Common Sense
dark heroThe police had surrounded the school.
Patrol cars blocked every road leading to the main entrance. Armed officers had taken positions behind vehicles and temporary barricades while more continued to arrive. Ambulances waited farther back, their crews standing ready beside open doors.
Yet no one moved toward the school.
They couldn’t.
This wasn’t an ordinary school.
Children of politicians, executives, diplomats, and some of the wealthiest families in the country studied inside those walls.
One wrong decision could turn a hostage situation into a national catastrophe.
So the police waited.
Negotiators tried to establish contact.
Commanders argued.
Phones rang endlessly.
Parents demanded answers no one could give them.
And above all that noise, three people sat casually on the outer wall of the school.
Their feet hung over the edge.
Police officers passed beneath them without so much as looking up.
“Do we know if Akane is safe?”
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
The person in the middle leaned backward, supporting themselves with both hands against the top of the wall.
“You’re certain?”
“Riku is with her.”
The tension disappeared almost immediately.
“Ah.”
That apparently settled the matter.
One of them looked toward the school.
“Then why are we still here?”
“Because we don’t know who did this.”
“The humans inside have guns.”
“I wasn’t talking about them.”
Silence.
The distant flashing lights reflected against the windows of the school.
“Another city?”
“Possibly.”
“And if it isn’t?”
The relaxed figure finally sat upright.
“Then the Others may have violated the treaty.”
The atmosphere changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“That’s a serious accusation.”
“Which is precisely why we’re sitting here instead of going inside.”
They looked toward the school again.
“Until we know who is behind this, we observe.”
“And Akane?”
“I already told you. Riku is with her.”
The figure lay back along the wall as if preparing for an afternoon nap.
“She’s safer than we are.”
Inside the school, Nezu had a different problem.
There were too many left.
He sat beneath a staircase with his back against the concrete wall.
Voices echoed somewhere in the distance.
Angry voices now.
Scared voices.
That was good.
Fear made people predictable.
But it also made them cautious.
His first traps had been harmless.
They had laughed.
The pool had changed that.
What came after had erased the laughter completely.
Nobody was underestimating him anymore.
That created a problem.
Nezu looked at the rough map he had drawn on the back of a discarded worksheet.
He knew the school better than they did.
Every classroom.
Every staircase.
Every storage room.
Every maintenance corridor.
But chasing them one at a time would take too long.
Worse, they were learning.
They wouldn’t blindly follow him anymore.
They would check corners.
Watch the floor.
Avoid suspicious objects.
Refuse to enter rooms he wanted them to enter.
Nezu tapped the pencil against the paper.
Then don’t make them chase you.
He stopped tapping.
Give them a reason to come.
His eyes moved across the map.
The bandits wanted something.
A key.
He didn’t know what key.
He didn’t know what it opened.
He didn’t even know whether it was an actual key.
But he had heard enough to understand one thing.
They wanted it badly.
Nezu looked toward the ceiling.
Then toward the nearest speaker.
His eyes returned to the map.
A room had been circled near the bottom.
The workshop.
Nezu stood.
The workshop was considerably larger than an ordinary classroom.
Half of it belonged to the school.
The other half currently belonged to the renovation workers.
Workbenches stood in rows. Cabinets covered one wall. Saws, drills, and other equipment occupied designated stations around the room.
The renovations had added even more.
Tools.
Cables.
Gas cylinders.
Welding equipment.
Boxes of construction materials.
Lengths of rope.
Nezu stood in the doorway.
His eyes slowly moved from one side of the workshop to the other.
Then back again.
He closed the door.
For the next several minutes, the room filled with scraping, metallic knocks, and the occasional sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.
When Nezu finally stepped back, the workshop looked ridiculous.
Ropes crossed obvious sections of the room.
One disappeared beneath a workbench.
Another ran upward toward equipment suspended much too obviously above the floor.
A saw had been positioned where anyone entering could see it.
Several heavy objects seemed precariously balanced.
Cylinders had been moved from their normal storage positions.
Loose tools and construction materials surrounded them.
Nothing was subtle.
Nothing looked safe.
That was intentional.
Nezu inspected the room.
The men wouldn’t enter carelessly.
Not anymore.
They would see the traps.
They would stop.
Look.
Think.
That was what Nezu needed them to do.
He crouched beside one of the ropes.
It was taut.
He followed it with his eyes toward the crude mechanism it appeared to control.
If someone pulled it, the trap would activate.
If someone stepped on it, the trap could activate.
If someone tried to carefully climb over it, there was still a risk of disturbing it.
So what would a cautious person do?
Nezu stared at the rope.
Cut it.
Gravity would pull the dangerous object harmlessly away from its intended path.
Simple.
He moved to the second rope.
The same principle.
Then the third.
They needed to learn.
Not something false.
Something true.
Nezu continued working.
By the time he reached the final rope, his preparations were different.
He pulled it tight.
Very tight.
The obvious mechanism connected to it looked much like the others.
But the rope was doing more than what could be seen.
Nezu checked everything once more.
Then walked toward the door.
Now he needed to convince them to enter.
The school’s PA system crackled.
Every remaining bandit stopped.
Static filled the corridors.
Then Nezu’s voice came through the speakers.
“You wanted the key, right?”
Silence.
One man slowly raised his head toward the speaker above him.
Another reached for his radio.
Nezu continued.
“I have it.”
The men exchanged looks.
“What?”
A bandit grabbed his radio.
“Did everyone hear that?”
Replies immediately came back.
“Yeah.”
“He’s lying.”
“Obviously.”
The speaker crackled again.
“Come and get it.”
A pause.
“Workshop.”
The PA went silent.
Nobody moved.
Finally, one man spoke.
“Fuck that.”
For once, everyone agreed with him.
“He’s trying to get us into another trap.”
“No shit.”
“Then we don’t go.”
One of them looked toward the windows.
Police lights flashed outside.
Dozens of them.
Probably hundreds by now.
“We need the key.”
“And you think the fucking kid is going to hand it to us?”
“I think he’ll kill anyone who walks into that workshop.”
Nobody argued with that either.
The PA clicked again.
Nezu hadn’t finished.
“Or you can wait.”
They looked upward.
“There are a lot of police outside.”
A short pause.
“I’m sure they’ll wait forever.”
Click.
The speaker went silent.
“Little fucking—”
“Shut up.”
The man with the radio was thinking.
“He doesn’t have it.”
“Probably not.”
“Then we’re not going.”
“Probably?”
The word stopped him.
Another bandit looked between them.
“What?”
“The report.”
“What about it?”
“The target was always followed by two siblings.”
“So?”
“So why are you assuming the target carries the key?”
Silence.
“The siblings could carry it.”
“Or the kid heard us talking about it.”
“Yes.”
“So he’s lying.”
“Maybe.”
The man looked toward the flashing lights outside.
“But if he isn’t?”
Nobody answered.
Their orders had been clear.
Get the target.
Get the key.
And the police weren’t going to remain outside forever.
The man raised his radio.
“Everyone still able to move, second floor.”
A pause.
“We’re checking the workshop.”
They didn’t rush.
That was the first thing Nezu noticed.
Footsteps approached slowly.
Several pairs.
Good.
They stopped outside.
Better.
“Check the doorway.”
“Floor’s clear.”
“Ceiling?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t touch anything.”
The first man leaned carefully around the doorframe.
He immediately saw the ropes.
“Jesus Christ.”
Another looked inside.
“What?”
“Everything.”
The workshop looked exactly like what they expected.
A trap.
Not one trap.
Dozens.
Ropes.
Tools.
Suspended objects.
Saws.
Construction equipment.
Cylinders.
Things balanced where they shouldn’t be.
Things hanging where they shouldn’t be.
Things pointed in directions no sane person would want them pointed.
One of the men looked into the room.
“Kid!”
No answer.
“We know you’re in there!”
Still nothing.
“Show us the key!”
Silence.
The man cursed.
“We have to go in.”
“Slowly.”
They entered.
The first rope stopped them almost immediately.
“Don’t touch it.”
They followed it with their eyes.
It stretched across the path and rose toward a heavy hammer suspended above the aisle.
The mechanism was crude.
Obvious.
Dangerous.
One man crouched.
“If we pull that…”
“Don’t.”
“I’m not.”
He studied the hammer.
Then the rope.
He pulled a knife from his belt.
“Cut it.”
The blade sliced through the rope.
CLANG!
Everyone jumped.
The hammer dropped.
Straight down.
It struck the floor harmlessly.
Nobody moved for several seconds.
The man looked at the severed rope.
Then the hammer.
“Okay.”
He pointed.
“The tension was holding it in position.”
Another man nodded.
“Cutting it let gravity pull it down.”
“Could still be another trap.”
“Everything in this fucking room is another trap.”
They waited.
Nothing happened.
Eventually they continued.
The second rope blocked another aisle.
This one led toward a saw positioned above a workbench.
They inspected it.
Nobody rushed.
The same man crouched.
Cut.
The mechanism went slack.
The saw dropped harmlessly against the bench.
Nothing else happened.
“Two.”
They moved forward.
A third rope.
Heavy scrap suspended above another section.
They examined it.
Cut.
The scrap crashed vertically onto the floor.
Harmless.
“Three.”
Their shoulders relaxed.
Not because they thought Nezu was harmless.
They knew better.
They were simply beginning to understand the room.
The fourth rope appeared.
Then the fifth.
Each time they stopped.
Each time they traced the rope.
Each time they identified the obvious danger.
Each time they cut it.
And each time gravity safely pulled the trap away from them.
They were doing it correctly.
That was the important part.
Nezu remained hidden behind the heavy workbench at the far end of the workshop.
Listening to the metal, the footsteps, the whispers.
Another rope being cut.
They had learned.
Then they reached the last one.
The rope was visibly under tension.
Far more than the others.
One of the men stopped immediately.
“That one’s tight.”
“Don’t fucking touch it.”
“I’m not touching it.”
They inspected it from a distance.
The rope ran beside a workbench and toward another crude mechanism.
Something heavy was being held against gravity.
Same principle.
More dangerous.
But the same principle.
One man followed the rope as far as he could.
“Looks like the others.”
“Looks like.”
“Could be different.”
“Could be.”
Nobody moved.
They stared at it.
Then one of the men looked toward the windows.
Blue lights continued flashing outside.
“We don’t have all fucking day.”
The man with the knife crouched.
Nezu lowered himself behind the workbench.
He pressed himself against the concrete floor.
The blade touched the rope.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Do it.”
The knife moved.
SNAP.
The obvious mechanism immediately collapsed.
Straight down.
Exactly like the others.
For half a second, nothing else happened.
Then something heavy slammed against metal somewhere behind them.
BANG.
Every head turned.
“What was—”
A cylinder tore loose and shot across the workshop.
Everyone dropped.
It smashed through equipment and disappeared beneath one of the workbenches.
“What the FUCK?!”
Another violent impact answered from the opposite side.
“DOWN!”
A second cylinder broke loose.
Metal screamed against concrete.
A workbench overturned.
Tools crashed from the walls.
One of the men raised his weapon instinctively.
“STOP SHOOTING!”
Then they heard it.
Hssssssssss.
Everyone froze.
The sound was almost insignificant compared to the chaos that had come before it.
One of the men understood first.
“No.”
His eyes moved toward the damaged cylinders.
“No, no, no—”
“GET OUT!”
Whatever confidence they had left disappeared.
They scrambled toward the entrance.
One slipped over scattered tools and crashed onto his hands.
Another jumped over the remains of one of the traps.
“MOVE!”
Nezu remained flat behind the heavy workbench.
Waiting.
A spark flashed somewhere inside the ruined workshop.
White.
Then orange.
The explosion swallowed the room.
The pressure hit first.
Windows burst outward.
Cabinet doors ripped open.
Workbenches shifted across the floor.
One man was lifted from his feet and thrown backward.
And then everything Nezu had left surrounding the cylinders moved.
Nails.
Screws.
Broken tools.
Loose pieces of metal.
Fragments of workshop equipment.
For an instant, the room became a storm.
One man took the first wave across his back.
His shirt seemed to twitch in half a dozen places at once.
Then red appeared.
A nail punched completely through his shoulder.
Another disappeared beneath his ribs.
Several smaller fragments buried themselves across his back and legs.
He hit the floor face-first and didn’t get back up.
The man beside him had managed to turn.
It was worse.
A piece of metal tore across his cheek, opening it from the corner of his mouth toward his ear.
His head snapped sideways.
Blood sprayed across the wall.
Before he could even scream, another fragment struck his thigh and tore through the muscle.
His leg collapsed.
He fell screaming, one hand pressed against his face while blood poured between his fingers.
Another man raised his arms instinctively.
A nail went through his palm.
The point emerged from the back of his hand.
Another buried itself deep in his forearm.
A third struck his upper arm.
He stared at his hand for a fraction of a second, almost confused by the piece of metal sticking through it.
Then the pain reached him.
“AAAAARGH!”
He fell backward.
The man nearest the doorway almost made it.
Almost.
A cluster of fragments caught him from the side.
One punched into his calf.
Another buried itself in his hip.
Something larger struck his abdomen.
He folded around the impact and crashed onto the concrete.
Blood immediately began spreading beneath him.
Nezu heard the impacts against his own cover.
THUNK.
THUNK.
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
The workbench shook.
A nail punched deeply into the wood.
Another penetrated almost completely.
Its point appeared on Nezu’s side.
Then another.
And another.
One stopped with only a few centimeters of wood remaining between its point and Nezu’s head.
Nezu looked at it.
His protection had been insufficient.
Another impact struck the bench.
A nail broke through.
Its tip stopped only centimeters from his cheek.
Nezu shifted his head behind a thicker section of wood.
No panic.
No accelerated breathing.
No fear.
Just a correction.
Not thick enough.
Around him, the workshop had become screaming, smoke, and blood.
The explosion had ignited whatever gas remained.
Flames rolled across one side of the room.
The man nearest the doorway screamed again as part of his clothing caught fire.
He rolled desperately across the concrete, beating at himself with his injured hands.
Then the sprinklers activated.
Water poured from the ceiling.
It struck hot metal with sharp hisses.
Smoke mixed with steam.
Blood diluted beneath the falling water, spreading across the floor in thin red streams.
The fire weakened.
The screaming didn’t.
Outside, hundreds of police officers ducked behind their vehicles.
“EXPLOSION!”
“SECOND FLOOR!”
“FIRE SERVICES READY!”
“DO NOT ENTER!”
Orders collided with one another.
Parents screamed behind the barricades.
News cameras turned toward smoke pouring from the shattered windows.
On top of the outer wall, the three figures looked toward the school.
One slowly sat upright.
“…Was that Riku?”
“No.”
“Akane?”
“No.”
They watched the smoke climb into the sky.
A few seconds passed.
“Then what the hell was that?”
For the first time, the relaxed figure seemed genuinely interested.
“I don’t know.”
Inside, the fire alarms screamed.
Water continued raining from the ceiling.
Nezu pushed himself upright behind what remained of the workbench.
His ears rang.
His attention went first to his cover.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
He counted the nails buried in the wood.
Several had penetrated deeply.
One had almost reached him.
His estimate had been incorrect.
Nezu looked around the workshop.
Blood mixed with the sprinkler water around his shoes.
One man lay face-down, his back peppered with fragments.
Nezu watched him for several seconds.
His chest didn’t move.
Dead.
Another was curled on the floor clutching his ruined face, blood slipping continuously between his fingers.
The man with the nail through his hand had gone quiet, staring blankly upward while his injured arm rested across his chest.
Another tried to crawl toward the doorway.
He managed less than a meter before collapsing.
The burned man was still moving.
Barely.
Nezu observed them.
No satisfaction.
No disgust.
No fear.
The trap had been more powerful than expected.
His cover had been insufficient.
One was dead.
Several were incapacitated.
Nezu stood.
Segu was still somewhere in the school.
His expression changed.
There were still armed men between him and Segu.
That was the only part that mattered.
He couldn’t afford another miscalculation.
Not because this one had almost killed him.
Because the next one could put Segu in danger.
Nezu stepped over the final severed rope.
The men had done exactly what he expected.
They hadn’t been stupid.
They had been cautious.
They had inspected the traps.
They had tested their solution.
Again.
And again.
And every time, it had worked.
Don’t pull the rope.
Cut it.
Common sense.
Nezu walked out of the workshop.
The problem with common sense wasn’t that it was wrong.
He had simply counted on them having it.
< Previous Next >