The rain had finally stopped.
Tokyo's skyline shimmered with reflections from last night's storm, the streets slick with scattered moonlight. Inside his dim apartment, Nagisa Shiota sat at his desk—hair damp, eyes hollow, a small flash drive gleaming faintly before him.
The same drive he'd stolen from UMA 8907.
He hadn't slept. His body screamed for rest, but his mind refused to stop. The battle, the infiltration, the memories—they all played like ghosts in his head. And now, those ghosts had led him here.
Hakumura lay unconscious on the couch, still recovering from the wounds and the exhaustion of their escape. His breathing was shallow but steady. For the first time in years, Nagisa found himself listening to another person's heartbeat just to remind himself he wasn't entirely alone.
He turned to the drive.
Plugging it in felt like lighting a fuse.
The computer screen flickered to life—cold, sterile blue light cutting through the dark. Lines of encrypted data poured across it, glowing like an alien language. He began decoding, bypassing protocols with the same patience he once used to teach troubled students. Every click felt like peeling away layers of humanity's rot.
The Data Unfolds
The first files were labeled "PROJECT U-CLUSTER", followed by serial numbers and cryptic shorthand: Subject Assimilation Trials, Neuro-Weapon Synchronization, Behavioral Reconditioning.
Nagisa's breath caught as images loaded—dozens of human subjects, hooked to machines, their eyes wide open, pupils dilated with fear and resignation. Some were scarred. Some barely human. Their files marked them as "failed subjects."
Then came a name that made him freeze.
Subject 03-K: Koro-Type Genome (Recombinant Successor) Status: Partial Stability AchievedCore Origin: Unverified Source – Traces of antimatter adaptation…
Nagisa's heart constricted. He could hear Koro-sensei's voice echo softly through memory:
"If humanity wishes to improve, Nagisa, make sure they don't lose their heart doing it."
He whispered aloud, voice trembling: "Sensei… they didn't listen."
The next folder was labeled "Instructor Archive." It contained names—familiar ones. Shiota, Nagisa. Akabane, Karma. Kayano, Kaede. The screen filled with notes, surveillance files, even behavioral analysis from years ago—collected without their consent, long after graduation.
UMA 8907 had been watching them.
Nagisa's pulse quickened. His old life—the one he thought he'd buried—wasn't buried at all. It had been dissected, monitored, weaponized.
They called it The Karma Project. A subprogram designed to replicate the teaching and assassination hybrid method of Class 3-E as a "Behavioral Engineering Template. "They weren't just cloning Koro-sensei—they were trying to clone the bond between teacher and student, the manipulative control of empathy itself. To achieve further bounds in science.
The Drive Fights Back
Nagisa leaned closer, eyes scanning code, desperate to uncover more.But then the cursor froze.
A single line of red text appeared at the bottom corner:
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED. SECURITY WIPE INITIATED.
Nagisa's stomach dropped.He frantically tried to copy files, drag folders, save fragments—but the system was erasing everything, one sector at a time. He slammed commands, overriding protocols, trying every trick in his mental arsenal.
But no matter what he did, the deletion continued.
The files began disintegrating before his eyes. Images warped, data blurred, lines of text collapsing into static.
"Damn it—no—no—come on!" he muttered through clenched teeth.
Then another message appeared.
AUTODESTRUCT SEQUENCE: 5%... 6%... 7%.
It wasn't just erasing. It was learning—countering his every move like a living entity.
Hakumura stirred awake on the couch, groaning softly. "What's happening?"
Nagisa didn't turn. His voice was sharp, controlled. "They built a failsafe. Too much access by unauthorized agents, and it triggers a wipe. You used it before, didn't you? That's why it's unstable now."
Hakumura's eyes widened with guilt. "I… I needed to survive. I used it to get information, to stay one step ahead. I didn't know it would—"
"You didn't know," Nagisa interrupted, coldly, almost whispering to himself. "None of us ever do. That's the problem."
The files were almost gone now, vanishing like fading memories. He grabbed a notepad, scribbling down what little fragments he could salvage—coordinates, references, code phrases: "Project Chrysalis.""Division Thirteen: Kyoto Sector.""Prototype host: H-Class - humanoid recombination pending."
Just before the drive shut down, one final message blinked across the screen:
THE TEACHER MUST BE ERASED.
And then it was gone. Total blackout.
Aftermath
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Nagisa stared at the dead screen, his eflection warped in the glass. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from anger that felt centuries old. Everything they'd fought for, every lesson learned under the sunlit sky of Class 3-E, had been twisted into a machine of control.
He whispered, almost in prayer: "Koro-sensei… you believed in them. You believed we could change."He lowered his head. "Maybe it's time I stop believing—and start acting."
Hakumura sat up slowly, watching him. "You still think you can stop them?"
Nagisa turned his gaze toward him. The calm blue of his eyes was gone—replaced by something sharper, colder, yet deeply human.
"I don't think," he said softly. "I know."
The Lesson of the Ghosts
Hours passed. The morning sun filtered weakly through the curtains, painting Nagisa's room in fractured gold. The rain outside had dried, leaving the city washed clean—but inside, nothing felt clean anymore.
Nagisa sat cross-legged on the floor beside the dead computer. Around him lay notes, diagrams, and fragments of memory. In front of him was an old photograph—his class, smiling under that massive tree.
He traced the image with his finger, stopping at each face. Some were gone—accidents, illnesses, the slow erosion of time. But in his heart, they were all still here.Every one of them had shaped him.
He could almost hear their voices again—Karma's teasing laugh, Kayano's cheerful complaints, Koro-sensei's ridiculous cackle echoing across the campus.
Those echoes weren't just nostalgia—they were reminders.
Reminders that he wasn't fighting alone. That even if the world forgot, he wouldn't.
Hakumura's Confession
Hakumura broke the silence. "You should've killed me that night."
Nagisa looked up. "Why would I?"
"Because I deserve it," Hakumura said bitterly. "I've done things for UMA 8907… horrible things. People died because of me. I wasn't strong like you, Shiota. I didn't have anyone to tell me I could be better."
Nagisa stood, walking to the window. His reflection overlapped with Hakumura's in the glass—two broken people standing in different versions of the same war.
"You think I was strong because I had someone to guide me," Nagisa said quietly. "But strength isn't given, Hakumura. It's found when you stop letting guilt control you."
Hakumura laughed dryly. "Easy for you to say."
"No," Nagisa replied, his tone firm. "Not easy. Never easy. Every time I wake up, I remember the look on my teacher's face when we killed him. The pain of doing the right thing the wrong way. I've lived with that ever since."
He turned, meeting Hakumura's eyes. "So no—I won't kill you. But you're not walking away either. You're going to help me finish this. That's how you'll make peace with the ghosts."
Hakumura hesitated, searching his face. "Why do you care if I change?"
Nagisa gave a faint smile, tired but warm."Because someone once cared enough to change me."
Resolution
As dusk approached, Nagisa prepared. He packed light—a black coat, gloves, a compact blade hidden under the fabric. On the table lay the salvaged coordinates and one final note scrawled in ink:
"Division Thirteen – Kyoto Sector. Destroy everything."
He turned to Hakumura, who now stood by the door, expression uncertain but determined.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hakumura asked. "They'll kill you if they find out you've breached another facility."
Nagisa's gaze drifted toward the fading sunset. "Then I'll make sure they don't get the chance."
There was no arrogance in his voice, only calm certainty—the kind of calm that comes from accepting death as a possibility, not a fear.
Hakumura looked down. "You really are insane."
Nagisa smiled faintly. "So was my teacher."
A Teacher's Resolve
Before leaving, Nagisa stood once more before the photograph of Class 3-E. He whispered softly, as if to the air itself:
"You all taught me that being strong doesn't mean being unbreakable. It means choosing to stand, again and again, even when you've lost everything. That's the lesson I'll keep teaching."
He closed his eyes for a brief moment—and in that silence, he swore he could feel Koro-sensei's hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring.
"Nagisa… you're still learning. And that's what makes you human."
When he opened his eyes, they were wet with tears he didn't remember shedding.
He turned off the lights, left the apartment, and stepped into the night once more.
The city stretched out before him—endless, alive, filled with both beauty and corruption. Somewhere beneath its bright towers, UMA 8907 continued its experiments, continued defying the lessons Koro-sensei gave his life for.
But this time, Nagisa wouldn't stand by. He would become both teacher and weapon.A lesson for the ghosts who refused to learn.
Ending Scene
As the credits began to roll, the final shot lingered on Nagisa's empty apartment. The photograph of Class 3-E lay propped on the desk beside the dead computer. The screen flickered once, faintly—one final remnant of the erased data flashing across it:
"PROJECT CHRYSALIS – PHASE II INACTIVE." "TEACHER PROTOCOL INITIATED."
The image blinked out.The storm, it seemed, was only just beginning.
To Be Continued...