Mizuho didn't know if her shot had hit him. She didn't even realize she wasn't firing anymore for a little while, but when she did, she stopped. She stopped, and she looked at him, and then there was the rattling sound. There was nowhere to dive, this time, nowhere to find cover or escape. Mizuho jerked as the bullets impacted, punching holes in her torso, her shoulders, her arms. It was not unexpected. Mizuho had held one tremendous advantage throughout the entire fight: she had never been trying to survive. She had simply hoped to manage a draw. At first, she had been acting for revenge. Now... now she wasn't even sure why she was doing what she was.
Akamatsu fell over in the background. Was he dead? No, couldn't be, not yet. Not after shooting her like that. It would take him at least a few minutes to bleed out, probably. And even then, who knew? They were in a clinic. There could be all sorts of stuff around, stuff he could patch himself up with. Mizuho couldn't say for sure that Akamatsu wouldn't walk out of this. She could definitely tell that she wouldn't, though.
Blood was dripping from her, pooling on the ground. It was like it had with Shuuya, back in the classroom. Right now, Mizuho didn't hurt at all, and she wondered vaguely if Shuuya had. If Megumi and Mayumi and Kaori and Tatsumichi had.
But there was no point wondering. Everything was going dark, now. She could almost imagine that she could hear them, could feel Kaori wrapping her in a hug again. Soon, when her friends were more solid, she would ask them about their deaths. She would ask them, and they would all be happy together again. Yes.
No.
No, it wouldn't be like that. She shook her head, and the darkness receded a little. Akamatsu was looking at her. It was starting to hurt a bit, not that badly though. Kaori was gone. Silence filled the air, except an occaisional drip.
She wondered what the next person here would think. What they would do when they found her and Akamatsu lying like this. It wasn't how she'd wanted to die. She'd wanted to die in the sunlight, in a way that meant something, not lying on the floor in a little building. She'd wanted to do something that mattered.
But she didn't really have control of that anymore, did she?
Did she?
Slowly, painfully, she raised her left hand. It didn't go very far up, but she managed to coax it into her lap. Just like she'd thought. She still held the grenade, in the same grip she had carried it—well, really the other, the one that killed Kaori—for most of her stay in the Program. She smiled, because she still had a choice.
She couldn't die in the sun, but she could bring it here by proxy.
She looped the ring around her left index finger, held the grenade between her legs, and pulled. The pin came out, and the grenade clattered to the ground, the handle flying off. If she understood correctly, she had about three seconds left. Too bad the blackness was closing in again, more strongly now.
No!
No, she couldn't die before it went off. It just wasn't fair. She tried to move, tried to straighten up, but her body wasn't listening. She tried to move her legs, but she couldn't. She could still move her left arm, though, and, with the last of her energy, she brought it up and grabbed hold of her necklace. That done, her arm fell limp, tearing the pendant from her neck, letting it fall to the ground, where it cracked and fell to pieces.
The movement gave her some focus. She stared at the shards. It had always been so pretty. She had always wished for it to be crystal, for it to be a real treasure, but it had never been anything more than glass. But she had loved it, loved it with all her heart even though it wasn't exactly what she had wanted, even though it was just a mass-produced, overpriced bauble, and in the end, that was all that really mattered.
And then there was a flash of brilliant light.
Ninth Grade/Class B - Girl #1: MIZUHO INADA: ELIMINATED
15 STUDENTS REMAINING
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MurderWeasel
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It was all Yoshio could do to not pass out from the blood. He supposed the third bullet had hit an artery, because the red was pooling on the floor, meeting his eyes. His still open eyes couldn't avoid it. It was his blood, and he wasn't going to live past this battle. He wasn't even going to live for the next minute. And there was so many things he had never done yet, so many things no-one had done yet...
The grenade that was now free of Mizuho's grasp rolled across the hard, wooden floor towards him, and it dawned on him that he only had seconds left. Seconds to reflect, to think, to realise something before he was incinerated by that tool of destruction.
...
But in the end, there really was nothing to think about. No-one to ponder if they would miss him, no one to think about, and no-one who would even investigate or find out how he died.
With the last of his strength, Yoshio used his good foot to kick away the final canister from the wall. If it was only a grenade, there was the chance he wouldn't die immediately. He could be wounded, several limbs removed while he laid there bleeding to death, to be listened to in his death throes by some large, fat government official. No, he would make sure that now that he was dying, he would make it quick, and much less painful.
The canister rolled in front of him at an odd angle, and Yoshio, defying his promise to himself, squeezed his eyes shut.
The last thing Yoshio ever felt was a warm flash engulf his body, and the split second before his consciousness became obselete...nothing.
Ninth Grade/Class B - Boy #1: YOSHIO AKAMATSU: ELIMINATED
14 STUDENTS REMAINING
The grenade belonging to Mizuho Inada did not end it's damage right there and then. As the explosion engulfed the room, consuming the bodies of Mizuho and Yoshio, both tanks in the room were ruptured, and compressed oxygen spilt into the room. Immediately, the explosion became firey, combustable, and several elements around the clinic and in the clinic fueled this.
In every medical room of the clinic was an oxygen tank, which, after the initial explosion, spilt a tiny rupture into the tank, and started the process over again in each room.
In each cabinet of the medical rooms was a large supply of cleaning alcohol, which, also after the initial explosion, fell off their shelves onto the ground and spilt combustible liquid in those contained areas. Once the flames reached those areas, however, the medical equipment so dedicated to the saving of lives went up like tissue paper.
In the back of the clinic, was a garage. The car of the now recently deceased doctor of the island stood dormant next to a large jerry can filled with oil. It was unlucky for anyone willing to use the clinic again, however, that the can was open.
The next actions could only be described as a firestorm, as several explosions rocketed the clinic, and combined into a single explosion, burning and scarring the four bodies still left at the clinic. The large fireball extended itself into the sky, being visible all across the island now. Several small fires were now starting around the clinic, reaching as far as the body of Yuko Sakaki, yards away.
And the only thing left of the clinic was the frail, wooden frame of the once prominent building, scorched and mangled bodies, and several twisted, unusable pieces of metal that now littered the explosion site.
The grenade that was now free of Mizuho's grasp rolled across the hard, wooden floor towards him, and it dawned on him that he only had seconds left. Seconds to reflect, to think, to realise something before he was incinerated by that tool of destruction.
...
But in the end, there really was nothing to think about. No-one to ponder if they would miss him, no one to think about, and no-one who would even investigate or find out how he died.
With the last of his strength, Yoshio used his good foot to kick away the final canister from the wall. If it was only a grenade, there was the chance he wouldn't die immediately. He could be wounded, several limbs removed while he laid there bleeding to death, to be listened to in his death throes by some large, fat government official. No, he would make sure that now that he was dying, he would make it quick, and much less painful.
The canister rolled in front of him at an odd angle, and Yoshio, defying his promise to himself, squeezed his eyes shut.
The last thing Yoshio ever felt was a warm flash engulf his body, and the split second before his consciousness became obselete...nothing.
Ninth Grade/Class B - Boy #1: YOSHIO AKAMATSU: ELIMINATED
14 STUDENTS REMAINING
The grenade belonging to Mizuho Inada did not end it's damage right there and then. As the explosion engulfed the room, consuming the bodies of Mizuho and Yoshio, both tanks in the room were ruptured, and compressed oxygen spilt into the room. Immediately, the explosion became firey, combustable, and several elements around the clinic and in the clinic fueled this.
In every medical room of the clinic was an oxygen tank, which, after the initial explosion, spilt a tiny rupture into the tank, and started the process over again in each room.
In each cabinet of the medical rooms was a large supply of cleaning alcohol, which, also after the initial explosion, fell off their shelves onto the ground and spilt combustible liquid in those contained areas. Once the flames reached those areas, however, the medical equipment so dedicated to the saving of lives went up like tissue paper.
In the back of the clinic, was a garage. The car of the now recently deceased doctor of the island stood dormant next to a large jerry can filled with oil. It was unlucky for anyone willing to use the clinic again, however, that the can was open.
The next actions could only be described as a firestorm, as several explosions rocketed the clinic, and combined into a single explosion, burning and scarring the four bodies still left at the clinic. The large fireball extended itself into the sky, being visible all across the island now. Several small fires were now starting around the clinic, reaching as far as the body of Yuko Sakaki, yards away.
And the only thing left of the clinic was the frail, wooden frame of the once prominent building, scorched and mangled bodies, and several twisted, unusable pieces of metal that now littered the explosion site.
