The weekend after the explosion was a fever dream of planning.
The smell of gunpowder still clung to my clothes, mixed with Hana's strawberry perfume. We spent the nights in a cheap motel, lying on the dirty bed, laughing as we planned every detail.
We glued acoustic foam panels and rock wool behind all the lockers in classroom 3-B, saying it was a "physics project on thermal insulation." The teachers praised our "student initiative," unaware we were soundproofing screams.
We swapped the door lock for an identical one, but with an internal magnetic lock activated by remote control.
We installed micro-cameras in 8 spots around the room, saying it was for an "audiovisual project."
In the "physical education" backpacks stored in the back locker, we left: 4 Glock 19 pistols, 2 folding AKs, 12 extra magazines, and 6 smoke grenades.
No one suspected.
No one ever suspects the perfect students.
Sunday night, Hana laid her head on my lap in the motel room, licking a red lollipop that now tasted like dried blood.
— Monday is going to be beautiful, Satori-kun.
I smiled, stroking her purple hair.
— The most beautiful of our lives.
She looked up at me, eyes shining with that sweet madness only I understood.
— After this… the whole world will be our stage.