Laughter creeps up the walls of Heavenly Host Elementary School. It echoes down the stairs and through the corridors of the basement. Rainwater drips from the ceiling, rhythmic and deafening. Three children lay blindfolded and bound in rope on the floor, the fourth being quickly released from her binds by their captor. Sachiko stretches her now free limbs, taking in her surroundings. A table with her weapons of choice sits in the corner. Her teacher cowers in the corner. Mr. Yanagihori did his job; he was no longer needed.
Sachiko moved to examine her options. She grabbed a pair of medical scissors, Metzenbaum her brain supplies as a name, and stakes out the first of the victims: a boy she recognizes from classroom 3-2. She grips the scissors in one hand and brings them down into the boy’s abdomen. The squelch of blade to flesh echoes through the room as the other two children continue crying, attempting to escape. She cuts the loose flesh from the rest of the body. Lifting a line of intestines from the bloody pool, she holds it high and stretches it until the blood drains off the side of the flesh. With another snip, it falls back to the boy’s unconscious body. She slices through the appendix, pancreas, spleen, kidneys, and anything else she can get her blade through. She pinches his tongue between her thumb and forefinger and snips again. He is silenced. She moves to the next victim.
This one is a girl Sachiko’s age, barely seven years old. She vaguely recalls seeing her playing with dolls near the cubbies. She pushes her weapon into the girl’s cheeks. The metal slams into her upper molars, crushing them as she rams the tool repeatedly into her jaw. She cuts around the side of her head. When she circles back around to her starting point, she lodges the blade into the junction of the mandible and cranium. With a crack, the girl’s jaw comes undone. The same is repeated for the other side. When she grabs her hair and pulls, the top half of her skull comes off. She dangles it in her hand for a moment, surprised at the weight, then drops it to the ground with a thud. She cuts off another tongue.
The final victim is a girl in fifth grade. Sachiko has something special in mind for this one, something that can’t be achieved with the blindfold covering her face. She pulls it off with one hand. The girl frantically takes in her surroundings, shocked at the students to her right. She notices her teacher in the corner. Confusion sweeps through her mind as she wonders who could be the killer, since the one who captured them seemed completely incapacitated. Just as she notices Sachiko, the scissors are jammed into her left eye. She presses deeper, wiggling the blade, enjoying her panicked screams. “Will it come out?” she giggles maniacally. With a final twist and pull, she yanks forward and tears the ocular muscles. Her eye is skewered on the end. The girl, blood pressure having dropped sharply from the sudden attack, collapses backwards. Her other eyelid drops slowly as she dies. Sachiko opens the scissors, pops off the eyeball, then brings them back down onto her tongue.
Sachiko moves to the man in the corner of the room. He turns to look at her. “Doesn’t it make so much sense? Your father was very stupid to mess with my mother,” she cackles and wipes the blood from her face. “A second generation conflict. At least we knew who the winner would be this time!”
He grunts pathetically. “Not… my fault…”
“Your father killed my mother. Your father killed me. He defiled my mother’s body and mutilated mine. This bloodline is getting what it deserves.” As she speaks, her form reenacts the events in front of him. Her neck squeezes in on itself and her tongue pops off onto the floor, despite her speech remaining perfectly coherent. “You can’t even speak properly. It’s pathetic.”
“You... killed.. children... Evil too...”
“My mother needed friends. I’m bringing her what she wants.” Sachiko brings the blade to the side of his cheek, pressing just light enough to draw blood. “You’re lucky she doesn’t wish to spend eternity with someone like you. She’ll be so proud of me.” She places the weapon in the palm of his hand. He feels the touch dissolving away with the girl’s form, leaving him alone in the basement with her victims and police sirens steadily approaching.