AN: Happy (almost!) 300k reads, oof. That's crazy. Even ALiVE (my longest story) didn't break that number until after it ended. 

35. Interval

"Ah, Nao-kun, great timing. There's a delivery for you, but there was no note of who sent it," Ms Sakurai said as Nao made his way back inside the house.

It's barely been a day since Nao returned from Okinawa.

"Ah, that's fine," Nao sets a hand on the medium-sized cardboard box in the delivery. There really wasn't a return address-- just the first three letters of his name, and nothing else. "I know who it's from."

He spends a moment finding the box cutter.

(Is it in his bathroom cabinet? Yep. He might be organized when it comes to work, but his general cleanliness and lifestyle? He's the messiest person around.)

When he opens it, he finds dried foods and snacks. There were also common beauty products like cream and lotion, along with genuine coffee beans.

It's not the first time he's received this mysterious care package.

And despite everything, he couldn't bear to just toss the whole thing away. Some of these things looked like they were worth a ton of money, after all.

When his siblings first ran out on him, these packages came every two to three months. Even after he got his life together, they didn't stop coming. He got an allowance from Kazumasa each month, so he reckoned this was from...

...yeah, her.

Maybe it was out of guilt, maybe this was just his ex-sister's unconventional way of indirectly telling him that she's still pretending to care.

(But that's not true. There's no way this is from Kazane.)

(From her husband, perhaps?)

(The bastard caused the situation in the first place, after all. He would be the only one with the connections to do so, and the only one with enough conscience to care.)

But Nao wasn't going to think too much about it. It was always better that way.

Especially now that Nao was involved with the assassination classroom and all its parties of interest, it was better to completely avoid having any note of their relation.

(He would have to pretend that this package was from a mysterious, unnamed sender, and simply accept it without question.

But something was strange. These packages usually arrived when Ms Sakurai wasn't home. Nao was suspiciously sure that it was always planned that way.

"...well, maybe they were in a rush."

Nao did vanish for a couple days to Okinawa, after all. Couldn't blame them for not wanting to wait if the timing didn't work out right.

It's not like he could call Kazane to ask if anything was wrong on her end.

(Not that he wanted to, either way.)

-

"The Class E Reeducation Department, huh," Nao hummed at the thought. "Tell me again what exactly this entails?"

This time in the office, Nao didn't take the chair that was set out for him, In fact, he purposefully stopped right before it, talking to the principal from there.

"You know, it's the tradition for every few semesters," Asano told him, arms folded under his chin in his usual, unsettlingly demure way. "Any Class E student scoring within the top fifty is permitted to re-enter the main campus, if you recall."

He thinks he remembers this. Barely.

It's a minor plot point of the story, so minor it was omitted from the anime altogether and was hidden in the dredges of some OVAs most people don't notice exist.

It's a little early (the second semester hasn't started yet,) but that's to be expected because he's a teacher with privileges. Those two points are not mutually exclusive, he swears.

"I already have a student in mind to propose as the Chairman of the new student body," Asano suggested with a smile, as if he wasn't literally organizing Hitler Youth, "and there's no one better to become acting advisor aside from you, Kunomasu-sensei. You are already performing a fraction of your duties, after all."

(So the biweekly activity report containing the supervision of Class E's grade level is part of the reeducation process, huh. Is that what he's calling it?)

"In case you've forgotten," Asano's voice lowers slightly, his eyes narrowing into a stern frown, "your mission up there, as my faculty, is to set their education secondary to the assassination, and report to me if any large changes occurred so I may adapt. I trust you have not forgotten that."

(Ah, there was that too.)

Nao looked away, "I am not particularly doing anything to increasingly aid their education," a blatant lie, "but I am certainly encouraging them to put their time into other things."

Like story writing, which indirectly affects their grades in a positive regard-- but Nao isn't going to tell him that.

Plus, assassination was sort of prominent compared to studies up there. It's just that they switch gears fluidly according to their situation, playing both roles perfectly whether he did anything or not.

(As apparent Head of the Class E Reeducation Department, Nao is doing exactly 100% and 0% of his work at the same time. He'll call that an achievement.)

"Gakushuu-kun got better grades than Kanzaki-san, didn't he? I gave Class A a clear edge in my subject, and I've given you all the information you sought for, which allowed you to lift the syllabus to match," Nao looked over with a slight smile.

He paused for a moment, a wisp of rascality rising in his chest as he chose his next words. 

"Perhaps it's simply a difference in educational methods that affected the outcome."

Something whipped past his face.

A projectile, shooting forward at a speed he couldn't see or react to-- coming to a shattering stop when it crashed against the door behind him.

Slowly, he turns around to see the remains of a broken mug on the floor.

(Did he just...?)

There's nothing he can do about the way his chest spikes painfully, trying to recover from the moment of horror. Well, that was the natural reaction. He's surprised he managed to hold off the startled yelp that almost escaped his throat.

(Seriously, Asano-san, this is why your wife left and your son hates you.)

Nao's smile was pulled tight as he turned back to the Board Chairman. He pretended he didn't just almost die and obediently stood there, waiting for the Chairman's next words. 

(Yeah, that was dumb. He is not going to do that again.) 

"I will overlook the insinuations of your previous comment," Asano bestowed his mercy. "Nevertheless-- let us return to the issue at hand. The new Committee will fully be implemented, with proper plans of managing the students of Class E into a better education lifestyle."

Right, back here.

In the guise of a student body that 'guides' and 're-educates' Class E, Asano can justify their skyrocketing improvement in grades, and even promote the efforts of the committee as the sole reason behind it.

Even if everyone in Class E inevitably become successful students, they can pin all that effort on the Class E Reeducation Committee, and the ensuing hierarchy will adjust.

It can also be generously emphasized during scouting efforts for high school, which is honestly a plus despite everything. Dishonest or not, extra credit was certainly appreciated no matter what.

"I do commend the idea," Nao will admit that much, "but if you plan to use a 'Student from Class E who returned to main campus with good grades' as the President of this committee I'm afraid it might be difficult."

"Oh? And why would that be so?"

Nao rested his weight on one leg, setting his hands on the chair before him. "I don't believe any of the students would be willing to return to the main campus at this point," he said. "Even if they do, it's likely they would not approve of this."

There's a moment of silence.

"You are implying they would defy me?" Asano asked. "Defy the expectations of society, of their parents... for that decrepit satellite classroom?"

He spoke out incredulously, as if making a point to show Nao how ridiculous that sounded. This was a realistic world, after all-- there was no way someone would willingly stay in the rock bottom when they had finally been given a spider's thread.

It may be more comfortable while they're together, but once time goes by and high school separates them-- real life would hit like a truck, and they would regret not aiming for an easier road to a good future.

(That would certainly be the case if Korosensei wasn't so unrealistically perfect.)

"What would I know," Nao straightened, a hand clenched over his heart. His smile strained a little. "Call it a literature teacher that's invested too much emotional effort into a script, I might be completely looking in the wrong direction and I wouldn't know until I get my test results back."

Asano didn't respond to the words.

He simply gave a meaningless chuckle, and waved a hand in dismissal.

"I believe we will receive our answers during assembly tomorrow, then," he said, confidence in every word as he spoke. "I won't take more of your time, Kunomasu-sensei. You may leave."

-

Nao avoided the broken mug as he went through the door, closed it behind him-- and then found the wall, letting his head droop heavily against it.

(Being put in a situation of fear like that really makes his heart ache. Literally, that is.)

He took a breath, not too deeply though, that would hurt. He kept his hand clenched over his chest-- and stayed there, for a long moment. 

If he breathed correctly for a bit longer, maybe he wouldn't cough blood.

(Yeah, talking to Asano about ideals is terrible for his physical constitution. Let's at least do that when there's nothing with projectile potential within arm's reach of him next time.)

"Kuma-sensei?"

Nao immediately stood straight.

"Gakushuu-kun," he addressed. The student is wearing his uniform, for some reason, "it's still summer vacation, so what brings you here?"

Gakushuu had come forward, looking a little worried.

"Just to study in the library, but that doesn't matter," he says, like a dismissive excuse. Evidently he did not miss the teacher's hunched form, and definitely isn't missing the pale, sickly look on his face. "Me aside. Are you feeling alright, sensei? Should I call a medic?"

Nao flustered, "no, no, I'm fine," he insisted.

Seriously, he should know better than to let his guard down like this. It's always such a pain to be fussed over, really.

He set a hand on Gakushuu's head. The boy scowled at that, slapping it away immediately.

"The Board Chairman didn't do anything, did he?" Gakushuu asked, his eyes narrowed dangerously, and his voice strangely cold.

(Well, aside from chucking a mug at me? No.)

Nao didn't word his thoughts, but his moment of silence was apparently clear enough of an answer for Gakushuu. 

Gakushuu turned sharply toward the Board Chairman's office, to which Nao had to hurriedly hold him back, "wait wait! What are you going to do?"

"I know how to handle him in his fits. If you tell him it's in light of your health, he'll watch himself from now on," Gakushuu said, completely serious. Then, with a sterner voice, "you're too much of an enabler to tell him that yourself, aren't you?"

Nao wanted to protest, but then he realized Gakushuu was right.

He resents the way it's phrased, though.

"Don't trouble the Board Chairman, Gakushuu-kun," Nao bargained, because he wasn't going to put him in danger for this, "he's in a mood anyways. And I don't want you to step on or touch the broken ceramic on the way in."

A pause.

"The broken what?!"

Oh crap.

"Right, Gakushuu-kun!" Nao immediately feigned an air of immense cheer, "there's a festival at the station today. How about we go together? It's the last day of summer vacation, after all-- I'll treat you to anything you want, as your Kuma-sensei favour."

"Do not change the subject, Kuma-sensei! I know what I heard!"

-

-

-

"Have no fear. All is done in the will of the Reaper."

In the misty, barren alleys of a certain slum, a silent gun fires.

There was no way Lovro could have dodged it-- he had only begun to register the pain, but the blood had already spread through his coat, and life liquid burst from the wound in a pressure accelerated by his own heartbeat.

Thick, heeled footsteps of business shoes-- that was all he heard as the Reaper walked away.

Lovro could not lift his head to see the face of his assassin-- he could only lay, accepting his fate with miserable frustration.

A breath later, the Reaper was simply gone with the mist.

Lovro thought he was going to die there-- bleeding out, cursed by his own complacency. An assassin only loses when he lets his guard down, after all-- this was his undeniable defeat, decided in seconds.

"Awh, I'm a little late, aren't I?"

There was the voice of a woman, and if Lovro wasn't losing consciousness, he may have shown a little more surprise.

"Heyy," like a distant little mock-holler, the woman called out to him. "You alive there, Mister Lovro Brovski? I know you're dying, but if you could show any sign?"

His eyes closed, and he heard nothing more.

"Ahh, what a pain," the woman whines. Straightening in her posture, she ran a hand through her hair-- a shade of brown, light as sand-- and hummed. "Wait there a minute, I'll see if I can get a healer round the block."

And then, she was gone.

Unlike the Reaper however, she came and went with no sound in her footsteps. She wandered in her steps, light and soundless as part of the cacophony.

(Like the wind.)