1 I Died.

It's true. You never realize how sweet life is until you die.

I admit, I was a bit of a peculiar thing, even before I died. I mostly stayed at home all day, handling guns and the like, dissecting bombs and spraying acid on the sewage pipes for fun. It was something I picked up from my dad, who picked it up during his time at the army.

Shooting shotguns, mixing powder, eating rabbit stew, well. You know how it goes.

I couldn't say that my life was perfect, it just kinda carried on. Until it ended. Of course. With absolutely no scientific explanation whatsoever. I am still unsure whether I should be glad or sad about this.

It was the day of my death. Nothing special. Just business like usual.

I checked to make sure the safety clip was in place. The pressure plates were disconnected, all the exploding chemicals were placed in different compartments and blocked from the delay attribute. The blocking trigger was fit in the landmine, it was a matter of course. I slid my hands over the table, deeply concentrating.

The familiar smell of iron and various chemicals drifted up my nose, though I barely noticed- I was used to it. I blinked, then breathed lightly through my mask.

I was particularly busy today. I picked up a beaker. Glass clinked on stone as I set it back down. I walked over to my stool and relaxed, sitting down on it comfortably. I wiped my glasses clear of dust before putting them back on.

The room was silent. Focused. I flexed my fingers. Perfect.

"Misaki!" I wrinkled my nose. I thought I had closed the door. "I'm almost getting Elian Audrey, the first prince! We're going on a date! Come see!"

"Misaki~!" It was my sister's whiny voice. To make herself heard she was shouting, and I imagined her pouty face with a devilish grin. My face immediately turned sour. A real headache, she was.

"What?" I asked absentmindedly.

She answered, but I didn't hear her words as I carefully transferred some starter fluid to a key component. The petroleum leaked tiny drops onto the table and I wiped it with a greasy cloth. Caution was key. I walked past a couple of dozen gas cans to arrange my things.

"Elian Audrey! The hardest character to get in Kingka Academy!" I heard another squeal. "He's... so hot!"

I ignored her. "I'll be there later." As long as she stays quiet.

I picked up the landmine replica on the stone table and shook it. The bomb was still too weak. Improvements were necessary. The machine gun and the hidden darts needed smokeless powder.

I picked up the pen on the table and walked over to the back of the room. There were two blackboards, deep dark green, covered with yellow sticky notes, string, lines, and papers. One was messy, one was clean. I solved a couple of equations.

I got a dead-end, just what I expected. I rolled my eyes, sarcastic. Damn it. I ripped the post-it from the board, crumpled it up, and threw it into the waste bin. I didn't act out of anger. My actions may be fast, but they weren't emotional. The first rule of science: nothing goes right the first time. I adjusted my sum and tried to find out what went wrong.

"Ahh! I forgot to add that to the..." I muttered. Eighty-six.

I called it the NK-47, or NKE-47. The 'E' stood for 'experiment'. I shuffled the powder into the case using a brush, then added some extra ingredients, tipped them in, and prepared to make some proper cartridges.

My mind was still wandering as I acted, my fingers never rested.

Excellent forging for the gun barrel, I thought proudly. The design was beautiful, and the powder... if it worked, I was a genius. I needed to add on the special functions later, such as GPS tracking, auto-shooting, and optics, which would take some time- I added on a lithium battery.

It would work. It had to work. A bead of sweat trickled down my neck. I've worked for about five years making guns, which may not seem like a lot, but it is when you realize I'm sixteen and that I've been doing this since I was eleven years old.

I set down my machine gun gently onto the stone table. It settled in with a small clicking noise. I'll continue on that later. There was still work to be done.

The darts weren't due immediately, so the landmine was my major priority. I could still keep going for a few more hours, I told myself. I took off my gloves to wipe my sweat. The action was pressuring, if I got even one strand wrong, the landmine wouldn't work properly.

"Ahh!" I heard my little sister scream. "I lost him!" I heard a slap, "And it's only been a week! Why is this game so freaking hard? Please don't friend-zone me!"

"Misaki!"

I rolled my eyes. Great, dissolving a scientist's concentration. I went over to shut the door, then closed my eyes for a few seconds to get in the mood.

It was soon night. Another scream sounded in the air. Now I was getting sure she was doing this on purpose, I thought dryly. Damned devil. I put my weapons in individual boxes and arranged all of my chemicals. Most of them were too reactive to be kept together or were illegal.

My wires went in separate boxes, so did my lead casings and bullets. The landmine was the most carefully set down, after all, it was an expensively acquired antique, and I placed it cozily inside its protective box. There wasn't even a scratch on the old pressure panel. I spread my fingers softly over it. It was cold and smooth. Relaxing.

The landmine blinked red.

I knew what that meant, but it made little sense. Was there a problem with the light adjustments? There was an explosion. I felt my face stud with broken landmine shards, but I had no time to scream.

A red fiery inferno enveloped me, and my back felt so hot I was sure I had been charred like burnt barbecue. It had to be several times hotter than burning your hands in the oven. Bang. Bang.

What was happening? That was a pointless question.

My legs trembled, I tried to run towards the door, shaking. Realization hit me. I hadn't completely organized the chemicals yet, and I knew it. The next thing that was going to happen was a chain reaction. Maybe it was already happening.

Was I going to be defeated, killed by my own weapons of war? By my own experiments? I wondered. My legs hurt so much that they wouldn't move. Or they couldn't move. My nerves screamed out, my head began to blank out. I forced my eyes not to roll back in the back of my head.

Every movement stung and hurt as if acid was being poured on my skin, as if I was being flayed alive and washed clean with saltwater. Ironic, after all those acid experiments. I choked on my spit and cried out as the crashing of glass and explosions went over my ear like so many fireworks burning me alive. I stopped moving, knowing what was to follow.

Death was inevitable. It was pointless to struggle. Even as the world slowly bled red and my body shuddered and screamed, I wouldn't close my eyes, even as they became glassy and lifeless. Even through agony, I was still me. There was no thought, there was just that one urge in my mind. I wanted to see my death.

I couldn't remember how I died. I didn't know. There was agony before death, but after it, the pain stopped. I couldn't cry or move.

It was just the end.

The world, and my mind, was strangely peaceful as I died.