My fingers tremble as I unhook the cords, untie the knots, tear away the ropes, all the while keeping an eye on the monitor. Life signs stable, no big difference in heart rate. I'm scared out of my wits.

I've been a spotter a few times and am not new to unhooking people, but this is different-I'm working on someone who had been half transparent the day before and if he goes all transparent because of my unhooking I could just go jump out of the third-story window right now.

My attention shifts for a second to the windows. It being dark outside, the windows reflect the lights from inside the building as well as my own face, pale and listless and looking like I hadn't gotten any sleep all night. Which is just about right because I indeed hadn't.

It also reflects Mr. Yamada, who comes barging in out of nowhere, gun in one hand and a freaking butcher knife in another. The floor is carpeted so his footsteps are really quiet and had I not noticed the reflection I wouldn't have been able to dodge the blow coming from his knife in the nick of time. We learned all about how to dodge things in Basic Combat classes, and while I'm not a spectacular fighter dodging I can do.

I can't dodge forever, though, I realize-Mr. Yamada is no longer the huge cuddly teddy bear principal he used to be. He looks crazed, eyes bloodshot, all ready to kill.

I crouch under a desk that happens to be standing conveniently there, but it doesn't help one bit because there's no way in hell it can hide all of me and besides Mr. Yamada saw me creep inside anyway so it's not like he didn't know.

"Tomomi, my, my, Tomomi-what are we going to do with you?" He says, voice taunting. It's strange, I think, as I watch him swagger and lurch closer. It's strange how our nice darling principal has turned into a serial killer overnight.

"You're never meant to be here, you see," he murmurs, spinning the knife with his hand. "You don't belong here. You're a fluke. And tonight only proves it, sweetheart. You're not one of us... we should have seen it coming long, long ago..."

I have no idea what he's talking about, but if the fact that I'm not milling about outside like the sleepwalking zombie people nor sleeping way too deeply like my classmates proves that I'm a fluke, then I'm pretty glad that I am one.

"This is not your fault, mind you. Not your fault you don't have the talent, don't have the state of mind to believe. Not your fault, but I'm sorry-you can't live. You've seen too much."

No shit, I think, if being chased by your teachers and senpai who are holding hatchets doesn't count as seeing too much I don't know what does.

But I can't die here. Something crazy is obviously going on in this school, and I have to let the people outside know. Someone has to wake the sleepwalking teachers and students up. Someone has to wake my classmates up. I'm the only one who's unaffected here, so that someone has to be me.

Talk about pressure.

Mr. Yamada goes on. "You're the one flaw in our plan. Our perfect, perfect plan. All these students, teachers, alumni. All such skilled mindhackers. Yet so vulnerable, their minds open for us to see. We could make such a wonderful army, all those brilliant minds, working as one. And yet you, you, you-"

I scan the room, looking for a way out. Mr. Yamada is coming closer. If I can distract him and make a bolt for the door-but wait, that wouldn't work, there's a horde outside that wants my blood. Maybe, if I find a room to hide in and wait for him to go away-but no, that would require really fast and quiet running and I'm pretty sure I'm too clumsy for that. The only way to evade Mr. Yamada will be to knock him out, I realize. The problem is that he's the one with a gun and a butcher knife, not me.

Cool!

He is still muttering, talking half to himself and half to me, as he comes closer, closer. This is like one of those slasher horror movies, I recognize. And I'm going to be the poor victim who thinks she's safe hiding in a closet or something but still gets knifed by the dude wearing a ski mask.

Not cool!

I feel my pockets, grope around on the floor, looking for something, anything, that can be of use. Nothing. My jacket pockets are empty sans my elega which is kind of useless in this situation, as are my pajama pockets. Who even goes to sleep with stuff in their pockets? Too uncomfortable, no?

I briefly consider pulling off one shoe and throwing it at Mr. Yamada, but that doesn't seem plausible either because 1) I have terrible aim and 2) he still has a knife and a gun and I'm screwed.

I'm screwed. I repeat the words in my head, as the footsteps, steady and soft on the old carpet, gradually come nearer and nearer.

I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I'm screwed I'm screwed I'm screwed.

"I'm sorry it has to end this way, little girl," Mr. Yamada says, and points his gun straight between my eyes.

So screwed.

I shield my face pathetically with my arms-not like it will help-and wait for the bang that's going to end my life.

It doesn't come. Or rather it does, just in the wrong direction, missing me by a wide berth. Mr. Yamada was too focused on me to remember that there is someone else in the room and also he's no longer hooked to a fucking machine.

Yay!

Shun had caught Mr. Yamada completely by surprise, and as he was kind of dangling on Mr. Yamada's back it makes it very hard for Mr. Yamada to shoot at him since it isn't exactly physically sensible to twist your arm to aim at your own back. They eventually drop to the ground and begin to roll around in a mad brawl like in one of those action movies, Shun trying to grab the gun and knife and Mr. Yamada trying to find a way to use either of the weapons without hurting himself. It looks like a rough fight-Mr. Yamada has the advantage of being large, stocky, and holding two weapons. Shun has the advantage of being fast, nimble, younger and fitter. With one quick snatch he knocks the gun out of Mr. Yamada's hand, and it flies, landing abruptly at the feet of some machine whose function I have no idea of. I immediately pick it up, and aim-but I don't dare to fire, because for one thing I'm pretty sure I'll have lousy aim and for another Shun and Mr. Yamada are still wrestling each other and moving so fast that I don't think I can manage to hit one and not hit the other.

Mr. Yamada is impressively strong for a man his age (especially considering how he's wearing a suit which must be heck hard to fight in) and overpowers Shun the very next second. He moves slightly back so as to have space to swing the knife, but during the brief moment Shun flings himself at him again, and they begin another round of rolling on the ground like American football players.

I mean, not a lot of us play football here but at least that's what it looks like on TV.

In one swift movement Mr. Yamada has turned the tables again and is now sitting on Shun, which isn't too great because he's probably twice Shun's weight. He raises his butcher knife-

And I fire.

And miss, as expected from a dunce like me. Mr. Yamada dodges beautifully in slow motion like in The Matrix. In my defense it's not like I've ever used a real gun before, and even in simulated mindhack missions guns and me never click. Unlike Shun, guns are his best friend.

Oh.

I use the fleeting second Mr. Yamada is distracted by my terrible shot to rush at him, and because of the sheer element of surprise manage to push the heavyset man down to the ground. The gun flies out of my hand. Mr. Yamada is strong, however, way too strong for me, and shoves me to the floor (luckily it's carpeted). For one moment everything seems to be moving in slow motion. I can feel the heat radiating from Mr. Yamada's body (this sounds sexy, but it really isn't, trust me), I can smell the scent of moth balls from the ends of his coattails. From the corner of my eye I see him draw the knife, but I'm not afraid. I don't have the gun. Mr. Yamada doesn't have the gun. And therefore-

Bang!

Not a single moment of hesitation. Not even a tiny bit of a pause. As the gunshot is fired, all the instruments in my head seem to wake up suddenly, playing their own celebratory symphony.

I turn and see Shun, panting hard and staring at the gun in his shaking hand.

My crush of many years has just shot the principal and all I can hear right now is the orchestra in my head.