the sides of Yuki’s eyes. She turned her head towards Yuka, smiling.

“Y-Yuka,” Yuki stammered, “Y-you’re not h-hurt a-are you?”

"What? No no no no no, I- I'm fi- I'm not h  u- I'  m I'm no  t hurt. I'm not hurt."

The smile on Yuka's face pulled taut on her muscles, cut through her, Chelsea grin, she fought every urge to crumble, pulled on her muscles, whites above her eyes visible.

Her arms shook, burned, each inch was a mile, she needed a million miles more, please, she stepped on, Yuki felt limp in her grip, a mile more, pl ease, "We're almost there," Yuka cooed, a Chelsea grin, they weren't even halfway, a mile more p  lea  se, her entire body quaked, a mile more, p  le     a  se


Yuka fell to her knees, unwillingly, let Yuki down.

Her arms continued to shake, she looked at them, glared at them, at herself.

The infirmary was still in view, behind, painted a color she never wanted to see again.

They weren't even close to the houses. She couldn't even see them. She had nothing left to give.




She'd have nothing left.




She pulled out the medkit, went through it, and found the gauze. She haphazardly pulled out half the roll of gauze, bit off the end. She refused to have nothing left. She refused to let Yuki be taken away from her. She retrieved the betadine, the painkillers, anything that could make this work, anything that could keep her around, anything, anything, anyth-

She pulled up Yuki's shirt.

In her belly were three holes, three wounds located somewhere. She could not determine the exact placement, the red obscured it all. It poured from her.

Yuka looked at what was in her crimson-stained hands. A mere three feet of gauze, a bottle of disinfectant, a few pills.

She didn't know what to do.

She stared at the wounds, frozen.

Yuki was now on the ground. She looked up at the sky. Her vision was getting worse. The clouds were blurring out. She looked over at Yuka. She was looking over Yuki, completely frozen. With what little strength Yuki had left, she reached over and gently grabbed Yuka’s hand. She couldn’t feel anything despite performing the actions needed for a firm grip.

“Y-Yuka,” Yuki said weakly, “D-on’t blame y-yourself.”

A stream of tears spread down her face as Yuki tried to comfort her sister. She knew. She knew she was finished. She had to make sure Yuka was okay before she went. Yuki mustered enough will power to force a smile.

“Pro-mise m-me,” she continued, “that y-you’ll escape. L-Live.”

All the fond memories of Yuko and Yuka came forth. All those times Yuka tried on new clothes and make up, jogging and playing catch with Yuko. Her father practicing chess with her, her mother critiquing her writing skills. All those precious memories made way for more tears to streamed down her face.

In one last act, Yuki reached her limp hand up to Yuka’s cheek. Were those tears she felt?

“I-it’s okay,” Yuki whispered, “I-I’m go-ing to see Y-Yu-ko.”

With that said, Yuki’s limp arm fell on Yuka’s lap. She closed her eyes, for the last time. A slight smile was all that remained.

G039: Yuki Hayashibara- Deceased

Time was ticking away for Sal, not that he would notice. The pain was all he could think about currently as it overwhelmed him. His hands cupping the wound in his chest, as if to stop the bleeding. He struggled to keep his breathing under control as he did so, especially once he heard footsteps again.

He had no way of stopping whoever was there and waited to see who it was. Was it his killer back to finish what they started?

His eyes widen as much as they could in his current state. Sound of something being dragged along with steps.

Then he saw a glimpse of her in the corner of his eye where he lay, even in his shocked state he weakly reached up his hand to reach out despite all the pain. Words made their way from his chords to his mouth, coming out wheezing and desperate.

"Yu.......ka...." But on she went, footsteps going further and further away until they were gone from his ears. The words died out in his throat once he realised and his hand went back down to the ground. Defeated and tired.

Sal couldn't fathom how she could ignore him. Either she didn't notice or...

She wasn't there. She'd never been there.

He'd been chasing a phantom this entire time.

No that can't be. He was not crazy. There had been something out there he'd been following.

But if it wasn't her then what was it? His mind playing tricks on him?

Must have been another student then. There's no way he didn't see something out.

Oh, what the hell does it matter anymore. He was dying alone from a random killer out here. Following a trail of someone that had left him behind while leaving someone else behind.

This was the only way this could have ended for him. All because of that mistake.

His head went back to the ground as he closed his eyes.

He felt so tired.

But there were footsteps again, and Sal relunctantly opened his eyes. They could barely open now as he strained to see who was there.

Yuka stared wide-eyed at the antiseptic in her hands and the gauze that lay strewn about the bloodstained soil and the pills in her hand. She stared at what was now a bottle of chemicals, torn pieces of fabric, compacted powder. They all laid useless, unutilized.

Her eyes finally moved, twitched from what laid in her hand to what laid in front of her. And all that was left was a smile and closed eyes.

The medical supplies fell to the ground.

She grabbed hold of Yuki's wrist, and they moved limply, hands bowed.

"Y  ou weren't supp  p  posed to do tha  t."

Her hand pressed, felt stillness beneath the flesh.

"You were suppo  supposed t-to let me tr  y."

"I-I"—she gestured to the gauze—"I was supposed to h  help you, help you, protect you, you weren't supposed to take a bullet for me."

Her grip tightened, white indents formed and remained.

"LOOK AT ME, LOOK AT THIS. Iii I   had   a  all these bandages, all these bandages and all these drugs and I was gon  na gonna make you stay because you were supposed to stay because you'  r you're all I h  h  h  HAv  e and you weren't supposed to le  A  V  e me."

"You you you knew that I wanted to hear Yuko say goodbye that I wanted to say GOODBYE to Yuko, why didn't you let me say goodbye to you? I just

"I had so much to say to you. If you were gonna die, I shou  sh  ould have  s hould've been given the chance. I mean, we could've

"We could've talked about Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter and tha  that fantasy novel you wanted to write and I could've told you about my favorite play we were supposed to do so much we were supposed to talk about so much and if you were gonna leave I just


"i just wanted a bit more time."



"Come back Yuki please."



"Please Yuki."


"Come back."


"Yuki."

"Please please PLEASE."




"COME BA—"

After around fifteen minutes, Yuka left her sister's corpse, her bags full, her walk lilting. Yuki's rations laid next to Yuko's, as did the unused medical supplies. What remained in Yuki's bag was a fountain pen that had been gifted at a teppanyaki a week ago. It had been held and cherished and then left behind with its owner.

She walked back towards the infirmary, away from the houses. She walked with her head jerked away from the building. The color sickened her, the smell sickened her, she breathed through her mouth. She had intended on bringing Yuki to rest next to Yuko, but she didn't have the strength for that. She had failed to bring her there. So there was no point in spending any more time around her body, in staying anywhere close.

Live, Yuki had told her. So she would.

What caught her attention as she continued to walk was another body, lying somewhat off to the side of the building. That hadn't been there before.

It wouldn't be either of her sisters so curiosity didn't seem too harmful at this point. It wouldn't hurt to check it out.

The clothes seemed somewhat familiar, but it wasn't until she was almost at the foot of the body that she recognized who it was.

And so she stood stone-faced, regarding Sal silently.

Someone stood near him. Staring at him like they would finding an injured animal out in the woods. Except there were no whimpers or cries coming from Sal. Hushed breathing more like as he laid there trying to place who this was.

It couldn't have been her. She was gone, maybe not having been there in the first place. His mind had been in shambles for days, a struggle for coherence as the nights went by and his eyes sagged out their sockets in the haze his life had turned into.

And yet, there she was, or someone looking like her. It could have been Yuko for all he knew. Maybe it was another girl who had been unlucky enough to stumble onto this place. But it looked like her enough through his struggling eyes that words came through.

"S..orry ab..out...Yuki..." The words almost didn't come out and it had been a struggle not for it to have been a whisper. His voice died down after that and his head went back down. The pain in his chest taking over as he felt the burning in his chest spread across him.

But Sal felt fine in this case. Well, as fine as he could with a bullet in his chest. He had bottled everything in the days since that night. Whether it was her or not, he needed to let it out in words.

And with that, he closed his eyes.

There were no moral quandary or question in Sal's mind towards the end. Where do you go? Do your actions in life dictate the afterlife at all? Or do you just roam this earth watching the spectacle of life? He had been lying if he said any of those thoughts crossed his mind.

No, the only thing on his mind was how nice it would feel to sleep again.

B071 Sal Bonaventura: Deceased

The sisters had separated from Sal two days ago. And all this time, he had been looking for them. Such was his focus that his very last words, words that could've been devoted to his mom or dad or potential siblings, friends, lovers, crushes, had instead been for her. For Yuki.

He had stayed with Yuka all that time because he wanted to help. He had looked for them all this time because, even after they'd accomplished their main goal, he still wanted to help. Even after Yuka had shown the worst parts of herself. And all he got for his troubles was a bullet to the chest.

Two people gave their lives for Yuka, then. Not only Yuki, but Sal, too.




Her fists clenched once, and then no more. Her shoulders stayed still.




What a waste, to be honest.

What Sal did with his last few days wasn't her problem anymore, and it never had been.

Yuki's last words, and Yuko's, if Demetri was right, had both been about not giving up. Fighting on. That was all that was left of them, and so that was all there was left to do. Survive. But, she had a few errands to do along the way. A few people to meet.

For Yuko, for Yuki.

She briefly considered looking through his supplies, but he brought none. He had dropped everything to look for her. Again, a waste.

There was nothing left here for Yuka, in short. So, she walked past the building and didn't look back.

((Yuka Hayashibara continues in The Fifth Announcement))

She'd left him behind in the process of walking away.

Abandoned him with the corpses and without thanks. He supposed that errant idea of being somehow rewarded or acknowledged was just a neuron burst of his usual self.

That self stripped of flesh from the ribs down, left with jagged tears through which the yellow fattiness of his guts bulged and beat with every weaker whisper of his heart. It honestly didn't hurt so much. It was a far away sensation, his pain slowly wandering away from what was left of him.

Cutting deep into him, but he himself losing the ability to conceive depth as dimensions simplified and folded shut, the pages of a book busily coming to an abrupt end.

An unsatisfying end. A sacrifice without purpose. Somehow more people had died than were even initially in the gun's sights. Awkwardly funny, his ebbing vision the final punchline.

He hadn't been useful. Hadn't been worth his weight. Not now. Maybe not ever, his dying breaths gently taunted in the third person as he watched them also fade.

He'd run in and died. Nobody had escaped. Story of his life.

All of a sudden, all his pretense was gone, spilling out onto the wrong side of the skin barely covering his wretched body.

He understood now, could see for once what others saw when they looked at him. Something ugly looking, pasted on the ground where it belonged.

He wanted, more than ever, to say he was sorry. Say something his dad would hear, too-little and too-late. An epitaph not worth the life that had been lived. But he supposed he'd never really learned how to apologize.

His heart fluttered quietly, louder in his head as all the other noises hummed like static. An arm tried for the ceiling in front of him. Some final cool gesture, left buried in the dirt with the rest of him.

He supposed he'd be meeting Mercy again. Maybe. She'd know what to say, how to reassure him.

But he'd stop her right there. Stand up for himself for once.

And tell her to cut it out. She knew it, he knew it for a change. He'd never been worth it.

B008: Demetri Futscher Deceased
93 Students Remaining