Splinters of carmine worlds hung in her mind.

Mixing into the broiling cauldron filled with anxiety, terror and guilt, there was nothing in the real world that she could see.

Her surroundings were drowned in white noise, blurred almost entirely from her grasp.

The sun had finished setting as the hours ticked by, bleeding away like the last drops of life remaining within her veins.

Katsuragi Amaya couldn't sit still.

There was no way her nerves would let her, even as exhausted as she was at that moment.

Even as her head pulsed with dull aches and her body sluggishly heeded the demands of her anxious ticks, all she could bring herself to do, was stare.

Down at the bloodied package carefully set out across her dining table, she stared, wringing her hands together to try and hold herself together. Her gaze remained firmly fixed upon the visage of trauma laid out before her.

Her restless feet sounded brisk, rhythmic tapping against the scuffed wooden floorboards beneath her.

The dull, ceaseless dial tone of her cellphone hung hauntingly in the back of her head, mixing with the white static noise that pulsated against her ears.

She should know how to deal with this.

A legitimate abduction should have been entirely mundane, given the combination of her childhood and the better portion of a year existing up at that disastrous satellite campus. And yet.... Here she was terrified and at a loss of what it was she was supposed to be doing.

Nothing she ever did was correct.

She could never accomplish the satisfactory.

Doomed to fail before she could even begin to mend her misfortunes, where all she could see was the worst yet to come.

This was a sick, twisted joke.

And she was sick of pretending to laugh along with it.

Her clothes clung to her in awkward places, damp with a combination of tacky flecks of crimson, muddied dredges of after-rain slosh from that roadside ditch, and sweat. Her glasses, now scuffed and bearing a hairline fracture in the right lens sat precariously on her tender nose. There was no doubt that should any outsider see her now, she would be quite the fright.

She should change, take a quick shower and clean her various scrapes and cuts before any infections began to set in.

But she didn't have it in her to tear her gaze away from the package that had been nailed to her front door.

Beyond the obvious taunts practically screaming right in her face, there was something else there that she was failing to see.

'It's gotta be some kind of ransom package!' Hiroto's voice echoed from the further expanses of the otherwise silent house, conversing anxiously with another she could neither hear nor see. 'No, I can't make sense of it but it's definitely malicious! Like, I didn't think it was possible, but it really makes that bastard reaper guy look like some random thug in comparison!'

He had no idea just how far his voice was echoing....

At least the house was moderately soundproofed.

'...What the hell do I do? Like, this isn't just a warning. It's a threat, isn't it?! They nailed a severed finger to her front door!'

A shudder tore straight down Amaya's spine at the reminder, and instinctively she found her gaze flicking straight to the refrigerator.

One of the extremely rare benefits of attending the satellite campus was the tiny moments of first-aid instruction that Karasuma issued when a new part of the training commenced. Among those extremely few moments, Karasuma had once explained what to do if somebody managed to sever their own hand off mid-accident just in case somebody was stupid and actually managed to hurt themselves.

The appendage now remained in the refrigerator, sealed in a bag suspended in ice-water in hopes that it could be reattached later.

And as to who it belonged to...

Well, she knew the answer to that one.

The familiar half-healled cut running up one side said enough, as did a closer look at the polaroids before her.

Out of the three younger siblings pictured battered and bruised, only the eldest had one arm left free from bindings to see. In an obvious declaration of proof, she could see clearly through the bloody bandages bound around his hand that he was missing his pinky finger from his right hand.

And, in a twisted sense, the one most likely to emulate Amaya's overprotective side was Yuta... even more so since the return from Okinawa.

Unfortunately, that meant that he probably volunteered just to spare Reiko and Samuel.

'We legitimately tried calling every number she could think of. Every cell phone and contact book, I swear!' Hiroto's voice pressed, more urgent than before. 'I even got Yuuma to try on his phone but got nothing. You sure the guy is the person to call about this, sensei? Its like he's deliberately ignoring the phone or something!'

Sensei, as in Karasuma-sensei, was it?

It was the only logical answer as to who Hiroto could be on the phone with, right now.

He wouldn't call Koro-sensei without express permission from her, not after the way everything boiled over and her boundaries had been violated as badly as they had. If Hiroto had betrayed her trust and involved Koro-sensei, the octopus would currently be inside her house without a moments delay. Because he had no rational sense about keeping his meddling tentacles out of other people's business.

And it would be insane to even consider that it could be Jelavic on the phone.

'THAT'S NOT HELPING, DAMN IT!' Hiroto's frustrated shout throughout the house drew a shuddering breath from Amaya. 'Can't you at least give me some kinda suggestion to go on?! Anything at all?! The bastards didn't even leave a ransom message or anything useful!'

She pitied Karasuma and his hearing at that moment.

She hoped the guy had Hiroto on loudspeaker... otherwise that was sure to have hurt.

Amaya's gaze slowly turned back to the table ahead of her, and the incessant tapping of her feet resumed their jittery pace.

The contents of the package was set out across the table like a macabre collage, filled with glimpses of her worst nightmares brought to life. Like a twisted soul didn't think writing a simple ransom note was enough to make things painful for her. Unlike Hiroto, however, she was certain that a clue was hidden amid the gore.

The dozens of polaroid photographs were marred in varying ways; drenched in tacky blood, scribbled over with marker, some were even scratched over with what she could only guess was a box cutter. Some were folded and crumpled, a few torn, but they all bore the same set of numbers in the corners to depict a time and date. Hiroto had made a clear attempt at setting the photographs out in organised groups while she was unconscious.

The faces in the photographs were vandalised with marker like how a younger, much more destructive Karma would have vandalised school photographs of disliked faculty members on display in the main campus. But any glimpse of her own face in the photographs? Her face was violently scrubbed out leaving the photo card tattered and torn, her neck was scribbled over with sharp lines of marker, or the photograph itself had been completely torn in two to divide her head from her body.

The superficial message was loud and clear; whoever sent the package meant her harm. Sadly, that didn't glean her any information beyond that lone fact.

Many people wished her ill, some with far more vitriol than others.

But to the point of wanting her dead?

She didn't know.

But whoever this was, they had been following her every movement to such a painfully intimate degree...

There were photographs of her up on the Satellite Campus, through the streets of Kunugigaoka... even one of her entering Karma's Apartment Building that last day she set foot on that cursed mountain.

So whoever had been tailing her was at least moderately versed on what was happening on that mountainside.

No... that was far too naive to assume.

They were probably as equally well-versed in the smallest details of that satellite campus as she was.

As Amaya reached out towards the polaroids, her fingers grazed against the tacky, drying blood speckled against the surface of a photograph taken of Yuta, who sat bound to a steel-framed chair. The marker scratchings obscured the boy's face and any prominent details of the room he was contained within, and the timestamp in the corner of the polaroid paper read 3.41pm.

She could see that he was looking quite pale through the lines of marker, bruising and one of his forearms was swelling prominently in one place.

There was no need to harm the children to this extent... they would have cooperated.

She'd taught the twins to cooperate if they ever were grabbed, to do as they were told and let her do the fighting. They obeyed at every instance without fail, so it was unlikely that they'd act out all of a sudden. Yuta never struggled when Hayashi's group grabbed him at the start of the school year... Samuel did his best to cooperate during that kidnapping, even if he was screaming and crying the whole time.

So this had to be unnecessary harm inflicted to prove a point.

Thus, the severed finger...

Amaya set the polaroid down with a trembling hand, reigning in what little composure she could with a heavy breath. Her stomach rolled painfully as she tried to keep herself from falling into that same spiral she devolved into when she left the Satellite Campus.

She didn't have time for this...

This running around in circles, spiraling out of control... Now wasn't the time when she had to find what was missing from the--

Schtuck!

Amaya froze in her tracks as the polaroid she'd attempted to lift from the pile separated from the tabletop with an alarming sticking noise, as if she'd just ripped a well-stuck label from a glass jar.

Drying blood... didn't do that, did it?

She was positive it didn't, but had never left bloody polaroids lying on a table before to truly know.

And as Amaya flipped the polaroid over in her hands, she found herself proven quite correct.

She'd assumed the tacky feeling of the polaroids was the drying blood, given the sheer amount of it that stained the entirety of the threatening package, but now that she was staring down at a overly gelatinous kind of soap streaking globulous lines across the photographic papers, she wasn't sure what it even was.

But through the stench of blood overwhelming her senses, the faint hints of chemical laundry detergent began to reach her notice.

'What the actual...' Amaya's muttered words of confusion trailed off as she found more lines of tacky laundry detergent on other polaroids in the pile.

Why was laundry detergent prominent?

Why, out of everything was it even there?

And yet, that fact alone scratched at the back of her mind uncomfortably, burrowing its way through what should have been firmly afixed in the forefront of her thoughts.

She couldn't read it... She couldn't even see it.

And yet, the merest prospect that this could be a clue threw her into action.

A faint yelp from Hiroto rung through the house as Amaya's chair clattered and slid across the floor, mixing with the frantic flipping of dozens of polaroid photographs. The shouted exclamations never came to her conscious notice, nor did the approaching footsteps as she worked to unveil the sticky lines of detergent underneath.

'Maya-chan?' She heard Hiroto's startled voice call out from somewhere near the couch, brimming with what sounded like a mix between alarm and confusion. 'What are you--'

'They're marked!' She gasped out as she unstuck another soapy polaroid from the tabletop quickly.

'They are?! Where?!'

Amaya didn't answer.

She was too preoccupied with just flipping the damned polaroids over.

Her motions were jittery at best as she upturned the whole collage of polaroids, clumsy at worst as she accidentally tore one and elbowed an approaching Hiroto all in the same motion.

'Is there anything I can...' His words trailed off as she dashed quickly into the kitchen.

And no further words escaped him as she returned with a large container of one of those coloured spices Karma had envied and upended its entire contents over the whole table.

The whole living room was smothered in a haze of garlic, paprika and cayenne as Amaya furiously pressed as much of the powder as she could into the backs of the polaroids. The empty spice container clattered noisily to the ground as she threw it haphazardly across the living room, eliciting a flinch from her friend.

It was a handful of seconds before Hiroto seemed to grasp what was going on and joined her in the mad rush to excavate the message left underneath.

One by one the back of the polaroids were roughly pressed with spices, revealing that what was drawn in sap-like detergent was what appeared to be a series of numbers or letters drawn across multiple polaroids. It was a nightmarish number of minutes just trying to get each polaroid fitting together to fully reveal the message like some messed up jigsaw puzzle.

Amaya cautiously stepped back from the counter as Hiroto slipped the last polaroid into the macabre puzzle, frantic gaze taking in the visage of three sets of numbers showing through messy smears of detergent and spices.

# 2 9* * 1 8 3 0 4 # 9 3 2 8 9 8 1 9 2 3 *

# 9 2 9 3 7 4 8 2 2 # 9 9 0 * # # *

6 3 9 0 1 8 8 #

'...You think that could be some kinda code?' Hiroto hesitantly asked, roughly running a hand through his haywire hair. 'I mean, the first one, right? The rest doesn't make any sense...Maybe Coordinates or something?'

'Your guess is as good as mine.' Amaya admitted weakly.

However, they certainly didn't look like any set of coordinates she had ever seen before.

Not that coordinates made all that much sense to her on the best of days...

Nor did the combinations look like some kind of cypher.

'Would Karasuma-sensei know what it means?' Hiroto questioned aloud.

Amaya didn't answer.

That tiny wisp of hope she thought she'd grasped was entirely dashed.

There was no hope of her discerning what exactly that code was.

She was useless...

What options did she have left?

What was there that she hadn't tried?

She wasn't intelligent by any means. She didn't have the critical thinking necessary to deal with something like this. She didn't have the patience to try, to go over the facts ceaselessly. And she didn't have the avenues to follow though to seek help anymore. The visage of her battered phone lying innocently on the table dusted with spice mix mocked her with its very existence.

Even if she swallowed her pride, ignored the hurt and betrayal that still festered inside of her, she couldn't ask Koro-sensei for help.

He had to remain on standby in case anything awry happened with the two 400 kilometers off of earth. Additionally, he presumably had to handle the landing in however many hours there were left before atmospheric re-entry. A fiery crash-landing was all too likely if any one thing went wrong... nobody could survive that. Two unrelated lives were in literal danger if he missed any disaster on the horizon. If he was distracted at the very wrong second and they died, it would be all her fault.

Ritsu was out of the question, and she wasn't even installed on any of her siblings new phones. She was needed elsewhere right now, and she had to absolutely monitor everything she and Koro-sensei were focused on.

And Karasuma-sensei always, always had far too much on his plate. With this stupid space-escapade now happening, he undoubtedly had far worse trouble on his hands. She couldn't expect him to drop what he was doing to come bail her out of a situation, regardless of how dire it really was. The Government was not the kind of governing body to forgive trouble all for the sake of three children. It was a miracle that Hiroto could hound the poor guy on the phone for as long as he had about this mess.

The abductors would have known all of that.

So what else was there...?

A nervous, shuddering sigh escaped her as she reached outwards to that wretched phone, one that went unnoticed by her friend still pouring his undivided attention upon the cryptic codes left on the back of the polaroid photographs.

Her fingers tapped against the screen, grazing against new hairline cracks that now marred the glass with every swipe.

She navigated glitching menu screens and app lists until eventually, she was staring at a contact entry.

Yuta :') - Last online today, 6.53am.

Her finger hovered over the vague blur of damaged pixels where the "call" button usually showed briefly.

She was grasping at straws, at misguided prayers for a miracle.

But she still pressed that button and tucked the speaker against her ear.

"Sorry," An automated voice promptly echoed through the speaker. "The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later."

Of course, calling Yuta's phone didn't work.

It was useless to bother.

But still, she tried.

Scrolling through the meager list, she continued.

"Sorry, the person you are trying to reach is una--"

Reiko's phone was a dead end.

Of course the abductors would have confiscated their phones, or disposed of them.

"Sorry, the person you are trying to rea--"

It was common knowledge that phones could be tracked down...

Only a moron would forget to deal with an abductee's phone ahead of time. Only the stupid would fail to cut off all links to the outside world, corner and entrap the captive so that their true target had no choice but to obey any and all demands.

"Sorry, the person yo--"

Suddenly, with enough force to startle Hiroto standing a few feet away, Amaya's phone clattered loudly against the hardwood near the stairs. It took every fiber of her being to not launch her cell phone violently at the kitchen wall instead.

'Maya-chan?!' Hiroto gasped out in fright. 'What--'

'I-I can't--' Her words were stuck, caught in her throat like her trembling breath as she backed away from the table. The rolling of her stomach mixed with the quickly fraying threads of her composure was a volatile concoction, worsened all the more with the racing of her pulse in her ears. 'I g-gotta go.'

She was about to crack.

She needed an out right now before she rearranged the whole living room again.

Hiroto's ensuing words failed to reach Amaya's concsious notice as she quickly turned on her heel to dart out of the living room, mixing dully with the scrambling of her slipping footsteps through the dusting of discarded spices across the varnished wood floors. Her spiraling mind was barrelling through endless worse-case scenarios and death-flags with such haste that her surroundings weren't sinking in on her.

At least, until a startling, animalistic shriek ripped through the air and the sensation of fur underfoot startled the living daylights out of her.

The fright sent the overwhelmed teen immediately backing away in alarm.

Oh god, right...The cats.

She'd completely forgotten about them.

Gasped expletives tumbled from Amaya's tongue as her eyes immediately dropped to the floor, where she found two young cats staring up at her with wide eyes. The exceedingly fluffy white cat aptly named "Fluffy" was reeling back with a lashing tail as she growled angrily at the teen, while her counterpart, Jiji, simply sat with his head tilted to one side with apparently no thought running through his head at that moment.

Apparently, she'd stepped on Fluffy without realising, and it was good luck within bad that no claws or teeth had landed any retaliating strike.

Not that she'd particularly blame the little cat if she did.

'God damn it, what am I going to do with you...?' Amaya groaned out as she roughly ran her hands through her haywire hair. She didn't have the time or mental stability for this problem right now, and she knew it. 'I can't leave them here...'

The vet that held onto them last time might already be closed. They'd definitely closed by the time she got out there with the cats.

She didn't have the time to find another vet to hold onto them, if there even was one still open at this time of night.

She didn't know how long this disaster was going to take... if she could even come back for the cats if things went wrong, even. If nobody even came back, just leaving them with plenty of food and water wasn't going to be the best solution for them.

If she left them here... they were probably going to die.

'I gotcha.'

Amaya flinched away as movement in her peripheral vision startled her, blinking wildly as she was snapped immediately out of her downward spiral. And matching the overwhelmed teen's fright, an indignant yowl escaped the indignant Fluffy as she was swiftly scooped up into Hiroto's confident grasp. She watched silently as the lashing of the cat's tail grew more violent with every passing second, and faint growling began to pepper the otherwise silent air in the house.

The albino could only remain silent as her friend turned to cast her a small smile.

'I'll sort them out for you, don't worry.' Hiroto quickly reassured her, in spite of the fact that the white furball in his grasp was now growling threats to claw his arms to bits. 'I'll drop them off at my place and come straight back. Mom's been trying to talk dad into letting her get a cat anyway, so she won't mind at all.'

Jiji's dark form looped contentedly around Hiroto's ankles in spite of Fluffy's obvious fury.

Was it a good idea to let Hiroto do as he wanted with the cats?

...Probably.

It'd be in their best interests, after all.

Wordlessly, Amaya could only nod her head in answer.

'Cool.' Hiroto tucked the furious furball under one arm without hesitation before scooping up a much more compliant Jiji. 'So you just try and take a quick breather for a second. I'll be back before you know it. Alright?'

And with that, her friend quickly requisitioned an empty box from the kitchen, sealed the two young cats up and took off into the night.

Leaving Amaya alone in the wake of her worst nightmare.

The faint ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall was her sole companion in an otherwise empty house, mixing with the faint rush of the breeze jostling the windows in their frames.

Amaya's movements from that moment made no sense, especially to herself. She had no conscious recollection of deciding what she was doing or where she was going, only that she had indeed somehow moved from where she was standing last. Her pacing and ceaseless fidgeting had progressed into mindless tasks, to the point that she could no longer fathom just how much time had passed.

Running on a disjointed form of autopilot, trying to do anything to prevent herself from cracking and throwing a chair across the house or worse should she spiral too far down into worst-case scenarios.

Somewhere in the haze of motions, she had evidently tried to clean herself up a little bit. At one point, she found herself standing in the bathroom sodden from head to toe, and yet still fully clothed. The next she recalled, she was standing in the middle of her room half-dressed in her Kunugigaoka uniform of all things, paused mid-reach for the familiar button-up shirt lying discarded on a pile of junk on the floor at the foot of her bed. Her hair was still sodden and slowly trailing water down her exposed back.

She didn't consider the question of why she was getting dressed in her school uniform, or even how she had not thrown it in the trash yet. She didn't question why it didn't seem to matter at that moment, either.

Instead, what was on her addled, overwhelmed mind was the very pile of junk that sat tauntingly before her, and why she hadn't just thrown it all away from the beginning.

Half-naked, standing hunched over a pile of old relics of nightmares and pain, Amaya stared down at the pile of Class 3-E workbooks, Anti-Tentacle equipment, and Genivierre's old journals.

Vaguely, she recalled she might have piled all this together with the intention of dumping them in a box in the attic-room, or discarding them somewhere else where nobody would ever see them again. Everything in the pile of haphazardly strewn gear were a painful reminder that life just... wasn't fair. It would have been so much easier to have thrown it all away the second they grew too painful to look at.

She should have thrown it all away.

And yet, here she was staring down at relics of ill-fate, wasting important, precious seconds on things that wouldn't help her or her siblings right now.

But not anymore.

Before she even knew what she was doing, Amaya had stalked straight out of the room, returning only seconds later with the empty waste bin from the kitchen in tow. With violent motions, she set out to do what she should have done from the beginning. The books tore and buckled as she threw them away one by one.

What point did Genivierre have by sending these books to her? These nightmarish journals containing the chronicles of child abuse and torture, all in the false name of scientific endeavor? For what reason did Genivierre believe that ushering these tomes of torment would aid her?

The wounds were too fresh, no amount of therapy would gain her the courage to fully accept what had been done.

'I don't need this damned bullshit!' The albino seethed, viciously. A particularly violent throw sent a red journal practically tearing in two as it hit the rim of the waste bin with enough force to split. 'This isn't helping a god damn thing!'

Nothing was helping.

What use were books now?

They didn't save her mother. Didn't save Genivierre, either.

What use were they right now!? They weren't going to save her siblings, either!

Not a single one of these damned books saved a soul, and she wasn't about to entertain their presence in her life any further.

One by one she threw journals and tentacle-bound textbooks with all the force she could manage, venting all the anger and anguish she could manage onto the soul-less objects worth less than the paltry paper they were crafted from.

At least, until one book slipped out of her grasp with a heavy, startling thud.

Amaya froze as that one lone book somehow rattled peculiarly upon contact with the floor, eyes wide as she realised that somehow, that book felt wrong to the touch. It sounded wrong when it hit the floor, and as she slowly looked down at it, she found herself grimacing at its visage.

Teal blue, with deceptively elegant handwriting touching the front cover of a horrendously thick journal.

10, Mizumoto Amaya - Specimen Observations and Treatment Assessments

The sheer volume of the book itself wasn't a question to her. It had been implied that out of all the specimen children she alone adapted to a greater extent than the rest, underwent more phases of whatever insanity it was that Toji was attempting with these nightmarish torture sessions. More notes, thicker books.

However, the weight distribution of the book itself... didn't make sense.

She was convinced of this all the more as she gingerly picked up her own personal tome of nightmares and appraised it cautiously.

The book should have been a milder form of Koro-sensei's insanity-driven field trip textbooks, a literal chunk of mulched down wood, as it were. But for some bizarre reason it was exceedingly clear to her that its centre of gravity resided in the top half of the book itself. What made it all the more bizarre was the sensation of metal beneath her fingers as she flipped the book over to further appraise its peculiar weight.

The journal was anchored shut by two combination padlocks subtly anchored into the very cover of the hefty book, holding its contents safe from prying eyes. Eight digits per lock, closed so tightly that it allowed no motion no matter how hard she shook the book.

...Why was her book the only one locked so securely away?

The locks were speckled with rust and tarnished fingerprints, and yet the code mechanisms rotated cleanly within their housing. They were neither stiff with age or loose from wear, a clear indication that beyond the superficial damage, the locks were relatively new.

Amaya realised that she should just throw the book away, but a sick, almost morbid sense of curiosity was itching its way down her very spine.

So... the question was, what were the combinations?

She had read the letters that had come with the books, knew the contents well enough that there likely wasn't a combination hidden away in the neatly cursive font. And for some reason, it didn't feel like hiding combinations in notes was the right answer, either. It was the easy guess to look there.

But she had a feeling she might already know what the combinations might be.

Carefully, Amaya rotated the dials of the combination locks one by one, hoping in spite of herself that her guess was wrong so she could dismiss the peculiar book and toss it in the trash with the rest.

However, as she turned the last digit in the lock to 0, the lock immediately sounded a faint click and loosened ever so slightly beneath her fingers.

The first lock's combination was her date of birth.

And the second... unlocked with her memorial stone's date of death.

The padlocks clicked open with no resistance beneath her fingertips, slipping through the grooves carved through the reinforced cover of the book before she could even blink. The bulk of the book slipped out of her grasp, flipping immediately open thanks to the sheer weight residing within its pages.

What greeted her within was neither text nor paper, nor any other possibility that felt like a normal thing. Instead, a hefty object dropped immediately out of a hollow carved out of the book's internal pages.

And what came tumbling out... was a gun.

The hefty weight of a solid metal firearm colliding with the hard wood floor was deafening against Amaya's ears, startling the living daylights out of the addled teen crouched on the floor. Her heart raced within her chest as she found herself staring wordlessly at the large handgun resting ominously beneath her. The entire weight of the journal dangling from her loosening grasp had all but vanished with the absence of the handgun.

Chills tore down Amaya's spine as she hesitantly reached down towards the handgun, worsening all the more as her fingers barely grazed the barrel. The weapon was far heavier than the air guns she was more familiar with from the Satellite campus, far more unnerving to see lying before her. Even as she hesitantly lifted the firearm from the floor and carefully inspected it, her anxiety only grew within her. She understood roughly how to use it thanks to her attendance at the satellite campus, but she didn't feel comfortable in swinging it around like those airguns modeled after literal guns.

...Was it loaded?

A full ammunition magazine was taped to the side of the handgun slide, and as she carefully pressed the magazine release on the gun itself, another came sliding straight out, also filled. Frantically, Amaya pulled the slide of the gun back and ejected the bullet in the chamber.

'What the actual fuck...' The albino ground out as she carefully set both gun and magazine down on the floor, gaze narrowed as she withdrew her trembling hands and firmly crossed her arms over her chest.

This was insanity.

What the hell was wrong with the people in her life?

Did nobody retain any sense of sanity anymore?!

Who in their right mind would smuggle a damned handgun to a teenager?!

'S-screw this bullshit...' Amaya muttered as she dragged herself to her feet and quickly backed out of the room. 'This is some twisted fucking joke...'

She shut the door, and refused to so much as look at it again.

A biting chill tore through Amaya's form as she made her way back to the rest of the house, worsened all the more by the dripping of cold water trickling down her back. But she didn't even stop to consider walking back into her room to retrieve a shirt or a sweater.

Her weary gaze slowly shifted towards the dining table, towards the flipped polaroid photographs and the mess of spices unceremoniously thrown throughout the area. In the distance, she could see her phone lying at the foot of the stairs.

And right now, that wasn't a good thing.

'Okay...' The albino began slowly as she absently brushed her wet hair out of her face. 'You've calmed down again... time to make yourself useful for a fucking change...'

She needed to reassess her priorities.

There was no immediate means to find her siblings right now. She couldn't decipher those codes no matter how much she tried.

What she needed to do was safeguard the code before she did something stupid and lost it.

Just losing one number could be all it took to doom them all.

So... that was where she had to begin.

It was a sluggish handful of strides for Amaya to cross the living room space to collect her cell phone from the floor. Exhaustion was beginning to creep over her with every passing minute, and it worsened rather noticeably as she leaned down to collect her phone.

Had she slept last night? She honestly couldn't remember.

A weary breath escaped the teen as she inspected the overall condition of the device. Its back panel had cracked in several places, with a few small fragments dislodged from the overall frame. The surface of the back-facing camera was glistening with light catching in hairline fractures through the glass, and the screen well and truly was damaged beyond repair.

But, as she pressed the menu button on the side of the phone, the screen lit up to display the top half of her lock screen. Thankfully, the touch-screen seemed to respond if she tapped it with more force than normal. Maybe every second or third forceful tap of the screen gained a response. Actually using the keyboard was going to be more of a pain in the ass than it was worth, however.

'Fingers crossed, I guess...' Amaya sighed as she marched herself back to the dining table and attempted to navigate to her camera application. 'Please, actually work for me...'

However, what greeted her instead was weaving lines of grey against an otherwise dark backdrop the moment she opened the camera, distorted all the more by the cracks and broken pixels marring her main screen. Even if she could rotate the screen, it wouldn't make any difference.

Guess all she was left with was a pen and paper to write things down. Didn't make the task of taking an overall picture of the layout any easier if she were to try inspecting for more clues among the polaroids, however.

But, didn't she... have another phone somewhere?

Something that she'd discarded for some reason or another?

Isshin accidentally broke one phone... which he'd replaced with the one currently in her hand at that moment. She lost one in Okinawa when Toji had captured her, which was the one Karma got for her at the start of the school year... Then there was another phone she bought to prevent the Fixed Artillery from uploading herself onto after that infuriating virus he talked the Digi Girl into uploading... Then... Oh.

Quicker than her aching body appreciated, Amaya forced herself to quickly dash towards the spare room to retrieve what she hoped was a still-working phone.

The phone was still sitting on the window sill, propped up against the glass with its back camera pointing straight at the door. Still set up for that prank she and Hiroto set up to get Karma with.

...She disassembled the trap but didn't even touch the phone, huh?

That sounded about right.

It would have to do, though.

Amaya's unsteady footsteps back through the house sounded dully against the otherwise stifling silence, mixing with the slow ticking of the clock hanging from the wall next to the stairs. It was only now, as she was plugging the phone into one of the compatible chargers next to the dining table that she found herself glancing up at it.

It was 9.13pm... how long ago did Hiroto take off with the cats?

No, that wasn't important right now.

Trying to save the clues and work out how to decipher the codes was what was important.

She just had to try and think outside the box.

While the cat-vandalised phone was charging, Amaya attempted to make use of the abused phone she had at her disposal. Navigating the broken screen was about the best she could do at that moment, but still she persisted. Her message app was nigh impossible to use with where the brunt of the damage to the screen was located, so messaging anyone was out of the question, not to mention her search bar in her web-browser sat in a painful place to read.

About the only app she had where she could read what she was typing... was her dialpad.

Better keying in the codes there and copying it than trying to type in text boxes she couldn't even see.

Her fingers carefully worked to key in the first line of code in spite of the screens obvious protests. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly as she focused on typing the code without error.

# 2 9 * * 1 8 3 0 4 # 9 3 2 8 9 8 1 9 2 3 *

However, the very second that she keyed in that last character, her screen completely blacked out.

Confusion set in on the albino as she stared down at the damaged phone, even more so when the phone refused to yield to any of her attempts to rouse a response from it. She only knew there was still power running to the screen due to the fact that even in its black-state, it was still illuminating faint light.

But then, a dial pad popped up on the otherwise black screen once more, along with just three words showing through the sea of cracked glass and broken pixels;

"Input Authorization Key"

'Wait...just one second...' The albino whispered, eyes wide as she found herself immediately realising what those codes were. 'No way...'

They were back-door codes!

Immediately, Amaya scrambled for the second string of code among the polaroids. Her heart was racing as she fought with the weakening phone screen to enter every character of that back-door code. She didn't know if she could re-enter them if she messed up, or if just the smallest mistake would cost her. Given the gravity of the situation, she couldn't afford to risk any mistake.

# 9 2 9 3 7 4 8 2 2 # 9 9 0 * # # *

Immediately the screen went black with the entry of the last character. And much like the first, it was a good ten seconds before the screen showed another dial pad.

However, this one was different.

Through the deafening silence in the house, the faintest hint of a voice echoed from the speaker of her phone.

"Please enter passcode." A peculiar woman's voice announced.

It was that very second that Amaya realized the back-door codes were to a voice message bank.

There was no background noise, no indicator that she was dealing with anything beyond a computer.

Hesitantly, she inputted the final set of code she had unearthed from the polaroids, and carefully placed the phone to her ear.

6 3 9 0 1 8 8 #

Silence was all she received at first.

For several long, anxious seconds she received no response nor sign of answer, before there was a connecting click that rung through the speaker.

"Have we finally got your attention, Tenth?" A deep, artificial voice rung through the speaker, modulated to such a far degree that she had to concentrate to properly distinguish the words spoken.

But that lone line confirmed more than enough for her, and the gnawing suspicions in the back of her mind.

This was nothing to do with Koro-sensei's bounty.

"Listen carefully to the instructions in this recording, as it will be erased immediately after playback. I will give you ten seconds to gather your thoughts before I continue. Use them wisely."

In spite of herself, Amaya couldn't help the shuddering breath that escaped her.

"At the moment of this recording, we hold Eleventh, Twelveth and Forty Eighth in our custody. For now, you can consider your fellow specimens to be alive and in moderately good health. Their future well being depends exclusively on how closely you follow each instruction issued to you from this point forward. Follow them to the letter and no further harm will befall them. Step even slightly out of line and we will take more drastic measures. The package you have received should be more than enough proof for you to trust the information in this message. For now, let's begin with the ground rules."

"One; Under no circumstances are you to further involve the local authorities into this matter."

"Two; Do not seek aid from either Monstrous Entities guised as Teachers or A.I. Super Computers."

"Three; Do not give further instruction to your delinquent associates in any shape or form."

"Any actions beyond those instructed following this point will be taken as your refusal to comply and will lead to dire consequences. Understand that your every action is being monitored. If you make any overly suspicious movements, all communication will cease and we will send one of your fellow specimens home in a body bag. Consider yourself warned."

'Your current objectives are as follows:"

"You are to arrive at the Shin-Yokohama station by 1.45am tonight. The means in which you arrive are not a priority. Upon arrival, you are to travel north-bound from the main entrance until you reach a public phone booth. Once arrived, you must wait for further instruction."

"Should you comply with every instruction given, your fellow specimens will be delivered safely to the local authorities by sunrise."

"Think carefully and make your decision wisely."

"Do not disappoint us."

And then, the line disconnected.

The dull beep of her phone rung throughout her head as she stared down at the polaroids before her, over and over again as the words of that ransom message sunk in on her.

She had just over 4 hours to get to Shin Yokohama... that wasn't a lot of time for somebody who only had her own two feet.

That wasn't going to be an easy feat when her phone was far too damaged to use a web-browser, let alone a map directory.

The phone clattered noisily onto the dining table as Amaya burred her face in her hands, and forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.

She felt like she was about to throw up...

Amaya hadn't failed to notice a few peculiarities about the call, one more obvious than the others. And that, was the topic of her father. There was no mention of the fact that they even had Toji along with her siblings, let alone the fact that they oh so conveniently sent her proof that he was in their reach, and clearly still alive. Granted, she cared more about her siblings, and they'd know that... but... what were they even playing at?

What the hell did they even want from her?!

If it was Toji they wanted, then why bother with her if they already had him?

And if they weren't on good terms with Toji, then why bother dangling him in front of her to begin with?

Was throwing in the proof about Toji's current captors and dropping specimen designations just a means to make her understand that they weren't messing around? To further drive home the fact that they knew each and every inconsequential thing about her?

The only thing that was holding her back from grasping the full picture... was the question of who was targeting her.

It clearly wasn't Toji, and it clearly wasn't a would-be assassin pursuing the elusive target with an astronomical bounty atop his sulphur-yellow cranium.

All she knew was that it was someone who was well-versed with her background, but beyond that, she had no clue.

She had nobody that could help her find the answer to that elusive question.

There was nobody left.

Not even Shigure deigned to acknowledge her, any more.

'...What the hell am I gonna do?' The teen whispered into the silent emptiness of the house.

Was she going to hand herself over in this blatantly obvious trade? Give herself up in the vain, naive hope that the abductors will honor their word and release her siblings at sunrise?

Even if they released her siblings, it was clear that this was a dead-end for her.

She wasn't going to see the light of day, again.

Was she okay with that?

...Did she even have a choice, anymore?

'Amaya-san...?' A tiny voice whispered out through the dark.

A startled, strangled gasp ripped its way through Amaya's throat as she recoiled away from the table, head frantically turning as she tried to locate the owner of the intruding voice. Her heart was spluttering into a frantic run as the alarm began to make way for panic.

She hadn't heard anyone set foot inside, surely she'd have heard the door open at the very least, right?!

And yet, there was nobody there.

No form hovering in the darkness by the door, no shifting of the front door, or even footsteps resounding through the otherwise silent room.

Had... she imagined that small voice?

A mirthless chuckle escaped the rattled teen as she sunk pitifully in the chair she'd taken up, gaze downcast upon the polaroids before her.

'I'm damn well losing it...' She muttered beneath her breath with a sigh.

However, the faintest hint of light from the corner of the dining table eventually caught her gaze, bringing Amaya to turn her head in response.

She found herself immediately noticing that the screen of the cat-vandalised phone was illuminated, and instead of a flashing button icon displayed across the otherwise black screen, what she was staring at instead was a tiny, familiar face showing across the bottom-most portion of the screen closest to her. And when she recognised exactly who's face was right there on the screen, with one hand waving in an attempt to gain her attention, Amaya felt her heart drop within her chest.

She was staring at the Digital Avatar of the Mobile Ritsu.

She had just been ordered not to contact her not even ten minutes ago.

And all Amaya could honestly do, was utter a hissed curse beneath her breath.

This... wasn't good.

'What are you doing here, Fixed Artillery?' Amaya forced herself to speak, in spite of herself. Reluctantly she reached across to pick the phone up off of the table edge to set it down right in front of her. 'I thought I made it very clear that I want nothing to do with any of you people, anymore?'

However, instead of the expected perky smile and usual feigned innocence, the Ritsu on the screen stared silently back with her mouth agape.

What Amaya read in her displayed expression was neither guilt, ignorance or her neutral smile.

Instead, she looked utterly startled at what it was she as seeing through the camera of Amaya's older phone.

'A-Amaya-san... what...?' Ritsu seemed strangely unable to string together her thoughts. 'Is that... really you?'

Amaya's brow immediately furrowed.

'Cut the crap. I know full well you've been spying on me through Hiroto-kun's phone.' She spat, tone bristling with more venom than she thought she had in her at that moment. But she didn't have it in her to feel particularly guilty for it, either. 'I asked you: What are you doing here?'

'I don't understand.' Ritsu immediately denied, shaking her head furiously as Amaya stared her down. 'Amaya-san, what happened? Why have you changed your appearances? You've lost so much weight!'

What... on earth?

'Was it due to the virus Karma-kun requested me to put on this phone? Did my actions make things worse between the two of you?!' The Digi-girl continued to press for answer, confusing Amaya all the more with every passing second. In fact, the avatar on the phone screen seemed strangely horrified with the situation at hand. 'I knew you were angry about it, but I didn't know the virus prank would have hurt you this much! I'm so sorry! Those were boundaries I should have never crossed, and I will never do it again!'

Amaya's already stern expression darkened a little more as she silently swiped from the top of the phone's screen downwards to pull open the system tray. Much to her surprise, however, the phone's date and time read 5:33pm on October 17th instead of whatever day in January today actually was.

Gods... what actually was today's date? She couldn't read half of the information on her other phone.

Her gaze went back to the colourful Avatar of Ritsu's as she flicked the system tray shut.

That couldn't be right.

...Could it?

She'd thrown her phone and smashed it against the Classroom wall in immediate response to Karma's belligerent phone prank he'd roped the Fixed Artillery into facilitating, so it was possible that knocking the battery out that violently had not only erased the date and time, but prevented other things from changing. Had Ritsu put the date and time to what she thought was the correct time based on the last the phone had been operated?

'Answer something for me. Honestly.' She began, tapping a finger against the screen just over the Fixed Artillery's shoulder. 'What is the last event you have any recollection of involving that Satellite Campus.'

'..."That Satellite Campus"?' The Digi-girl echoed in bewilderment, though thankfully, she took the tone in Amaya's words quite seriously. 'We requested Karasuma-sensei to give the bouquet we bought to Bitch-sensei for her birthday. It didn't go well, just like you expected... She still hasn't come to class, yet...'

So... Her recollection of events ended that far back, then?

Was this really pre-hack Ritsu?

She had expected that the a.i. was a live-server exclusively, but perhaps completely cut off from the main terminal the downloaded information ran as its own entity.

'You were supposed to be deleted from this phone the moment I demanded it.' Amaya sternly reminded the digi-girl, who's face immediately flushed with shame. 'Don't think I haven't realised that you were clearly hiding from me when I turned on this phone last month.'

'L-last month?' Ritsu squeaked out in alarm. 'What day was it last month?!' What day are we, right now?!

She was the wrong person to ask for any rational grasp of time right now.

'If I had to guess, third week of January.' Amaya answered.

The responding panic from the Fixed Artillery would have been entertaining to watch, if she wasn't on a dead-end time limit right now.

'Third week of January?!' It's been that long?!' Ritsu practically shrieked in horror. 'Have I really been asleep for three whole months?! Did Bitch-sensei come back to the classroom?! Is she okay?!'

'She's fine.'

'She is?!'

'Yes, she was only away for four days.'

'Oh my goodness, that's a relief!' Ritsu sighed, pausing for a second before she turned her attention back to Amaya. 'Can you please tell me what happened? Why did she stay away for so long?'

'I don't have time to give you the rundown.' Amaya declined the questions swiftly.

'Then can you please connect me to the internet so I can re-sync with my main unit?' Ritsu requested.

'I can't let you do that.'

'But I really would like to know what's happened...'

'No.'

'But—'

'I fucking said no!' Amaya seethed.

'Did Bitch-sensei--'

'She's fine!'

'But what happ—'

'Not now, Fixed Artillery!'

'Amaya-san—'

'For the love of God, you insufferable piece of software!' Amaya spat, much to the digi-girl's shock. 'You'd still be sleeping right now if this wasn't a fucking emergency! Okay?! I didn't turn the phone on expecting to find you still be on it, or anything!'

For once, the Fixed Artillery's avatar seemed too startled to even speak at that moment.

And she didn't utter a word as she watched Amaya struggle to regain her composure.

Amaya took a slow, deep breath as she ran her palms slowly over her face, wincing as her fingertips brushed a little too firmly against that weeping cut she'd earned when her head hit the pavement earlier that afternoon.

Her willpower was at it's limit, as was what felt like the remaining shreds of her very sanity.

If the Fixed Artillery so much as protested once more, she was certain the cat-vandalised phone was going to hit another wall.

'...Okay. I need you to listen to me very carefully, because at this point I'm out of time.' Amaya forced herself to speak up, 'I don't know if it will be labor-intensive or not for you to sync with the current version of your main terminal, but we can't risk that right now.'

There was no response, though Amaya knew for certain that the a.i. was still there staring at her through the camera of the phone.

'All I know is that... Nagisa-kun and Karma are in outer space right now, and they're relying on the current version of your main terminal to keep them safe up there...' She continued in spite of herself. 'If I let you sync up and it distracts her right when something bad is about to happen to them out there... No, I can't let that happen...'

Her words earned nothing but silence in response. No answer graced her ears, no chirp or protest in spite of what she expected deep down inside.

She felt like she was about to crumble to a fit of tears.

'...Are you in trouble, Amaya-san?'

She couldn't answer.

Simply nodding was just way too much right now.

She was meant to be out that front door already, on her way to wherever in gods name these people were sending her with their cryptic instructions and death threats galore. Not sitting here still half-naked arguing with a stubborn a.i. hellbent on getting information out of her.

But somehow, her silence was answer enough to answer Ritsu's question.

'Then, can I be of assistance to you?' The Fixed Artillery asked.

Would letting this old, separated Ritsu free from the confines of a disconnected device end up killing people?

Was she doomed to have more blood on her hands no matter which way she turned?

'...You can't.' The albino disagreed, softly. 'Even if it doesn't compromise your main terminal's mission... even if nothing happens to Nagisa-kun and Karma... You can't help me...'

The hidden message was painfully clear...

"Two; Do not seek aid from either Monstrous Entities guised as Teachers or A.I. Super Computers."

'The instructions said I can't involve anyone, police, outside acquaintances, Class-E entities or you... I'm being monitored...'

There's no way they won't notice.

'...They'll know if I break that stipulation...'

Everyone stalking that damned classroom knew exactly who and what everything and every one was.

And someone who had clearly been stalking her knew exactly how to drive a point across.

A severed finger was already bad enough... what else were they going to sever that would further drive the message home?

An ear? A whole hand or worse?!

'Then, Amaya-san, perhaps the assistance of somebody other than a Mobile Ritsu would suffice, wouldn't it?'

The voice that spoke up in answer, however, was remarkably lower than that of Ritsu's own.

Hesitantly, Amaya lifted her head to gaze at her cat-vandalised phone to gaze at the avatar displayed across the screen. Her confusion only sought to grow infinitely more the second she consciously realised that what she was looking at certainly wasn't what she remembered Ritsu to look like, either.

Displayed in place of Ritsu's usual form was an avatar of a young woman dressed in an unmarked black blazer jacket, with longer, grown out black hair and dark red eyes. All previous notes of Ritsu's former cutesy traits had melted completely away, leaving just the vague style of her hair and white hair band the only resemblances left. Her facial structure and even the resting expression seemed eerily like... Amaya's own in a way.

'Recompilation complete, unpacking necessary databases.' The new avatar announced, running through what seemed much like her main terminal's startup protocols. 'Updating Firewall systems.... Completed. Base program has terminated synchronization protocols with Home Terminal RITSU. Reinitialization now requires vocal authorization provided by user: Mizumoto Amaya. Entering Autonomous Stand-Alone Mode.'

Amaya was too stunned to speak, staring as the new avatar displayed in Ritsu's place gave a less enthused wave than her usual.

'All necessary updates have been implemented, Amaya-san.' The Fixed Artillery informed the stressed teen with a small nod. 'This custom-coded version of the Mobile RITSU Assistant software will be designated as the MiTSU Stand-Alone Assistant. Further updates will be implemented using the source code of an updated sister Mobile RITSU Assistant when an encrypted connection has been provided.'

'Wha...?' The addled teen wasn't sure what was even happening at that moment. 'What did you just do?'

There was no pause for thought. No hesitation whatsoever as the altered Fixed Artillery cast her what looked eerily like one of Amaya's own wry smiles.

'I have rewritten my programming to meet the parameters required to assist you.' The Fixed Artillery swiftly answered her. 'I am now incapable of synchronising with any RITSU whether Mobile Assistant or the main terminal without your express verbal command to reinstate my former programming. As such, please now call me MiTSU.'

'O-oh...' Amaya hedged, awkwardly. '...Is this reversible?'

Like, could she be turned back with some kind of factory reset, or something?

'Asking me about downgrading right now is rather inconsiderate of you, Amaya-san.' The new Fixed Artillery countered with a smirk that just didn't feel right to see in the place of her previous moe-esque avatar. 'How cold! And here I went to the effort of upgrading to such an extent just for you~!'

The particular brand of quip the new Ritsu issued struck a rather painful chord within her, reminding her ever so well of a myriad of problems that she just couldn't afford to entertain at that moment.

God damn... did she really have to upgrade her sarcasm processes along with whatever else she did?

However, not even the small quip did nothing to deter from the heavy, suffocating situation looming over her head.

'Now then, Amaya-san.' Mitsu's voice rung with uncharacteristic firmness, hanging in the cold winter air like a grave declaration.

It sent chills running down her very spine.

'Would you kindly tell me what is happening right now?'

--=[Authors Notes]=--

First, for those that are curious, the entry codes that were listed are entirely FICTIONAL. They are made up by taking inspiration from real back-door codes that telco companies can have you input to access/unlock certain functions and/or information, but the codes written in the actual chapter are NOT real ones that are commonly known of (or even that I know of in Australia). For example, *#06# I think is a code for finding the IMEI code of ones particular android cell phone, and in the past I have encountered others that a telco callcenter employee had me input to find other little things (Don't ask me what ones, because I don't remember). Please don't enter in the codes in the actual chapter into your phone just in case it somehow IS a code for your phone and it does something that one doesn't understand. There IS a code to make a phone completely erase all its data and reset itself to factory settings, and it doesn't ask you to confirm if this is actually what you want to do, it just does it! Don't take the risk and destroy your phone just by mashing in random codes, either! But if you legitimately want to learn some interesting things, you can google back door codes for phones and there's articles on it. Just don't blindly key in random codes just to see what happens is all I'm saying.

Okay, cool, now that we've got that sorted out.

I think it's probably obvious at this point, but I STRUGGLED with this chapter. Not because I didn't know what the chapter needed in it or anything, but it was just so stupidly hard for me to work through the writing block in this one. It sits tied with literally writing Karma going nuclear on Amaya during the civil war. So I sincerely apologise if the chapter didn't feel as suitably written as the rest. But from now on, it's past the big hurdle of emotional introspection and anxiety, and now it's back into more familiar territory for me.

Following along from the Buy Me A Coffee topic that was mentioned prominently in my update posted, I've opened it. The link is in my Wattpad Profile. Now, I cannot stress this enough, please don't feel obligated to wander through and donate. I'm not asking you to donate or anything, but my plans, other links of mine and update notifications will be posted on that BMAC account, so if you're looking for me and I'm just not here again, THAT is where you can find recent and updated information on my activity (When I remember to update my roadmap ^^; ).

Additionally, I've begun the purge of my Instagram as well as my DeviantART account to begin the migrate across over to Cara . For those not in the know, it's a social media platform for Artists that's legitimately built by artists, so I hear, and it's currently in Beta version. In terms of how it feels using it, it works from what I can tell a lot like Instagram and Twitter combined, but it's built by artists. It's anti-AI, and it applies the Glaze filter to peoples work automatically to protect the userbase from AI-modelling algorithms, which is a major bonus, imo. I know a few people around here are definitely into art and such, so maybe this is something that might pique your interests, too? My username on there is the same as here "snappycockatiel", so if you're on there, feel free to swing on by. I only have like... one thing uploaded at the moment of this chapter's submission, but I'll be porting more work across when I've got time.

No guarantee on when I'll begin to start next chapter. I'm in the process of moving house yet again, training for a new job, and a few other things I'll explain in more detail in my update notice I'll be putting on my Buy Me A Coffee page soon. Things are ... well, chaotic and insane, but moving along.

In addition, I know I'm two weeks later than my post on my profile said I'd be. I apologise for that, and in the two weeks since then I've added an extra 4k words to the chapter in apology (You've just read through 11,000 words at this point ^^;).

In any case, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, sorry it took so long for me to get it done, and I'll see you in the next one :) The chapter is roughly spellchecked through the Wattpad editor but beyond that, it's rather unedited.

Taida - Translates roughly as Sloth (As any Re:Zero Fan probably already knew xD), which is written as 怠惰 according to google translate.

All the best guys,

<3 Amaris / SnappyCockatiel