The morning sun cast pale rays through the classroom windows of Roxy High in Japan, but they did nothing to warm Hiro Tanaka's shoulders. At 18, with cyan hair that already made him stand out, he hunched over his desk—trying to shrink into himself like always. His worn uniform was slightly wrinkled; yesterday's bullies had shoved him into a hallway locker, and he'd been too tired to iron it last night.
No friends. No one to talk to. The thoughts looped in his head, heavy as the weight of his depression. He'd tucked the shotgun his late uncle left him deep in his bag weeks ago, never intending to touch it—just something solid to hold onto when the world felt empty. His sanity had long since frayed to nothing; each insult, each push, each moment of being ignored had worn it away piece by piece.
"Hey, freak."
Hiro flinched as a hand slammed down on his desk. It was Kenji, the class's resident bully, flanked by two of his lackeys. "Still carrying that big bag everywhere? Hiding something weird in there, aren't you?" Kenji reached for the strap, but before his fingers could touch it
A deafening SCREECH blared through every speaker in the school.
"LOCKDOWN INITIATED. ALL STUDENTS AND STAFF, SECURE YOUR LOCATIONS IMMEDIATELY. UNKNOWN HOSTILES HAVE ENTERED THE PREMISES."
Panic erupted. Students screamed and scrambled for doors; chairs toppled over. Through the window, Hiro saw something that made his blood run cold a creature with too many teeth and twisted limbs loping across the playground, tearing at the metal gate like paper.
The lock on the classroom door clicked shut as their teacher fumbled with the handle, her face pale with terror. "Everyone… get behind something solid," she whispered, voice shaking.
Hiro's hand drifted to his bag. The weight of the shotgun felt different now not heavy with sorrow, but with a grim possibility. The bullies who'd tormented him were now cowering in a corner, and the world he'd always wanted to disappear from was suddenly fighting to survive.
This is it, he thought, his fingers closing around the weapon's grip. No more running.