"Can anyone tell me where Yoshida went wrong in his assassination attempt?" Shiota-sensei asked the students as he walked up and down the rows of students.

No one answered for a while, but then Seno Hiroya, a boy with greenish hair and several piercings, piped up, "You said it wasn't creative enough, Shiota-sensei."

"And?"

"And that numbers didn't make up for it?"

Shiota-sensei nodded. "Exactly. You can't rely on brute force in every situation. Some things require more tact than that. Now, where did Futaki go wrong in his assassination attempt?"

"He had to be a sulky bitch when it went wrong," Growled Yoshida. Domen laughed cruelly. Futaki ignored them both, keeping his eyes trained on his hands.

Shooting the two boys a stern look, Shiota-sensei shook his head. "That's not correct. It's natural to feel annoyed when things don't go your way. These feelings aren't bad, it's just what you do with them that can be. For example, I think that Futaki has taken that annoyance and is trying to think of the next way to assassinate me." Futaki jumped and looked up at the trainee teacher in surprise.

The man smiled back at him. "Did I hit the nail on the head with that one?"

Futaki just stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

"No, that's not where he went wrong. What he did wrong was thinking that such a simple trick would fool someone who was well aware of the assassination attempts he'd face upon entering." Shiota-sensei looked around the class with a warm sternness. "I'm no idiot. I'm completely aware of what I've asked you to do. That doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you. It's not like it's impossible to kill me, you just have to try a little harder."

The students all looked at him, seeming stunned. Yoshida clenched his fists. "Why are you even doing this?" He asked rudely. "It's stupid."

Shiota-sensei laughed. "It's just what I do."

.:*:.

"Dammit, I just can't teach that kid!"

"It's alright. At least he's not a troublemaker."

"He only ever answers to roll-call! How can you teach someone like that? How can they get the communication skills they need?"

"At least his grades are good. He always passes-"

"-But he never gets the perfect score. I'm sure he could, he's a bright kid."

"He doesn't try and that attitude isn't going to help him when the third year rolls around."

"I think he should be put in Class 2-5 for now."

"That class is full of savages! There's no way the poor boy will survive!"

"Yeah, you're handing the kid a death sentence!"

"I know, I know. Hopefully, he'll be out of it by the third year."

"Hopefully."

At first glance, you wouldn't notice Futaki. But, upon closer inspection, you'd feel scared. His hair was white, straight and grew a little past his chin. It dangled in his face a little and hung in a fashion that seemed dead. His face was usually unreadable and his eyes were blue. His skin was too pale and the school uniform was baggy on him. Even in the summer, he'd wear a blazer than hung limply off his shoulders. He always skipped PE, and the PE teachers had never seen him once, not even in his first year. Underneath all the baggy clothes, he could be a skeleton.

Not that is would've surprised anyone. Futaki was known by most in the school as 'Ghost Boy'.  All his clothes seemed to hang off of him like sheets and he only ever answered to roll call. Soon or later, teachers seemed haunted by him. How can you teach someone who never says anything more than, 'Here, sensei'? That was why he was in Class 3-5. Participation matters at Paradise High, especially when you're a freak.

Futaki didn't know why he was speaking more now. Maybe it was to do with the trainee teacher. There was something freaky about him too. It was the way he behaved, the way he knew things. And his strange fascination with assassination. That's what he called it. He didn't say murder or kill much. It was assassination. How funny.

Futaki typed away at his keyboard, looking intently at the screen. He clicked, 'search' but he what he found just confused him more.

On the first day of the new year, Shiota-sensei had written, 'The Reaper', on the board. It had piqued his interest, obviously, and he hoped a Google search would tell him what it meant. But all he saw were pictures of the Grimreaper and links to videos on Youtube. How annoying. This couldn't be what Shiota-sensei meant.

With an annoyed sigh, he switched over to a new tab and searched up, 'Shiota Nagisa."

He didn't find anything again. He scrolled through Youtube, hoping to find at least one stupid video posted by a drunk friend, possibly. Nothing. Futaki clenched his fists.

If the internet had nothing about a teacher obsessed with classy murder, he'd have to put in more work. Not his style.

.:*:.

"That boy is a monster."

"A complete animal, I know."

"He never does any work, I don't think he even touches his midterm papers."

"Not to mention, he's far too violent to be kept in the normal classes."

"I can't believe we'll have to put him in 1-5 already. I thought we wouldn't have to do any of that until the second year at least!"

"Well, he'll be on his own. Fewer students will get hurt and maybe he'll sort out his attitude."

"Shame, really. But what else can you do with a kid like him?"

"Class 1-5 should fix him up. No students to show off to, no one to compete against. Just him and the teacher. It should be fine."

So Yoshida was going to have to put in more work. That was not his style. He liked relying on his lackeys to get the job done. But that didn't seem possible.

A nasty bruise was forming on his chest where Shiota-sensei elbowed him. He had worse, obviously, being the boss of thugs but this hurt his ego more. Yoshida growled to himself, getting up off his bed and snatching up his phone, dialling a number.

"Yoshida?" Asked Seno, picking up the phone. "What do you need?"

"I need you to get Domen to meet me up behind the bar," Yoshida ordered airily.

"Why don't you do it?" Seno grunted.

"Because he'll never listen to me. Just do it, Seno, or I'll pay you a visit."

Seno audibly gulped. "Yes, sir! I'll text him now!"

Yoshida hung up and dropped his phone into his pocket, preparing to leave the house. He snuck out through his bedroom window, landing onto the ground and making his way through the dark streets. He reached the alleyway before Domen, it seemed, and he used the time to text his two favourite servants.

Aozora and Fujikawa lived closer than most to the alley behind the bar so they arrived soon. It was only a minute afterwards when Domen finally showed up.

He looked at the three boys, hand in his pockets. "What, you're going to beat me up now? While I'm still wrapped up in bandages? How brave."

"We're not gonna hurt you, Domen," Yoshida said with a snarl. "At least, we don't plan to. We're gonna try get that stupid trainee tomorrow and you're helping."

"Am I?"

Aozora nodded, squinting at him. "Me and Fujikawa are gonna hold him down and you two are gonna stab him."

Domen raised an eyebrow, striking a haughty pose. "That easy, huh?"

Fujikawa shrugged. "Well, he can't move if we're pinning him down so yeah, basically. That easy."

"You're telling me, after your plan went shit today, that this is going to be any better?" Domen sniffed. "It's the same thing, just with an extra step."

Yoshida gave him a predatory glare. "Are you on our side or not, Domen? Or would you rather work with Ghost Boy on this?"

Domen instantly stiffened and glowered back. "Fine, Yoshida, I'll help. But don't blame me when it goes haywire, got it?"

"Just do as I say, dipshit, or you're going straight back to the hospital."