Counting down to prepare yourself, you peered around the wall to get a gauge of where he was so you could stupidly make a break for it and avoid him until he left. Or perhaps a member of the faculty could remove him if you begged them to call the police on him.

Showing them your scars should be big enough proof of your last encounter, a dangerous one, pure nightmare fuel that could scare off the grim reaper himself. And there he was, casually walking about the hallway and conversing with students.

How did he even get on campus?

He looked identical from the last time, hair off to the side and innocent grin topped off in a black suit. Nothing had changed, nothing had developed since the last time.

There’s no way he could do anything to me on campus, no way he’d get away with it.

Foolish thinking really, someone so hurtful and deprived could get away with murder if they put their mind to it. Furuta was no different. One person they pinned on him, the other five had no evidence, he was far too skilled to leave anything behind.

Furuta Nimura was a cold blooded killer and he would most definitely try something amongst the crowd of college students, some would get caught in the calculated line of fire without any hesitation to stop before blood was spilled.

Furuta said he would stop at nothing to have you in his sick little collection along with the countless other women he’d claimed. Victims, all of them. You were the only one that managed to escape his grasp with nerve damage and only one eye intact.

All because he wanted you dead. And only he was allowed to take your life.

The bell rang and disrupted your mindset, forcefully pulling you into the present where your life was no less dire. Furuta was out and skulking about, looking for you without any doubt to end your life for the fun of it.

Your mind, no less muddied than it was before, still allowed you to think clearer. So you scarpered, out of the hallway in the opposite direction, never taking one more glance at his face in fear that he would somehow sense you like a beast and hone straight in on you without any chance of escape.

It was only logical to miss the six o’clock class and avoid the empty hall as everyone began filtering through each door like rats exposing you to unfortunate elements of isolation. 

And there, in a little broom closet you sat, waiting out the school period until it was safe to make the journey out of the campus main entrance to your car.

You refused to be caught with your pants down inside the classroom with no formal way of escape.

You could breathe a shaky sigh of relieved unease and do your best to hold everything in that begged to escape your heavily guarded head. The pain, disgusting touches and words that had no trouble in making the most confident person cry in one lonely corner. Well… it was just a talent of his.

“Calm down…You’ll be fine.” You spoke to yourself confidently though you did not believe a word, not at all in your body language either.

If someone entered that closet right now, they would assume you were not anxious at all, rather, that you were cold or freezing from the winter’s chill and breeze thick enough to send that god awful shiver up your spine from the exposed part of your back when your shirt lifted a little.

You were shivering. About to cry too.

If he found you, you were dead.

So you sat there, and sat, and sat some more, slumped in the corner in the dark waiting for the bell to ring to which you’d run for it. That was your glowing chance at freedom, one single scrap of encouragement to get away before he even knew where you were. One singular ray of hope to hide amongst the crowd.

You had a different identity now, it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t even recognise you, though the bloodhound was just that. It was what he did best. And he’d been talented enough to sniff and flush you out for the hunt from the series of tunnels you’d built yourself.

All that time in that room and you waited for that moment. Yet it never came.

For you had fallen asleep in that little cramped room with growing, unaddressed black mould on the ceiling and swollen floor from last year's flood. As uncomfortable as it was, you still managed to sleep until late.

By then, the campus was dead, dark and unsurprisingly empty. A curse that you had been unfortunately locked into the building partially, but it also meant that everyone had left the property, which included Furuta.

Just how had you slept so long? Am I unwell or something?

Later than ten-thirty, agonisingly late to be caught outside on your own. You half debated staying the night and waiting it out, but the miniature battery icon on your phone looked so weak in the red, seven percent left until you would only have a blackened mirror in your palm.

That wouldn’t do much unless it was used as an ornate doorstop or sudden projectile if you were desperate enough. And you were getting desperate.

The coast looked clear enough, you were still cautious as to be expected when you noted that your future murderer was on the loose.

All stood silent though, deafening in your ears to the point you wanted to cover them in a moment flat to stop the almighty pressure squeeze them in the anticipation of the horrid and metaphorical eyes watching you as you walked away.

Of course there was something watching you in the dark, there always was ever since you ever had the misfortune to meeting Furuta that night. All of the nights after when he touched you, tortured your mind and scarred you beyond repair that you couldn’t bare to see the naked flesh that hung around your skeleton only for you to relive it all again.

A few steps at a time you moved, like a deer waiting for the dreaded headlights to appear along the highway as you contemplated your death, however the hallway sat there in as much quiet as it had done before.

It was all in your head, and now you contemplated whether you even saw him. You knew that face anywhere and it all seemed so real. So why did you-

A noise. One further up the hallway in the direction you were heading towards in the pitch black, echoing, bouncing off the walls that up until now, didn’t feel as much of a prison as they did in that very moment.

Whistling, in long and drawn out tunes as though to coax you towards it out of curiosity.

Frozen in your spot, you fought valiantly to gather the courage to question it, to call out whoever was down there to stop messing around and quit trying to frighten you. They had succeeded exceptionally fast and were accurate enough to stop you speaking all together.

You didn’t need to ask who either. You knew instantly who it was.

Another whistle that stopped so abruptly, you sensed the quick snap from his lips despite how far away he was, in the darkness. “I wondered when I would see that look of terror on your face again.”

He was closer than you thought.

All you could do was back away and gather the strength to run, your shoes slapping down the hallway as the flight response kicked in and the adrenaline took over in getting as far away as humanly possible. Which wasn’t fast at all.

You were clumsy down the stairs to the ground floor, clunking and slamming doors making it far more than obvious where you were, though the only objective running through your mind was ‘Get out. Get to the car.’

As soon as your foot touched the ground floor, Furuta’s whistling droned out of the cafeteria down the very end of the hall, like a thick smoke in the night in front of the amber street lights out of the large ceiling length windows.

Artistic perhaps, wanting to kill you and boasting how he’d feast on you afterwards, standing poetically in the cafeteria like a nightmare. A nightmare you endured most nights when you slept deeper than your frequent naps.

“How are men supposed to pursue you women if you run from us all the time?”

The door that led to the other stairwell was right there in your periphery. If you could make it there and trigger the fire doors, the alarm would sound and better than that, you’d have a straight shot to your car.

It was clear Furute was fast, but faster than a speeding car going over the limit? You doubted it.

“Where do you think you’re going? I haven’t had any pleasure seeing you properly and you’re just running off just like that? Not very ladylike if you ask me.”

The shadow was gone. The entrance to the cafeteria was empty.

You booked it without a word, fumbling for your keys in your pocket and yanking the door open with a bang that jolted your bones and slammed through the empty hallway. The fire door was in sight.

It was so close. And snap.

No words, just a guttural scream from your throat to emphasise how fucked up it all was.

A terrifying shockwave shot up your leg from your foot, or your ankle? Nothing was clear when it entered your head, just pain, unimaginable red hot searing pain throbbing throughout your leg which sent you hurtling to the ground and going head first into the fire door but never letting it open.

“In truth I always knew where you were. But I thought it would be so fun to play the whole cat and mouse act for a little while, especially since you didn’t even say hello when you saw me in the hallway.” Furuta was right in the stairwell with you, still under the cover of darkness in the corner.

All you could think about was your leg, you couldn’t see what he’d done, so without a word, you sucked the air through your teeth and put your hand down on it. Another scream, that was all.

The bone of your shin was protruding as though there was a dagger strapped to it. Lightning fast in the predatory sense, Furuta had completely shattered your shin in one single swipe.

It was excruciatingly hot, coating your skin in beads of sweat as you still tried to maintain your resolve and pull the fire door bar. That was when he closed in, but it was not his finger under your chin, it was something more firm, non-organic in nature.

“Uh, uh. Let’s not do that and wake an audience. But I want you to look at me, you know I love when I see that fear in your eye.” He held a knife to your throat whilst you begged the hot room to allow you some air or you would choke.

“Maybe I could take your other eye out? I hate having an odd number of items I enjoy looking at… or maybe break your other leg, keeping in with the even numbers.” He wrapped his fingers around your shin and pressed, slowly applying pressure to the cracked bone that would lead to infection and blood loss over time.

You were crying now, trying your utmost not to vomit all over yourself as now, the pain grew white hot and more unbearable than unbearable could ever get in your lifetime. 

Anything to make it stop. Anything.

Maybe right now, death wouldn’t be so bad.

“No…” He said, sliding the knife down from your chin to your chest. “I’ve done that already. Making you cry is enough, how else will I taste those tears if they have no eye to cry with?”

A slice of fabric from your shirt didn’t stop you from sounding like a dying animal. Because that’s what you were. You were going to die.

It was always inevitable at some point. But not on your college campus, not like this in front of the security camera pointing at you in your blurred static vision from the corner of the room.

One rip, that was all it took to remove your shirt from your chest completely, leaving only your bra to keep you from being fully indecent. Well, that came off of course, the knife digging into your skin and cutting you in the process.

You didn’t notice, only when the warm blood trickled over your waist and on to your hand.

“Perhaps I could cut these off and keep them to touch whenever I wanted?” He took a hold of your breast and squeezed so hard, the fat spilled between his fingers like it was about to pop.

And then he ran his tongue over your nipple that was only just visible. “No, they taste better attached…”

There wasn’t any reason to plead with him, it wouldn’t matter anyway if you did. The outcome, now that he had found you was obvious, so clear that the pain in your leg was easing off just a fraction. Though that was probably due to losing more nerves in your body like last time.

And you barely made it to the hospital then. You wouldn’t now.

You just hated the thought that by tomorrow morning, some student’s life was going to change when they found your mutilated body. If pleading to whatever higher being up there worked, you would pray that it wasn’t someone who knew you personally or intimately.

The scene was going to be either shocking or humiliating, if Furuta left any of you in the first place.

He was going to kill you, but toy with you first, just like the others.

“This isn’t much fun if you stay quiet. I want to give the faculty a show when they see this tomorrow.” He let go of your now swollen breast and blindly pointed up to the camera watching this fucked up scene intensely, getting every pixel of your own death.

You screamed again when he lent on your leg and sliced the knife vertically down it. Bleeding out wasn’t the worst way to go, maybe even as peacefully as it could get being in Furuta’s presence.

“If you think I’ll just let you bleed out, think again.” He bit down on your breast, taking your nipple inside his mouth and applying so much pressure, you were sure he’d bite the thing off.

Sobbing, it was all you could do as he took you, cutting off inch by inch of fabric until your entire bottom half was exposed too. He took turns, cutting you and tasting your body he had no right to touch.

But, for whatever reason, he never fucked you like you thought he would. Well, why not? He could do whatever he wanted; he was doing whatever he wanted. Like anyone could stop him and his immense strength and unrealistic speed you could never keep up with.

It was a miracle you ever escaped him in the first place and you often wondered if he let you go intentionally.

Furuta did not only taste you, but left as many bite marks on your skin as he could, drawing blood which coated his mouth and teeth like paint,

“If only I could do this forever, there’s no one quite like you, is there?” Another bite, soon it grew numb just like the other areas of damage all over your body. “Then again, I can find plenty of women like you, that’ll have to do.”

If you hadn’t died by morning, you were still dead. But while the moon was still out, your soul had already succumbed to him.

In honesty, you were already dead long before Nimura Furuta ever laid hands on you a second time.

You had just prolonged the inevitable.

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

He sits, his mind trailing off, at his desk. He could leave at any moment and no one would give a damn, so long as work was done by tomorrow and he showed up with it. His flat expression sours with a lowering of his lids and a frown on his lips.

You'd wanted to leave. You confided in him, many years ago. You were both so young...

Your birthday's were nothing special, not celebrated, if even acknowledged at all. But you'd confessed to him, that with each birthday, your secret wish was to some day get out of that place. The garden, the family, the town, the country. You wished to go anywhere else. Anywhere.

And now you're married. With a son and a baby on the way.

He doesn't see you often, in fact he saw you several months ago, and the last time before that had been just before the announcement of the arranged engagement. Her didn't even make it to the wedding...

Nimura leans back, completely forgetting about anything that needed to be done, completely alone. He sighs. It's probably best he wasn't told about the wedding. Or rather, wasn't invited.

He saw the photos, he saw the look in your eyes, he saw the dress that you looked stunning in but would never have chosen yourself. You really looked...so good.

He would've had to see you in that dress, so close yet so far. The temptation to run to you like you had to him all the time when he still lived within your reach. You needed it. It was so clear to him in those photos. You needed him...

You were the only thing he had, and he for you. Your lives were doomed from the start, and you were reminded of it constantly. The only reprieve from the torment at others hands was the touch of yours. Wiping your tears, holding your hands, petting your wounds...kissing your lips, biting your skin, touching your body.

Neither of you were untouched. Pure, clean, unblemished, whatever the hell you wanna call it. But each others touch made it all...go away, if for only a moment.

His head falls back and his teeth grind. He exhales heavily, and it shakes and struggles to leave his chest.

It was raining. Hard. So hard it could've drowned out the sound of your sobs. But he heard you. He always heard you. He found you, he held you, he wiped your tears. The rain made it a fruitless effort, but the act of doing so was what mattered.

He'd brought you to his room, with towels and clothes bundled in his arms, ready to keep you there and let you hide for as long as you both could. He remembers kneeling next you as you sat on his bed, towel in hand, drying your hair, hearing you sniffle as you'd begun to calm down. Making you laugh always made you feel better, and he'd sat down and teasingly rubbed the damp towel on your nose. You'd batted his hand away and finally, he got to hear that laugh that he loved.

That laugh he can still remember, clear as day.

You'd laughed with him, pressing your head against his in that simple sign of affection you'd always done. As the laughter fell quiet from your lips, you'd looked in his eyes, your fingers crept over to his, and you took his hand. The rain was still loud on the roof and through the walls, but it seemed to fade from focus as you'd leaned into him, a hairs width away from his lips. And you hesitated.

So he kissed you. And kissed you, and kissed you, and you kissed him with just as much feeling. Longing, yearning, desperation, relief. As if the sanctuary you'd both been seeking all this time had been right within your arms, and now you knew. You knew... You knew how to touch him, how to tell him what you wanted without having to speak a word, and he knew just as much of you.

Nothing ever felt right without you, and the moment he sank deep inside you, he finally knew why.

It was perfect. You fit together perfectly. You were made for each other, you must've been. Your lips never parted, not even with the rocking of your bodies against the others. Your hands found each others without even having to look, your legs wrapped around his waist just when he needed that extra confirmation that this was real, this was now. This was love.

You had each other for so long, but it wasn't long enough. All those years weren't long enough. He had to go. His plan had to begin, he had to get into the ccg, he had to leave you behind.

'Seed' 'Womb', your roles in this life. His gave him at least the task of living. Yours left you a last choice incubator for these wretched individuals to direct where they pleased when the time came.

And it did. Time caught up to you both, and you didn't have the chance to see each other one last time before it did.

Your paths have now split so far that the only real chance he has to get back to you is to damn the world, tear everything down, and step on the rubble as he makes his way back to you...