A Ladder

Mr. Kazuki's voice broke the tense silence of the classroom as he announced his decision to leave the school. The group's initial reaction was a mix of surprise and protest, their voices overlapping in dissent. Yet, as the weight of his words settled, their defiance softened into reluctant support, much like Isamu's earlier resolve.

All eyes shifted toward Isamu, standing uneasily in the circle they had formed. His gaze darted to the floor as though seeking refuge there. "Why are you all looking at me?" he muttered, his voice carrying an edge of exasperation.

Denji chuckled, breaking the tension. "Come on, man. We all know you're the one with the ideas."

Takumi crossed his arms and sighed, leaning against the chipped wall. "Hate to admit it, but he's right. Most of us would've been dead by now if not for you. So, genius, got any bright ideas to get us out of this hellhole?"

Isamu's lips twitched into a nervous smile. 'Hmm. I don't like that they've noticed I'm the one leading, but at least they won't try anything reckless on their own.'

He cleared his throat, voice steady despite the flutter of nerves. "Yeah, I've got something... It's a bit of a long shot, but I was thinking about building a makeshift ladder with whatever we can find. The school gate's completely overrun, so that's not an option.

But the garden wall? Less activity there. We'd need to sneak through the cafeteria to avoid the main horde, and then climb over. Only a couple of us would go with Mr. Kazuki to avoid drawing attention. It's risky, but it might work."

The group exchanged glances before nodding in quiet determination. Isamu's idea was far from perfect, but it was better than nothing.

They scattered, gathering materials—broken chairs, splintered shelves, duct tape, rope, anything that could serve as rungs or supports. The rhythmic clatter of scavenging filled the hollow corridors, echoing faintly against the high ceilings.

As they worked, frustration bubbled over each failed attempt. Wooden rungs snapped, tape gave way, and precarious stacks collapsed. Yet, bit by bit, they assembled something vaguely resembling a ladder, though its stability was questionable at best.

Standing in a cautious semicircle, they watched as Mr. Kazuki tested their creation. He stepped onto the first rung, the wood groaning ominously under his weight. His second step brought the unsettling sound of duct tape loosening.

'So far, so... ass,' Isamu thought dryly, his lips twitching in reluctant amusement. 'This thing's gonna break any second.'

The third step snapped with a sharp crack, and Mr. Kazuki stumbled back. A collective groan rippled through the group, frustration dampening their morale.

'Tough crowd,' Isamu mused, stifling a sigh. 'They can't seriously hope to survive with this pathetic attitude. If that miracle helicopter doesn't show up, I might have to go solo.'

He forced a smile and shrugged. "Hey, come on, guys. We knew this wouldn't be easy. It just needs some tweaking. Let's try again, yeah?"

Denji grinned and clapped Isamu on the back, nearly sending him stumbling forward. "That's the spirit! Not like we've got other options, right?"

"Next time, maybe use a thumbs-up instead of your giant spiker arm," Isamu muttered, flexing his sore shoulder. "You almost broke my back."

The group burst into laughter, a rare, fleeting moment of levity that caught Isamu off guard. 'What the hell are they laughing at?' he wondered, bemused.

The laughter faded as they dispersed to find more materials, and determination reignited. They toiled late into the night, refining, failing, and rebuilding until exhaustion caught up with them. One by one, they collapsed onto the cold ceramic floor, their makeshift sanctuary offering little comfort.

A distorted voice echoed faintly through Isamu's mind. "Isamu… Isamu… You'll be late for school. Wake up… Isamu!"

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. 'Mom?'

Day 6

He rolled onto his side, the hard floor pressing into his back. Memories surfaced, unbidden and painful. 'Why am I thinking about her now? I can't, I will be distracted if I'm also worrying about Mom and Dad. I can't… Was it even about them? Or does some part of me still hope this is all a dream… a dream from which I need to wake up.'

Sitting up, he raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his eyes hollow. The same pristine white ceiling stared back at him, sterile and unchanging. 'I'm so tired of waking up and seeing this clear white f**king ceiling. I'm tired of thinking of the next plan to survive another day. God is clearly punishing us by making us live through this, hell on earth. Maybe even worse since we have hope we will survive.'

He rose, careful not to disturb the others sprawled around him. Grabbing his bag, he moved toward the door.

In the next room, Astrid paced aimlessly, her eyes lifting as he entered. She smiled and waved, a small gesture that warmed the bitter chill in his chest. He returned it with a faint smile of his own.

'I guess maybe, this isn't the worst type of hell there is. I may deserve to live through this, but people like Astrid, Denji, Mr. Kazuki, Yuna, and even fatso. They didn't deserve this… I'd say the same for Takumi and the others but I don't really know them as well.'

Sliding open a door, Isamu stepped into an empty classroom, the morning sun casting long, pale shadows. He lit a joint, inhaling deeply as he leaned against the open window. The bitter smoke curled around him, blending with the chill of dawn.

The sun slowly rose and glared on his eyes.

He tilted his head away, disturbed.

But his gaze was met with something far more disturbing, his eyes widening as he saw someone he knew walking around the school, alive and well.

The joint slipped from his lips as he uttered his name to himself, his voice trembling

....

"Sato?"