The pain on his back dulled after hearing what he just said. His breathing steadied slowly, but with absolute certainty, his eyes meeting Haruto.

"How did you get here?" He began.

"Oh, so now you're the questioning one. Didn't take you to be one, o Replacement Sensei."

A mocking tone, but Kize did nothing. Not yet. If he could coerce as much information as he could, now is a good time.

"......."

None of them said a word. Kize continued staring, careful for any sudden movements he could ever conjure.

And then, Haruto spoke.

"What? You think I tell you? You're smart. Use that logic filled brain of yours--"

"Beatrice."

A roll of Haruto's eyes commenced.

"Took you this long, didn't you?"

It all made sense. The targeted chemical attacks, Abydos's debt taunting him in the face... That girl who was shot in the depot's dungeon.

All his malicious actions.

"How did she know to take you?"

"Oh, Katashi, Katashi, Katashi. Your rejections? Your applications? How did you think that happened?"

Kize stopped the instinctual need to eye twitch. For four years of his attempts to find work, only to be rejected by each and every avenue given...

That was his work?

The vision of rejected emails. All saying similar things.

An apology, rejection, and subsequent wishes for the best of his future.

Suddenly, it made sense.

Even if he erased his identity, someone will find him eventually.

But in Haruto's case, his obsession made it certain that he'd always tail him at every opportunity given, be it in the online space... Or here.

With his technological expertise, it made the puzzle pieces fit too well.

"So when your online presence disappeared for a full week, oh you know I was worried for you. And then, there was Beatrice."

A chuckle left him.

"She's really hot, honestly. I'd have given her a child she'd abuse but--" he glanced at the disgusted look on Kize's face. "A deal's a deal."

"That explains why Miharu never liked you."

In a split second, he found himself back on the floor, a searing pain on his left cheek while his ear rang thoroughly. Haruto, on his end, uncurled his fist, before scoffing.

"This is between you and me, Katashi. That bitch can go die in that coffin of a train she's in."

Haruto noticed how he seemed to crawl towards the thermos. He exhaled a breath, before reaching towards him, pulling him up by the coat.

For a split second, Kize wondered how he was being pulled up. Or the more important question being...

How Haruto had more than likely been working his body up for this occasion.

He felt weightless. And then, his back was slammed against a blunt pressure on one specific spot.

A pained growl left him, writhing once again as the pain intensified. A sharp breath was taken in, followed by Haruto suddenly grabbing locks of his hair and pulling him up.

The scalp of his hair screamed at his nerves just from the sheer pain alone. Kize grit his teeth, holding it all in as he pushed himself to stand up, even as his back ached ever so painfully.

"Seriously, look at you. You're pathetic."

Kize's face was slammed back down to the floor, the entire world ringing in his ears right in that moment. The sole, painful sensation against all odds as his ears only managed to catch faintly of what he said.

"Hiding behind bureaucracy. Hiding behind kids. It's your fault, really. If you weren't here, they wouldn't have to be collateral damage. No one had to get hurt."

Kize slowly grit his teeth again, as he struggled again. His hands, jittery, yet form against the floor, slowly pushed him back to his feet.

"What did..." A wheeze left him. "You do to... Problem..."

"What? Them?" A scoff, as he turned his back to Kize like he meant nothing. After all, what's the worst he could do?

"I just made sure they know how to fear guns again."

"....." A dawning realization hit him. Haruto wasn't holding a gun at all.

But no one ever said he should have one right now.

"... You shot them."

"Keh. I only shot that girl with the coat cape. That, and that anxiety riddled fanatic of hers. Since when do you care--"

Haruto felt a force against his back, as he stumbled forward into the desks and chairs and subsequently falling onto it.

It meant nothing to him.

He turned around to meet Kize's lurched position, seeing him breathe sharply. A rare look that truly encapsulates that rare, primal moment of Kize finally showing his true colors.

An untapped rage.

"YOU FUCKING WHAT?!!"

In a burst of adrenaline, Kize, with a single hand, took hold of a desk and threw it towards the man he now so truly despised, with Haruto rolling out of the way.

"Oh, so now you're ang--"

He dodged a punch that was clearly meant to aim for his face, only for him to grab hold of his arm and slamming it against a desk.

Kize could've screamed. Instead, he gripped onto Haruto's sleeve, and, in an unexpected show of strength and an outcry for vengeance, he threw him straight into the multitudes of desks and chairs, forming a mountain of ruin caused every single pain receptor in a bewildered Haruto to be conscious of what he was going up against.

He expected Kize to get angry. To be enraged. And for four years, he made sure he went to the gym like a ritual that, even with Kize in the current state he was in, he could still take him on and win confidently.

But the single moment of Kize, in a sheer spurt of strength, threw a man who was arguably heavier than him, shook him.

"COME ON, YOU BASTARD!!"

His blind fury overtook everything that he could ever sense. How he would ever feel.

How Rio took the bullet for him and how he broke his one tenet of never shooting a gun.

And now, he broke his own tenet of never showing his care.

He didn't care. Because it was in that very moment, a man had enacted one of the most despicable crime against a minor.

Doing a reloading gesture with his left arm, the same arm that was slammed onto a desk, he took hold of one of the chair's legs and thrown it sluggishly with a scream, with Haruto picking up a desk and swatting it away before throwing said desk towards Kize.

No... This wasn't Kize.

He would've dodged it. It was easily telegraphed.

He swatted it instead.

The searing pain on his right arm felt numb, as Katashi glared towards Haruto and proceeded to tackle Haruto. He skidded to a stop, before Haruto kneed his ribcage. His grip however, remained firm, as if fully intent on decompressing Haruto.

"Let go, you stupid--" His breath left his lungs too early when his back hit the wall, before he felt Katashi pull him away from the wall, only to slam him into it again.

"Motherfu--"

Haruto proceeded to elbow Katashi's back, causing him to flinch, before ramming him against the wall again.

"Let."

An elbow wrought upon Katashi.

"Me."

Another.

"Go!"

Another.

Each attempt only caused Katashi to cling tighter, before lifting Haruto with an animalistic yell, and slamming the despicable man against the desks that cluttered upon the floor.

His vision red with an unrelenting need for vengeance, Katashi pinned Haruto against the floor, hands curled into fists, before swinging it down to his face.

Another.

And another.

Each impact felt, each impact bruising. Each time screaming bloody murder upon his instigator, until his fist was caught. And then, he blacked out for a millisecond from a fist onto his face. Enough for him to drop to the side with the skids of chairs.

Enough for a hint of clarity.

The train.

Katashi's eyes, dazed, blurred, gazed towards the Shittim Chest. One hand stretched forward, push. Another, push. Closer. Closer.

"P... Pla... Na..."

Plana's voice rang out of the Shittim Chest.

"Sensei, you are suffering bruises in the left cheek, the rhomboid major, potentially the stomach--"

"Train... Hack... Acc..."

"... Understood. Hacking any device nearby to disable jamming rigs."

"SENSEI BEHIND YOU!!"

Arona's warning came just in time. Unfortunately, Katashi was too slow to react.

His leg was grabbed and he was pulled away from the Shittim Chest. Katashi desperately clawed against the floor, only for him to feel weightless yet again.

And then, his entire body was raptured by pain.

Thrown across the room, with all the furniture in the world his painful cushion. The symphony of metal rang endlessly in the room, with Katashi laying upon it limply.

Every muscle in his body screamed at him to stop moving. His pain receptors were overloading at every possible moment, his head spinning and aching. And yet, his senses, his body, his mind.

They all resisted.

His body wouldn't submit. His heart wouldn't succumb.

And most certainly, his mind will resist.

He tried to move a finger. It answered with a twitch. With bated breath, the structure began to fall around and away from him as he began to move again.

He could faintly hear Haruto hiss.

"You're still trying, aren't you?" He wheezed out, his face battered from his punches.

Good.

Now he looked as ugly as he was rotten.

Katashi took deep breaths, fighting against his own body to slowly stand himself back up. Standing upon a flipped desk, yet his back was bent, the pain too unbearable to allow himself that capability.

"I'm not... Done with you yet," he managed out. Haruto soon let out a chuckle, as his hand slipped into his pocket, and Kize slowly prepared for the worst.

A gun?

A knife?

It was something made of steel, but then he witnessed Haruto fiddling with, seemingly splitting into three parts.

A butterfly knife. Now much more visible danger, Katashi slowly raised his arms parallel to his face, his hands clenching weakly into fists.

"Too bad. Because I am."

Katashi managed out a scowl, his eyes glancing at the thermos that had rolled to the desk he stood on. His eyes then looked back to Haruto, who made a steady approach.

He wasn't planning on dying.

He crouched quickly and threw the thermos towards Haruto, before throwing it towards him. With every energy he had left, he sprinted.

Haruto swatted the metallic bottle with one arm, the bottle slamming against the floor soon after with a violent clang. His focus went back towards Katashi, before noticing he didn't even approach him.

He turned behind him, Katashi with the Shittim Chest in hand before he ran. The thermos was quickly taken by Katashi, before he ran out of the PA room.

"Status..." He managed out, before limping into an empty classroom.

"Hacking complete. The doors are released... Sensei..."

Katashi managed out a breath.

"I'll live."

He knew he wasn't fine. He was far from it.

"Found... Others?"

"We did. Far end of the hallway."

"Prefect..."

"Perimeter secured."

"... Give them go."

Plana nodded, before an alarm blared from the outside. Katashi, now Kize, heaved a few breaths to compose himself.

"Broken ribcage, bruised muscles across the chest, left arm, back and cheek. Suggestion: Hide until Prefect Team raids."

"No time."

Kize forced himself to move again, only for his legs to wobble, subsequently causing him to fall against tumbling chairs and desks. A cacophony of metallic screams, and a dead giveaway on where he was.

And just as well, considering how Haruto stood at the doorway knife held in reverse grip.

"Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. You're done for, Katashi."

Two seconds of planning came to be. Risky, but he had to try. Kize glanced at the Shittim Chest, and then at Haruto, who proceeded to lunge at him.

His first instinct immediately after was to raise a single hand.

In mere seconds flat, sheen of metal pierced through flesh, and every single muscle screamed at him that something teared open.

Kize fought back the instinct to scream, before grabbing the Shittim Chest tightly, shoving it directly towards Haruto's windpipe. Watching as the man backed away, holding his neck while struggling to breathe, Kize proceeded to kick him away with a scream. And then, he escaped again, the knife embedded into his now bleeding hand.

"Cut..."

"No arteries or veins are cut..." Plana's voice dipped slightly. "You need medical attention."

"Not yet..."

The end of the hallway. The end of the hallway...

It should... Be there...

They... Should be there.

He stumbled, his legs praying for more strength while he leaned against the wall for support. The dripping, warm liquid on the floor was stained. Every step was a struggle, his grip on the Shittim Chest weakening while the knife scraped against the wall, the threat of widening the injury prevalent.

He could hear their voices.

"She'll make it. Our leader will," Mutsuki stated. Concern was heard.

"You'll be fine, Haruka. He didn't shoot any vitals..." Kayoko.

He heaved a few more breaths, before he managed out.

"PS... 68..."

His legs finally gave out, with him falling onto the floor. And right then, the door opened.

Gasps.

"Sensei!!"

Kayoko's exclamation was followed by both her and Mutsuki dragging his body right into the room, with a faint march of the Prefect Team reaching the second floor.

The two conscious members of PS68 were left breathless, seeing Kize in this state. A bleeding hand with a knife pierced through it, bruises on his cheek and God knows how many more beneath those clothes. The thermos he carried so often had a new dent, deeper than other one it had, and Kize was breathing in bated breath.

"Do we take out the knife?" Mutsuki asked.

"No. Keep it in. He'll bleed more if you pull it out," Kayoko replied, before glancing carefully at how they could help.

"Correct," Chinatsu called from the doorway, before approaching PS68 and the barely conscious Kize.

Aru was leaned against the wall, her shoulder bandaged, with blood seeping through it all. But she was breathing properly.

Haruka only had her thigh wrapped, the seeping blood coming from her inner thigh as she leaned against her shotgun for support.

"Sensei needs more medical attention," Kayoko proclaimed.

"So I noticed," Chinatsu acknowledged, setting down her duffle bag.

"Attention: we have arrested the man," Ako's voice could be heard.

Kize's breath softened, as everything came back to him.

He fought.

He ran.

And here he was in the end, battered, bruised, bleeding.

But won.