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Chapter Text

Asano Gakushu was a boy of many names. 

The ‘ace’ to Kunugigaoka Junior High, the ‘arrogant bastard’ to the End Class, the ‘leader’ to the virtuosos, the ‘ideal child’ to his schoolmates’ parents.

But never ‘son’ to his father.

It’s not like he minded much, Asano Gakuho’s tunnel-visioned focus on success, but sometimes Gakushu would see kids his age walking with friends who weren’t arranged by their parents for better connections later in life, or older teens passing by with empty schedules not crammed full of studying and extracurriculars to boost a premature transcript to a good university, or even kids younger than him walking hand in hand with parents that had time to spend, smiling all the while, and feel a pang in his heart. 

A sense of longing that he’d bury under textbooks and mock exam sheets until it went away.

He was doing that now, as a matter of fact, to no avail. 

Admitting a mental tactical retreat for a moment, Gakushu sat up straight in his chair. Stretching his arms wide above his head, he stole a glance at the orange afternoon sky outside his window. If he strained his ears, he could hear the hum of the cicadas outside, one that Koyama definitely told him about before, but one that he definitely tuned out in favor of completing the final sheet of homework for that day. 

“Kana-kana-kana,” Koyama had mumbled once when they were seated at the table closest to the window at the library, ‘the cicadas in the evening have such a lovely sound. Kana-kana-kana, so melancholic, though.”  

Teppei raised his head from his textbook, an amused look on his face. “If you have time to steal Ren’s job and wax poetic about bugs, I suggest you go back to ‘memorizing every chemical formula’ again.”

Ren nodded, an expression of mock hurt on his face before turning back to his notebook which he was using to… draw pictures of roses, apparently. ‘This is why I always beat him in these exams,’ Gakushu mused.

“Why are you even gonna memorize every chemical formula? That just seems like a waste of brain space, and you need a lot of it, Yama.” Tomoya questioned, a little insensitively. Koyama let out an affronted noise before launching into some long-winded excuse on why it was so important for him to memorize something so statistically-inconsequential in the grand scheme of the first-term exams.

Gakushu hadn’t even looked up from his paper himself, but he did steal glances throughout the exchange. The virtuosos never seemed to mind if he didn’t talk, which he preferred.

Despite their ‘friendship’ initially being a ploy from their parents to strengthen their social and political connections with eachother, Gakushu did have to admit that the five of them got along quite well. Granted, the other four were immature in a way only spoiled, arrogant kids could be, but at least they had the academics to back up their big heads… Most of the time.

Right now, however, he really wouldn’t be able to handle their ridiculousness. Gakushu’s gaze flitted from the sun-painted sky to the early moon, nearly full. Its tranquility filled him with a sense of overwhelming calm, only a little prickle in the back of his mind.

And then the moon exploded.

Chapter Text

To say he was dumbfounded would be an understatement.

Immediately, Gakushu sat back up in his seat, mouth agape as he watched a celestial body explode into the shape of a cartoon crescent. All around him, the world seemed to halt and shift on its axis. Cars screeched to a stop on the streets below and people screamed in horror, the noise leaking through an ajar window. 

Gakushu bit back the urge to yell for his dad.

Instead, he blinked, pulled himself back into a presentable expression of blasé curiosity, and calmly walked down the stairs into the living room, where his father was on the couch, typing away on his laptop like nothing was wrong. 

“Ah, Gakushu,” the chairman said once he noticed Gakushu, “I see you’ve seen the news.”

“...Yeah.” Gakushu mumbled, feeling a headache building in his temples. 

The chairman’s perfect posture, unruffled expression, and condescending tone almost made it seem like he’d expected the moon to explode. His hands shook minutely, and his gaze trembled for just a micro-second when he’d looked at Gakushu, though.

“Oh, and also,” Gakuho took a thick manilla folder from off the coffee table and handed it to Gakushu, “you know where to sign,” he said plainly. 

“Another NDA?”

“You’re going to want to read this one thoroughly.” Gakuho intoned.

“You say that like I don’t reread every letter of everything you ask me to sign.” Gakushu groused, already leafing through the hefty paper stack.

 The official-looking emblems on each paper gave him pause, though, and he glanced up suspiciously at the chairman. Infuriatingly, however, the man had already returned to his laptop screen, and was blatantly ignoring Gakushu’s pointed glare. 

Gakushu rolled his eyes, and flipped through the stack, making a point not to sign the highlighted areas just yet. 

Eventually, he reached the last few pages with only a few eyebrow raises. A little 'eliminating target' here, some 'military-grade weapons supplied courtesy of a government official sub-branch dedicated to the elimination of this threat ’ there, no big deal. Gakushu flipped the page again. Wait…

He stomped up to the chairman, shoving the paper in his face.

“Why am I being transferred to the End Class?!”

The chairman glanced between the paper and Gakushu’s face, nonplussed.

“I believe,” he said carefully, condescendingly, “the reason is stated in the contract.”

The contract did, in fact, state why Gakushu would transfer over to the End Class. It was an added clause from the chairman himself- he could tell from the more complicated jargon that Gakuho utilized to confuse the people he usually had sign contracts with, like the Kunugigaoka staff.

Gakushu, however, was too used to the chairman’s infuriating way of talking in circles to be distracted by big words and subclauses on subclauses. As a matter of fact, it seemed tame in comparison to some of the other contracts that the chairman had tried to get Gakushu to sign before.

Apparently, the ‘task issued by the acting government of Japan’ had too great a risk of failure for the chairman to be comfortable with allowing the End Class to handle, so he’d send in his own son to improve their chances of success - because of course the bottom 5% were tasked to handle a job straight from the Japanese government. Fine leadership on display, really. Class 3-A goes to Okinawa every year, and Class 3-E gets sent on a mission from the government. 

“I thought you’d be excited about this, Gakushu,” Gakuho hummed, “you do always go on about the government’s incompetency. With this, you’re permitted , even, to intervene. Sponsored by the government themselves.” 

Gakushu scoffed. “It’s delegation at best. If they’re content to employ a group of pubescent children to do their dirty work, it’s clear they could do it themselves.” 

‘ Why they wont, though, is the question ,’ he thought to himself.

The chairman shrugged, passing Gakushu a pen. 

“Contracts signed by minors aren’t liable to hold up in court, you know,” he bit, taking the pen anyways.

“They carry the same weight if co-signed by a parental guardian, though,” the chairman replied, not taking his eyes off of his laptop.

Gakushu huffed and signed his name on the dotted line.

Chapter Text

“They say that when a man knows he’s going to die, he lives like never before,” Ren cooed, twirling his fork in the air like the conductor of an orchestra. 

Usually when Ren got all flowery, Gakushu and the other Virtuosos would drag him down to the crummy grounds of Kunugigaoka with talk of logic or even just a simple ‘who’s they?’ but right now… 

The boy fiddled with the straw to his drink. 

…He found himself agreeing.

Not to be dramatic or anything, but even he could agree that becoming a part of the Class 3-E, even just for governmental damage control, would be social suicide. 

Students at Kunugigaoka Junior High are taught early upon arrival to never look back, to never take notice of those below them unless to stick up their noses at them. 

Gakushu knew that well, knew that he and the Virtuosos were emblematic of that very ideology, only truly hanging out with each other- the best of the best- and if Gakushu transferred to the End Class…

Gakushu knew what’d happen- had seen it before with that smart red-headed guy who’s delinquency got him kicked from A to B to C to D until he landed down in E class. 

He didn’t see him much anymore. 

Frankly, it made sense. The old classroom was situated up on a high hill in the thick forests nearby, and Gakushu had better things than chasing down weirdos who break people’s arms for sticking to the status quo, but when Gakushu thought about not being able to meet up with the Virtuosos, he felt his heart lurch a little bit.

As a result, Gakushu had spent the rest of spring break studying, practicing the route to-and-from the old classroom on the hill, and catching up with the Five Virtuosos at the café they had claimed as their own: Teppei gushed about the reading selection present (gossip rags and intellectual journalistic papers in the same rack), Koyama preferred the environmental view of the trees on the windows, Ren enjoyed the women, Tomoya liked how close it was to his house, and Gakushu personally didn't care, but he did enjoy the pastries the café had to offer.

And so there they were, all five of them sat at a wide table by the window, three days before the start of their third year, and three days until a meeting like this would become impossible. 

Gakushu picked at his slice of cake with his fork. 

“Hey… guys?”  he said suddenly, eyes fixed firmly on his plate. 

The other virtuosos stopped talking and looked over to him. Just then, Gakushu realized that he hadn’t spoken at all until now. 

He took a breath. “What would you guys do if we had another classmate transfer to the End Class this year?” Hell, that sounded way too specific.  

Gakushu subtly leaned against the window, the cool glass pressed against his side, a feeble attempt to offset the heat from their gaze. Their eyes bore into him with pure sincerity and it ate at Gakushu’s insides with something he wouldn’t call guilt.

“Whaddya mean, Asano?” Teppei tilted his head a little bit. “Like, another Akabane?”

Ren faked a shiver. “God, I hope not. It was bad enough when that guy was in our building . If somebody in our class turned out to be crazy like him, I’d call the cops or something.”

Gakushu sighed and shook his head. “No, not like that. I mean like, how would you feel?” Would you still be friends with them?

Tomoya shrugged, and Teppei looked unsure. Ren and Natsuhiko shared a look. 

“Asano,” Natsuhiko started, and Gakushu braced for the worst, “did the chairman tell you who’s transfering to the End Class already?”

He blinked. “...Yeah. He definitely did.”

“That’s great, Asano!” Ren sat up. “So you probably got a list of everyone in Kunugigaoka, yeah?” He drew the last part- a taunt- and Gakushu huffed.

“Oh wow, really?” Natsuhiko leaned in too. “You gotta let us know if there’s gonna be any cute girls in our class!” 

Finally, Gakushu conceded and let his hand cradle his head, covering his expression.

“You guys are incorrigible… and predictable,” he lifted his face- a stupid grin on it, no doubt. 

“There’s a few new girls in our class, they seem pretty smart and not too bad-looking, I suppose.” Natsuhiko did a little fist pump.

“Unlike you, am I right?” Ren teased, and Natsuhiko paused his cheering to shove him away, eventually dragging Tomoya into it, too.

Gakushu let out a laugh. He’d decided that didn’t want to ruin their last days together with the melancholy after all. I guess they’ll find out at school, then. That’s alright. 

Teppei turned back to his book, but not before shooting Gakushu an inquisitive look, which he ignored, though it did feel nice to be someone that people could worry for. 

It was nice while it lasted.

Chapter Text

The first day of the school year is usually marked by the elements of spring: blooming flowers, light rains, and eager laughter of families and friends making new connections.

The first day of Gakushu’s third year of junior high was marked by the elements of his phone alarm pulling him from that dream, an overcast early-morning sky, and a silent car ride as his father fed his superiority complex by mocking the people whose lives he ruined by feeding into their various vices. 

Normal, everyday behavior for a well-adjusted man, surely.

Gakushu ignored the chairman’s gradual descent into madness, opting instead to scroll on his phone. Tomoya had sent him a text last night that he hadn’t gotten to since he was studying, so he replied to that, and then to the subsequent ten messages.

Eventually, the driver came to a halt and Gakushu exited the car, the chairman a few infuriating feet in front of him. 

Gakushu followed a little ways behind the chairman into the main building and let his feet carry him to the student council room on muscle memory alone. He felt himself go up the stairs, down the hallway, into the third door on the left.

The sun was beginning to peek out from over the clouds and Gakushu let the light cover his hands indulgently. 

Then, he reached up to his arm where the armband was fixed and let it come unlatched. Folding iti neatly, he left it on the neat desk to the right of him, where he knew Ren sat during Student Council meetings. 

Sometimes, whenever the other leadership students neglected to turn in their required paperwork until the last minute, making Gakushu to a meetup. Ren and the others would bring their work to the council room, sitting next to him and letting him work while still keeping him included.

Gakushu pet the fabric of the arm band childishly before admonishing himself. Then, he turned, walked back down the hall, down the stairs, and out of the main campus building again. He turned to the treeline, a little numb.

Before the chairman decided to create the idea of ‘Class E’, he’d forbidden Gakushu- forbade anyone- from entering the treeline, going up the trail, and going into the old campus schoolhouse. 

Later, people were so afraid of being associated with the ‘bottom of the barrel’ Class E that he didn’t even need to threaten people anymore. Nobody wanted to be seen with the worst performers of Kunugigaoka Junior High.

But did intentionally holding back the ‘worst performers’ really benefit the ones above, or did it keep those below from reaching their full potential? Did it keep those above complacent?

It was still early morning, the sun only just now starting to rise, and so Gakushu went into the treeline, trekked up the dirt path he hadn’t walked in nearly a decade, and come into view of the old campus schoolhouse- Asano’s Cram School- he remembers a sign being read to him saying that. 

He remembers large but gentle hands letting him trace the shapes of a sign carved into the same wood that made the building itself.

Gakushu turns away from the entrance door, into the forest itself. He has a few hours to kill. He has plenty of time to see the inside of the building, but for now, he’d take the chance to reminisce outside the classroom walls.

He’s not ready.

So he walks into the trees again, this time more expansive. Gakushu knows that a distance away- maybe twenty meters out- there’s a winding river with a gentle current and shallow bed where he learned to swim. On hot summer days, a girl from his father’s school would beg to do ‘swim-teaching,’- a lesson plan she’d made up where she’d teach young Gakushu to swim and his father would teach the girl how to conjugate English verbs properly.

His father usually agreed, and by the third day in a row where she was ‘melting, will melt, melted,’ Gakushu had learned how to float on his back.

Gakushu knelt next to the riverbed and dipped his fingertips in. Spring rivers were far too cold, Mori wouldn’t’ve been able to get Gakushu’s father to agree today no matter how many times she’d ‘beseech, besought, beseeched.’  

Still, he knelt there, fingers in cold water until it reached his bones and then some. Finally, after a couple minutes of burning cold, Gakushu pulled his hands out, patting them dry against his pant legs, and kept walking to where his memories were.

They took him to a huge tree- an understatement, in every idea of the word. Nakai used to take younger Gakushu out here when the older boy’s cram school let out and just… sit. Relishing in the quiet and the life that followed it.

Younger Gakushu didn’t really get it, when Nakai would talk about determinate features to look for when tracking animals, what they left behind by way of shifted underbrush and minute footprints in leaflitter, but older Gakushu definitely admired the guy for trying to explain it to a four year-old, at least. 

He did his best, now, to remember what the kid had said before about silence and snapping and steps. It was meditative, to stand in an empty forest searching for life. He found himself doing it more often, now. 

Eventually, he could hear it: birds originally scared off by the noise tempted back to their perches through the trust of quiet, lulled into song again.

He sat there for a while. Drinking in the memory of people who looked after him, and who looked at his father with kindness reflected back in their eyes. He wished he understood when Nakai was here. He wished he remembered Ikeda. 

Gakushu stood up again, sobered by that selfish wish. Uncaring once more for the noise, he turned and walked straight back to the old campus building. He passed the wide tree full of beetles, passed the river carrying reeds downstream, passed the overgrown sports field, and sat back against the wall of the old campus. 

Gakushu did remember Ikeda. 

He remembered a boy energetic like a dog, impatient and bossy. He remembered his towering father and a sand-haired boy playing basketball as a learning lesson. He remembered a boy with sand-colored hair grinning at a younger version of him, the boy confiding in Gakushu all his ‘secret’ plans to best his father and the boy’s own teacher. 

But Gakushu couldn’t remember his face.

Finally, he got tired of remembering, and- judging by the uptick in chatter- surmised that Class 3-E was finally starting.

He didn’t feel like walking through the door, though. The idea of eyes on him right now made him feel sick, the thought of the inevitable mockery turned his stomach. 

And so he crawled through the window farthest from the door. 

Faintly, he could hear the person in the front introducing themselves.

“Hello students, how are you all today? As you may have heard, I’m the one who blew up the moon-!”

“...Huh?” 

…Huh?

Gakushu paused at that, legs halfway through the window and whipped his focus to the front of the room, where a ten-foot tall, balloon-headed octopus in a graduation cap and gown stood, waving its weird tentacle hands in the air with a cheshire grin, flanked on both sides by military personnel.

“And come this time next year, I plan to do the same thing to planet earth! isn’t that exciting?” 

“The fuck?!”

Suddenly, all eyes turned back to him, and Gakushu blanked.

“...Ah, crap,” he said inelegantly.

Chapter Text

The students of Class 3-E- Gakushu’s classmates, now- looked a bit torn at the moment, alternating their stupefied stares between their brand new, neon yellow teacher and Gakushu himself, halfway through the window to the building- essentially sitting on the windowsill-, as if debating which one was more peculiar. A little part of him hoped for the latter, for the sake of his pride, at least.

Feeling a little embarrassed at having basically screamed his unorthodox entrance into attention, Gakushu shuffled the rest of the way into the classroom and into the nearest desk, ending up behind a girl with thick glasses and twin black braids. She gaped at him for a moment before catching his returning stare and quickly turning back around to the front. 

Gakushu followed suit. 

The unmasked member of the Ministry of Defense, Mr. Karasuma, cleared his throat a bit awkwardly before he launched into a speech. 

“I am Mr. Karasuma with the Japanese Ministry of Defense, and what I’m about to tell you is something that we in the business refer to as ‘classified information,’ a.k.a for your eyes and ears only. No one outside of this classroom, not your friends, not your family, not even your parents can know about this.”

Oh no… Gakushu thought blithely, head resting on his hand already, It would seem that my father already knows. Woe is me, as the English saying goes.

“I need you all to kill this creature… For the sake of mankind.” 

A boy with a really blown out bowl cut raised his hand. “Um, sir, is this a joke? Because if this is really the alien that blew up the-”

Suddenly, the yellow creature reared up, tentacles flaring. “An alien?!” It shrieked, “I’ll have you know, I’m an Earthling born-and-bred, thank you very much!”

“Very convincing, Mister Alien,” the girl two desks diagonal from Gakushu called out. The alien sputtered indignantly.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the details at the moment, but I will say that he’s telling the truth about that. The threat he poses to humanity is too real to joke about.”

“Come next March, he will obliterate the Earth if not stopped. Only the people in this classroom, World Leaders, and a select vetted few know about his existence, and about this agreement, to prevent mass panic.”

Gakushu sat up in his seat a little at that fact. So, the general public won't be made aware of how the moon exploded?

The girl with long black hair- Kanzaki Yuki-something, he remembered Ren rambling about one day- raised her hand timidly. “What if we fail, Mr. Karasuma?” 

Murmurs of agreement followed her question. 

Mr. Karasuma nodded at the girl. “The government understands just how unprepared you kids may be, but this threat must be dealt with before the deadline of next March- and with extreme prejudice- which means that you must become assassins, beings able and capable of killing at a moments notice. The Ministry of Defense will train you all to become those beings.”

Mid-sentence, Mr. Karasuma pulled out a knife and started swinging it at the not-alien octopus-squid-teacher, who dodged every blow before it even came close. 

“Now,-” Mr. Karasuma said with some effort, “you’ll notice,-” Stab. “he’s incredibly,” Stab. “fast-!” Stab. The monster was dodging quickly and easily, but it kept lurking just behind Mr. Karasuma, tendrils flitting about.

Gakushu squinted. Ah, it’s grooming the government employee. 

“And for some reason.-” Mr. Karasuma continued to strike, agitated, “he likes trimming eyebrows!” 

Mr. Karasuma twisted behind himself to get at the monster again, but it darted back once more, tittering gleefully. 

 “Immaculately, though,” a girl in the second row cooed, to which the alien thing turned… pink? He had to admit that Mr. Karasuma’s eyebrows did look a bit nicer now.

The monster backed away, finally, and Mr. Karasuma kept his knife trained on it, as if it’d do any good, demonstrably. The masked government agents still made no move to attack. Why were they even there?

“This is no joking matter, kids.” His voice dropped low, serious. “The creature before you obliterated over half the moon in mere seconds. He’s been clocked in at mach 20, at least. A world where this monster is allowed to live is a world waiting to be destroyed.”

The creature- the alien-octopus-teacher thing- gave an easy sigh before settling down, tendrils taking on a more limb-like behavior.

“He makes it all sound so grim, doesn’t he?” The octopus asked, turning to face the class. Gakushu tried not to look it in the eyes- if it had any.

“Cheer up!” It said cheerfully. “I’ve made your government a gracious offer: give up on this embarrassing game of trying to kill me and making fools of yourselves in the process,” it laid a tentacle on the resigned Mr. Karasuma, who glared at it ruefully in return, “and let me teach Class 3-E at the illustrious Kunugigaoka Junior High.”

Seriously? Gakushu wasn’t a supernatural man, but he felt like a mindreader in this classroom right now.

“We didn’t have much of a choice,” Mr. Karasuma admits. 

“His motives are… unknown, but he agreed to the condition that none of you students would be harmed, and the benefits are advantageous to us, particularly.”

Frankly, it made sense: the government would always know where their… teacher… would be, and objectively they stood a higher chance of success with a little less than thirty people aiming for its head at any moment, but that didn’t mean that Gakushu had to enjoy being enlisted by his father to kill the unkillable. 

The chairman loved giving him near-impossible tasks.

The class still rumbled with unease, and Mr. Karasuma could probably sense the reluctance. He didn’t seem like an idiot like the main campus staff, at least. 

“Kill him,” he added, “and you get ten billion yen.”

Gakushu blinked between the Ministry employee and the target itself, now yellow-and-green and giving off an air of pure smugness. Christ, was this thing half-octopus, half-mood ring?

“See that face?” Mr. Karasuma gestured at the pattern. “That means he’s feeling cocky, superior to you all. He doesn’t think you can do it. So prove him wrong.”

Two more Ministry employees entered the classroom carrying a cart of munitions and weapons, all branded with the same ‘anti-octopus’ label. How apt.  

“These weapons are specifically designed to be used against Antimatter Tentacle lifeforms such as this guy, and aren’t harmful to humans. The fate of the world is in your hands. Decide whether or not you’ll fight for Earth’s survival, for humanity.”

The air was thick with a sense of determination, even Gakushu felt himself influenced a bit. He would like to have one up on his father for something of this caliber, after all.

The tentacled thing writhed eagerly with a sharp grin.

“That should just about cover it, right?” 

It clapped two limbs together like hands and sharpened its grin

. 

“Well then, whaddya say we hit the books and make your final year a productive one, ey?”

ear a productive one, ey?”

Chapter Text

And so that’s how Gakushu found himself being a contract killer in a class full of dregs.

“And that’s lunchtime,” 

After their teacher-slash-government-target left for lunch, the class got to talking.

“So, if he’s going mach 20, it’ll take him approximately 15 minutes to get there, right?” Kataoka, a familiar face, turned from her chair to the class.

Determining speed and distance, though…

“Nah,” Shiota- Nagisa shook his head, staring out the window their teacher had just flown out of. “You’re thinking of the one in Beichuan. The restaurant he likes is in Sichuan, so it’s only 10 minutes away.”

Maehera let his head drop onto his desk with a thunk. “Guess that rules out missiles…” 

The class leader, Isogai, laughed. “He breaks the sound barrier while grading tests, man. No weapon can beat that!”

Gakushu bit back a laugh. “Does he really grade our papers mid-air?”

“I’ve seen it!” Isogai turned to him, eyes wide. “He flew out yesterday with all of our english work and came back with it fully marked!” His voice quieted, a bit shaken. “Mine came back with a little drawing.”

Gakushu blinked at that before the girl with orange-ish brown hair- Kurahashi- took hold of the conversation, twirling the dyed ends of her hair a bit.

Gakushu rested his head on his hand and stared at his sordid bunch of classmates in commiseration, feeling utterly helpless and utterly bored.

It’d only been a day since Mr. Karasuma had saddled them all with the burden of killing the unkillable, but the way this class was acting, you’d think it’d been years.

Beyond the few chatting, the rest of the class wasn’t looking well, varying between despondent and uncaring, some a mix of the two. The glum-looking girl had pulled out a book with a disturbing title and had been reading it since before the octopus had left.

The residents of Class 3-E seemed none-too-bothered by the notion that their lives would likely be over come graduation, in Gakushu’s opinion.

Was it the innate sense of hopelessness that came with being the bottom of the barrel? God, how miserable. 

But Gakushu wouldn’t say that the laissez-faire attitude towards an inevitable demise was the disconcerting part. The disconcerting part, if he had to choose, would be… 

How weirdly… good … this alien teacher was at teaching. 

In all honesty, the octopus wasn’t the worst teacher Gakushu’d had. Not nearly as bad as the teachers that didn’t try, choosing to read from the book instead. In first year, someone in his class edited the math teacher’s books to be blatantly false, and it took about three days and a pink slip for the guy to notice something was wrong.

The octopus, instead of just reading from the book, opted to take a more personal approach, and it seemed like it was working for the End Class, and it had already been a massive improvement from yesterday, according to the pop-quiz scores.

Though, the octopus was clingy in a way that reminded him of the adults and schoolmates from the main campus, The people that’d try and sidle up to him in hopes of endearing themselves to the chairman, as if his likes influenced the chairman’s opinions. 

The difference, however, was how the octopus tried in a kind of pathetic sort of way where Gakushu wasn’t too worried about potential ire or anger, given the way the octopus timidly asked him to try and convince the chairman to give the teacher a raise in pay.

Regardless of the octopus’ effective teaching style, Gakushu knew something had to give. Either the End Class would bring an end to the threat, or the octopus would bring an end to humanity. 

Gakushu watched Terasaka and two of his lackeys approach Nagisa and then head outside. Silently, Gakushu followed them, a few steps behind.

They walked out of the classroom, stopping on the stairs outside the building. Gakushu stayed in and cracked the window open so he could hear. 

Terasaka sat down at the middle of the stairs,  Nagisa at the bottom. “So his mood changes his face, we know that. Did you write them all down like I asked?”

Nagisa nodded, and Gakushu squinted to see him pull out a notepad. 

“More or less?”

He started listing them off until Terasaka suddenly stood up, government knife in hand. 

“Yeah, actually we don’t really need that information. I have a plan, and you,” he pointed the blade’s tip at Nagisa’s face, making him flinch, “are gonna carry it out at the perfect moment, when that thing’s guard is down.

Him?

“Me?” Nagisa balked as Terasaka swung an arm around him.

“Yeah, you. Don’t be so stuck up, Nagisa, we’ve been over this. We’re the End Class ,’ and he spat it with so much venom that Gakushu was having regrets over using that nickname. ‘We’re the lowest rung of the Kunugigaoka totem pole. We’re basically thugs and killers in the eyes of everyone anyway, what’s so wrong with proving them right?”

The two next to them nodded solemnly.

“When are nobodies like us ever gonna get another shot at this kind of cash again? And think about what’s at stake here, Nagisa. The whole world is depending on us, man. No guts, no glory.”

Terasaka pulled out a small drawstring bag, dangling it in front of Nagisa’s face. “Make a name for yourself so we can claim our ticket out of this shithole, whatever it takes.” He dropped it in Nagisa’s hands. “Just don’t fuck it up for us, okay?

Terasaka’s group left Nagisa standing there contemplatively and Gakushu backed up into the hallway so it wouldn’t look suspicious when the three came back into the building.

He locked eyes with Yoshida when they passed by, and Gakushu felt unease in his gut.

The unease didn’t let off even after lunch was over and the octopus alien began fifth period. 

It, in fact, only doubled when the octopus made them write poems about tentacles, and it then multiplied exponentially when Nagisa approached the teacher, launched into its arms, and exploded.

Gakushu stared, shellshocked, as Terasaka’s gang started gloating.

“Bet you didn’t anticipate a suicide bomber, did you, freak!?”

There were outcries and shouts but that all fell to the wayside. Because Gakushu looked up to the ceiling, where a new shape took place, with writhing arms and sharpened teeth.

When the smoke cleared, their teacher’s face was pitch black.

Chapter Text

He couldn’t breathe. The air was thick with tension and fear in a way that reminded Gakushu of the chairman when he got into his moods. 

Terasaka was talking, but all he heard was the thump of blood in his own ears.

Their teacher lurched in close to the three, teeth bared. 

“You three were behind this, weren’t you?”

The alien vanished, and wind rushed all around Gakushu, faster than he’d ever felt, but he stayed stock-still in his seat, frozen in place. 

Their teacher reappeared just a moment later with a clatter of metal and stone.

“Are those…” Muramatsu’s voice was faint and trembling, “the nameplates to our houses?”

Gakushu forced himself to look back to the alien with wide eyes. Sure enough, a pile of nameplates from the students’ homes were sat in the small space between Terasaka’s gang and the alien.

“The contract I signed with the Japanese Government prevents me from harming those in Class 3-E, but let it be known that the agreement does not apply to your families, your friends…”

“If any of you attempt such a reckless assassination again, I might just harm someone else.” The alien tossed aside the metal nameplate reading Asano. 

Nowhere on this Earth would be safe from this monster.

“Y-You got some nerve!” Terasaka shouted. Muramatsu shuffled behind him. Yoshida stared down at the pile of nameplates.

“You show up with your ’assassinate me!’ and your ‘ ’ll blow up the Earth at Mach 20’ but when we use an underhanded tactic, you get all pissy? Make up your mind!”

“Underhanded?” Their teacher asked lightly, “not at all!” 

In an instant, the mod shifted, and their teacher turned to Nagisa to pick him up onto his own feet, setting him down with a pat on the head.

“The strategy itself was quite novel, and Nagisa’s execution of it was nothing short of full marks.” 

Gakushu and the spooky-looking girl- Hazama- exchanged a perplexed look.

Their teacher turned back to Terasaka again reprimandingly.

“It was the lack of care for Nagisa that I have such an issue with! No one- not even Nagisa himself- thought about the consequences of him getting hurt!”

Gakushu watched Muramatsu crouch down and slowly take his house’s nameplate from the floor into his pocket

“An assassination must be one that the assassin can  look back on with pride!” Their teacher continued, “You’re all full of potential, with that power in you as assassins, so don’t let self-sacrificial ideas box you in. Just a few pointers from your teacher and your target!”

The class was silent for a few minutes as the students processed the unsolicited advice. 

“Right, then!” Their teacher clapped his tentacles together. “Let’s make sure all of our weapons are in working order for tomorrow! I want your guns to be spic-and-span, and then you’ll be able to go home!”

And quick as that tension-filled moment arrived, it ended. 

Gakushu took out his carbine and did his best to follow along with their teacher’s instruction on disassembly, his mind racing faster than the alien’s movements.

He didn’t… understand, to put it lightly. 

If a student managed to actually kill the alien, even if it cost their own life, wouldn’t it be worth it? Are any one of their easily-replaceable lives worth the fate of mankind? Of the entire earth?

Or does someone value somebody simply because they know them and not the other party? Is it easier to not switch the lever on the trolley track if you know that single person on one track and don’t know the other five?

Why shouldn’t they try everything they can, even altruistic suicide to kill the unkillable?

Gakushu pushed his pen against the pin that stopped the buffer spring and caught the buffer in his other hand when it shot out, wiping down the soot.

A guy with grey hair threw up his hands in resignation- Sugaya. “Why do we even try? Our teacher’s unkillable.”

“An unkillable teacher…” Kayano- a recent transfer to Kunugigaoka- lifted her head in thought. “Korosensei?”

Nagisa parroted the term, and Gakushu raised an eyebrow when their teacher perked up.

“Yeah, I like it!” Nakamura snapped her fingers, and the class was abuzz with chatter.

Gakushu fixed a look to the newly named Korosensei and slotted the buffer back into the buttstock.

Chapter Text

Two days later found the End Class practicing with their ‘Anti-Koro’ weapons in earnest, alternating between knife training and marksmanship while Korosensei sized them up and gave them pointers on how best to kill him.

Gakushu was starting to feel a little out of place, what with how naturally the rest of his classmates were taking to this bizarre situation. 

The idea of killing a teacher was not foreign to him, but to actually try- and to be encouraged to do so by the teacher himself- certainly was.

It made his fingers feel stiff when he unloaded the magazine into the rough center of the target. 

“Wow!” The brunette- her name was Yada- exclaimed beside him. “You’re practically a natural with that, Asano!”

Gakushu glanced over to the target and tsked lightly. Two of the bullets were in the middle ring. An 83% accuracy rate wasn’t cause for praise, but he still nodded to Yada and watched her flit off to the next marksman in order to shirk her own assignment.

Kataoka on the other side of him set her own pistol.

“You seem remarkably skilled with both the pistol and the knife, Asano,” she said cooly, yet inquisitive, “did you have prior experience?”

Gakushu nodded. “My father thought it pertinent to teach me self defense shortly after my fifth birthday. Too many creeps, apparently. He stopped after I turned seven and was able to take martial arts classes.”

Kataoka got a troubled look on her face, so he took that time to reload, taking the empty magazine out and placing it in the pocket of his gym pants. 

He made a move to replace it when he felt a hand start to rest on his shoulder.

Operating on years of instinct, he kicked back against the assailant’s leg and whirled around to kick them in the chest, pushing the barrel of the gun against their head with a sobering click, click, click.

Akabane Karma stared back at him with huge eyes and a conflicted grin, sat back on his own ass with one hand outstretched in an aborted motion and a juicebox crushed under his other, the barrel pressed solidly between his eyes.

“Ah.” Gakushu said, dumbly.

“Asano!” Korosensei screeched, a little late to the fiasco for a creature that brags about being twice as fast as hypersonic spacecraft on the daily. He let the tentacle pluck the pistol out of his hands and deposit it safely on the stand behind him.

“Your reaction time is admirable,” Korosensei admonished, “but your trigger discipline is simply fatal! Imagine if that was me! Or worse, if it was loaded with real bullets?”

Gakushu let Korosensei berate him some more, his eyes not leaving Akabane even as he stepped back to let the redhead right himself.

Though Korosensei was speaking, Gakushu could practically hear the chairman’s cold censure over his lack of ammo awareness. 

Akabane cleared his throat, apparently not swayed by the alien octopus, but more so Gakushu’s ironic inadequate training in weapons combat basics.

“Wow,” Akabane purred, “What, not even a sorry? I didn’t realize you cared so little for my life, Asano. Makes me feel sad, y’know?” He faked a sniff and leaned into Gakushu’s arm. 

He huffed, shaking the other off of him before turning back to the gun. Gakushu’d just slapped the new magazine into the pistol when he finally processed Akabane being there.

“Isn’t it Wednesday, Akabane?” The aforementioned terror turned to look at him openly, “What the hell are you doing showing up just now, after you’ve been three days late?!”

He leveled a glare at Akabane, and Akabane responded with a smirk.

The redhead leaned in closer to Gakushu, about to answer, before the flailing octopus flashed right between them.

“I concur, mister Akabane!”

The boys both recoiled on instinct.

Korosensei raised a slimy tentacle hand in a squishy sort of finger-point.

“I understand that your suspension ended today, young man, but you’re still several hours late for class! tardiness is not allowed here, I'm afraid!” Korosensei’s head turned purple at that, a cartoonish ‘x’ symbol across his face. 

Gakushu felt his stomach turn a little bit watching it, but he couldn't really look away, not when Akabane just laughed a little and held out his hand to the octopus man amicably.

“Aw, jeez, I’m sorry, teach. It’s been difficult to readjust, I suppose. Feel free to call me by my first name- Karma.”

Gakushu knew a little bit about Akabane’s sadistic streak firsthand from back when Akabane was still in 1-A.

He and Akabane would eat together sometimes, and the other boy would bring his own lunch and let his classmates try some of his only to laugh when their faces turned red from whatever mix of spices he’d put in there. 

It happened like clockwork every time. He and Akabane would be sitting desk-to-desk until a classmate asked a naive question and Akabane would get this… glint in his eye. 

A glint in his eye that he had right now as Korosensei reached to reciprocate the handshake only to have the appendage melted straight off.

Chapter Text

Korosensei pulled back immediately, narrowly dodging the knife that Akabane tucked into his sleeve, but the damage was already done.

A puddle of yellow goo squelched under Akabane’s shoe. The substance slipped off the leather and back into the dirt before slithering back to the teacher and reforming with the rest of his arm with a little flourish. Gakushu felt a little queasy at the sight. Kataoka let out a soft gasp.

“Wow…” Akabane laughed breathlessly, “you’re really as fast as they said you’d be, huh?”

His grin sharpened. “And these are just as effective against you as they said they’d be.” He lifted his hand and Gakushu noticed the green shards taped to it. Anti-Koro knives.

“But for all your speed,” Akabane continued, “you’re really naive. I can’t believe you fell for such a simple move.” He took a step forward and Korosensei took a step back. 

“You jumped so far back, too. Are you scared?” He taunted.

The scuffle had attracted a crowd; the entire class had gathered to watch in amazement. Next to him, Gakushu heard Isogai and Kimura chatter under their breath. It made sense. None of them had managed to actually hit Korosensei in the three days they’d been here, and yet Akabane managed the first hit within the first minute of them meeting.

Admittedly, he was a little jealous.

Akabane moved even closer, till he was within a good arm’s reach of the octopus, with a wide, sadistic grin on his face. “Those government guys went on and on about how you’re unkillable, but are you actually just a total pushover?” 

Korosensei… didn’t say a word in response. He just let Akabane walk off the field and into the schoolhouse, twirling the Anti-Koro knife in his hand.

He glanced over to Gakushu, and they both paused for a moment.

Without dropping eye contact, Akabane spun the knife again before folding it into his pocket. Gakushu didn’t blink. Finally, Akabane grinned, looked away, and started walking to the building again.

“What was that about, Asano?” Nagisa came up to him. He saw blue hair in his periphery.  Gakushu didn’t break his stare at Akabane’s back. 

“I don’t know. But nothing good comes from that guy, so it can’t be good.”

___

And nothing good did come from it. 

*squish*

Korosensei was in a funk ever since that morning, and it showed with the way he was merely going through the motions. 

* squish*

Class 3-E had a quiz scheduled for after P.E, and though their teacher usually emphasized the importance of silence in academics, there was an unmistakable-

* squish*

-squishing sound emanating from the front of the room, courtesy of their teacher. Gakushu couldn’t see what he was doing from the back of the room, but he’d guessed that Korosensei was punching the wall. 

* squish*

Either that or he was playing with a can of Flarp. 

* squish*

Regardless, it was incredibly annoying and had been going on for too-damned-long, to the point where Gakushu wanted to shout at the teacher to-

* squish*

“SHUT UP!” Okano suddenly screamed, launching an Anti-Koro knife into the wall beside the teacher.

“We’re trying to take a quiz!” 

Korosensei withered pitifully, but thankfully stopped the stupid squishing noise. Okano sat back down with a huff, and Gakushu whispered a ‘thank you’ for the intervention.

To Gakushu’s right, though, the true source of the problem continued. 

“Are you sure you should still be here, Karma?” Muramatsu whispered.

Akabane.

“Yeah,” Terasaka said- significantly louder-, “that monster’s pissed. If I were you, I’d take this as an excuse to hole up back home.”

Chatting it up with Terasaka and his group of slackers because he certainly fit right in.

Akabane shrugged. “You’d be pissed too, if you were nearly killed.”

Gakushu didn’t actually need silence, since he’d already finished the quiz a while ago, but it was not only the principle of the matter but also one of the only things stopping Gakushu from killing something and becoming Earth’s savior- either Korosensei or Akabane would do.

Gakushu shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair, head touching the wall. It didn’t block out the noise, but it did ease his migraine a little bit.

“Although,” Akabane teased, “maybe not you in particular. After all, the only thing you did was piss yourself , hm?”

There was a dull thump, like Terasaka just punched his desk. “I did not piss myself!” He shouted. Akabane laughed.

Gakushu’s head throbbed and he scrunched his eyes shut further at the noise.

“Hey!” Korosensei said, “no noise during the test!-” 

“-Says you,” Hazama groaned. 

“-You’re lucky I haven’t counted this as cheating!”

Akabane hummed. Gakushu needed an aspirin.

“Sorry, teach. I already finished the quiz. So I’ll just eat this gelato.”

Where the fuck did he get gelato? 

“Not during class, you won’t!” Korosensei lectured. 

Suddenly, he made a noise of realization.

“...W-wait! That’s the gelato I got when I flew to Italy yesterday! How did you get that?!”

“The staff room.” Akabane answered simply.

Korosensei stuttered for a response. 

“I-you.. It’s-... Do you know how hard it was to get that back here safely? I flew through the mesosphere just to keep it at the perfect temperature!” His voice went low- shivering. “It’s only -15 celsius up there…”

“Oh well.” Akabane said simply. “Whaddya gonna do? Hit me?”

Gakushu wondered how his life got so mindlessly insane to the point where this exchange sounded normal.

“No! I’ll just take back whatever’s left, obviously!”

There was a squishing, melting sound, and then gunshots. Gakushu cracked an eye open to see Korosensei with one less leg-tentacle, Anti-Koro pellets on the floor, and a gun in Akabane’s hand.

“You fell for it again!” Akabane laughed, but it sounded empty. “I’m just gonna keep using the same tricks, over and over again…” 

Akabane stood up and closed the distance between him and the octopus, gun in one hand and gelato in the other. 

“I don’t care if it interferes with class. You don’t like it?” His voice went high, the edge of hysterical. “Then kill me. But the minute you do,” Akabane smashed the cone into Korosensei’s chest, “you’ll lose.”

“You won’t be a teacher- you won’t be ‘Korosensei,’- you’ll just be a murderer. A monster. I may die, but I’ll kill your rep as a teacher along with me.”

With that, Karma walked past Korosensei, throwing his test his way. “I probably got ‘em all right, no need to praise me.” 

Gakushu glanced over, and by the look on Korosensei’s face, he was right on the mark. 

Akabana slid the door open. “See ya, sensei.” 

It shut with a clack that kept the tension in the room.

Gakushu sighed and got up, too. 

“I’ll go get him.” He groused.

He handed his own paper to Korosensei, who took it without complaint, and followed Akabane’s path out of the building.

___

He met Akabane just far enough from the class building to justify calling it the forest again.

Akabane was leaning against a tree, staring at the main building with an indescribably condescending and bitter look on his face.

“What brings you here, Ace? Or- rather, former Ace?”

Gakushu sighed. “You can’t just insult your way out of a conversation, Akabane.”

Akabane huffed and turned away. Gakushu followed him back into view.

“Why are you so dead-set on provoking him? For all intents and purposes, he’s not nearly as bad as other teachers.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Akabane retorted, “push him enough and he’ll show his true colors.”

“His true colors are yellow, Akabane.”

The redhead rolled his eyes and moved to leave, but Gakushu grabbed his arm. He moved closer, trapping Akabane between him and the tree.

“This isn’t just about you being an asshole by nature or the octopus being our target. There’s something more to this, isn’t there?”

He and Akabane stared at each other in silence for a while, purple against yellow.

“There’s something more to you, isn’t there?” 

Gakushu’s voice was softer than he meant it.

Finally, Akabane blinked and looked away. He pushed Gakushu away and Gakushu let him. 

“No, there isn’t.”

Chapter Text

Something must have happened to Akabane overnight because he was back to his chipper, annoying, homicidal-to-famicidal self like clockwork. Gakushu felt regretful over even worrying about him, truth be told.

He started his antics before school even started. Gakushu and the rest of Class 3-E had walked in to find a rotting octopus with an Anti-Koro blade lodged into its brain splayed proudly across Korosensei’s desk. It wasn’t yellow, but Gakushu found the effort commendable regardless. 

He and Hara shared a look. Isogai sighed.

“You’d think with how early he’d have to have been to set this up that he’d be here sooner.” The class president said, staring at his empty seat.

Hazama, who’d gotten in around the same time- early- snorted. “He wouldn’t be caught dead coming to class early. He’s a delinquent through-and-through.”

“Even if his grades say otherwise…” Gakushu agreed. “What a tryhard.”

The four of them began opening the windows since the octopus would start to stink by the time Korosensei got in.

Hara stood up from straightening her desk. “How long do you think it’ll take for Karma to give up?”

Gakushu hummed. “Depends on how the octopus decides to discipline him.” 

Kataoka and Kurahashi came in just then, and he motioned with his head for them to ignore the desk for now.

“I give him a day.” Hazama wagered.

“Guys, we shouldn’t hold bets on how quickly our teacher breaks a classmate’s spirit.” Isogai protested.

“But…” Kurahashi wheedled, staring up at him expectantly. Isogai looked conflicted. “...But…. I give him till tomorrow.”

 Gakushu huffed a laugh. “You guys give him too much credit,” he muttered. “he’ll break before noon.”

___

Needless to say- with Korosensei turning Akabane’s seafood threat into actual seafood- Gakushu was starting to think his bet wasn’t far off the mark.

First period- Math- was much less creative: a simple gun-while-his-back’s-turned attempt that ended with a manicure for Akabane. 

Fourth period- Home Ec.- resulted in Akabane in a frilly pink apron with a matching blush, a picture of juxtaposition that Gakushu totally didn’t save for later blackmail. 

In sixth period, Gakushu wasn’t even sure the redhead even made an attempt before Korosensei started brushing out his hair with various combs and clips. 

For such tough talk, Akabane sure was getting disappointingly mediocre.

Gakushu made sure to tell him as much during lunch break after Korosensei flew off to some other country for cheap food before his paycheck hit.

“You’re getting sloppy, Akabane.” 

The other glared up at him from his lunchbox- familiarly red-hot with spice. 

“Thanks for the information, Ace,” he spat, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Gakushu leaned in closer, hands on Akabane’s desk; he leaned back in response. He studied the other for a moment, staring into his eyes sharp like pinpricks.

“Something’s wrong with you.” He said finally.

Akabane flared. “With me?” He shouted incredulously. “Something’s wrong with you first!”

“Even your insults are less creative than usual. Is something on your mind?” Gakushu tilted his head a bit, eyebrows scrunched.

Suddenly, blue was in his vision. Nagisa.

“Hey, guys… Let’s not start anything serious right now!” He interjected. His voice, though nervous, didn’t waver. Gakushu straightened and fixed Akabane a hard stare before stabbing a chopstick into Akabane’s food.

“Either figure it out or leave us out of it.” He said, popping the speared karaage into his mouth. “It’s annoying when you disrupt class for another failed plan.”

He and Akabane held the stare for a solid few moments- to Nagisa’s visible chagrin- before Gakushu relented and returned to Hazama and his group across the classroom.

___

Turns out Akabane did figure it out. The problem with that was-

“Are you fucking serious, Akabane?!”

-he decided to pull a Nagisa and try to kill Korosensei using himself as live bait.

When he heard about it on the way down the path after school courtesy of Yoshida, Gakushu pulled a full 180 and sprinted over to where he saw Akabane last: headed to the sheer cliff on the far side of the mountain, where he saw Korosensei already speaking to the redhead. Gakushu stopped in his tracks when he saw them.

His shouting interrupted their conversation, and the three of them- Nagisa was nearby, too- jumped at his shouting.

Akabane, contrary to Gakushu’s own wild, wide eyes, had a relaxed expression of self-actualization, only mildly startled by his outburst. 

Can’t you self-actualize without a near-death experience, please? Gakushu screamed in his head. 

“Why,” Akabane asked airily, “are you everywhere?”

Gakushu stared- a little dumbstruck- at the boy.

“BECAUSE I JUST HEARD THAT YOU WILLINGLY FELL BACKWARDS OFF A CLIFF?” He screamed, running the remaining distance to grab Akabane by the lapels of his stupid blazer and shake him silly.

“You do realize that if you die , it's technically a scandal for the whole school? Do you really think this place needs any further investigation?” Gakushu pressed, staring into Akabane’s eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Asano!” Korosensei chided, “I understand your worry, but-” 

“-Do you?!” Gakushu swerved his head sharply. “Do you really understand? This is the second time a student has nearly died under your watch! I’m starting to think you have a subconscious air that makes these kids want to kill themselves,” Korosensei balked, but he continued, incensed, “unless that’s just the natural state for the End Class!”

Gakushu didn’t understand why his heart was still racing, why his mind was screaming at him, why his mouth wouldn’t shut. Every fiber of his body was screaming like a rabbit being pursued by a pack of dogs even though the danger had already abated. His lungs weren’t getting enough air and his words were turning hoarse even when he inhaled so deep he could hear the rattle. 

“Asano, you need to calm down, he’s okay!” Nagisa placated. 

“Clearly not!” Gakushu snapped, shaking the redhead again to accentuate his point, “Because he just jumped off a fucking cliff!”

He turned back to Akabane, hysterical. “Why?!” 

The redhead gaped for a second as he took in Gakushu’s frenzied expression.

“To- to kill him…?” He answered dumbly. 

Wrong. Answer. Gakushu fumed, feeling a vein pop in his forehead.

“If that plan could've worked, don’t you think that I would've tried it before you?!” He shouted. He wanted to calm down, to get enough air in his lungs to properly dissect Akabane’s flawed logic, but his body was still running on autopilot and adrenaline. 

Akabane squeezed his wrists and Gakushu released his grip on his jacket, letting the other drop back to the dirt unceremoniously. 

“I realize that now!” He carped, rubbing the back of his head before putting that hand over his heart in a mock oath. “I promise, no more kamikaze missions. Scout’s honor.” 

Gakushu closed his eyes and took a deep breath in exasperation. Then, he lunged at Akabane.

Korosensei had to peel him off the other boy kicking and screaming.

“YOU ARE SO GODDAMNED CHILDISH, WHY CAN YOU NOT BE SERIOUS FOR FIVE SECONDS, YOU TRYHARD DELINQUENT-!” 

“-WHY ARE YOU SO ANGRY AT ME-?!” 

“-I ALREADY TOLD YOU WHY-!”

___

It took an embarrassingly long time for them both to calm down. 

Eventually, Gakushu’s heart stopped hammering in his chest and he glanced over at Akabane, who stared back blankly. 

“Don’t do that again.” Gakushu demanded, and meant it.

The other nodded. “I promise.” Akabane obliged, and meant it.

Satisfied, Korosensei gave the three a pat on the head that they each rejected at knifepoint.

“You’re all welcome to come try and kill me tomorrow, but it is getting late.”

Akabane sighed and put his hands in his pockets, walking back to the mountain path. “He’s right, we should start heading back.”  

Nagisa dusted himself off and shot Gakushu an understanding look before running to Akabane’s side, Gakushu following suit. 

“Yeah,” the blue-haired boy agreed, “I’m hungry, anyways.” 

Akabane got a glint in his eye at that. “Ooh, good timing. Let’s go to that diner on the corner, my treat!” 

He tossed a coin purse in his hand that was- notably- not his own. Gakushu lifted an eyebrow at him. Akabane returned the look with his own mirthful glint before emptying the contents into his hand and tossing the now-empty purse over his shoulder and onto the ground.

Korosensei flustered in the distance, and the three shared a laugh at his misery.

Gakushu felt a weight ease off his heart, just a little bit, when he saw their easy smiles.