The Assassin's Hymn {KNY x Assassination Classrooom}

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"FIRST FORM: LOW Clouds, Distant Haze..." the Mist Hashira muttered, his voice as light as the fog that surrounded them.

Muichiro's blade glided through the air with effortless precision, the mist curling in its wake like ghostly tendrils.

"Eighth Form: Lunar Ouroboros," [Name] intoned, her grip tightening as she swung her sword in a powerful arc. The sheer force of her strike severed the demon's head cleanly, its body disintegrating before it could even process its demise.

Muichiro sheathed his blade with a soft click. "I think that was the last of them," he murmured, scanning the darkened forest with half-lidded eyes.

[Name] hummed in agreement, rolling her shoulders to shake off the exhaustion. "Who knew there would be so many demons in such a remote area?"

The night stretched on, eerie and silent now that the battle was over. The weight of fatigue pressed down on her, but she didn't complain. As a Hashira, this was her duty—no matter how relentless the fight, no matter how little rest she got.

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"One! Two! Three! Four! Five!"

The students of Class 3-E shouted in unison, their voices ringing through the outdoor training grounds. Beads of sweat dripped down their faces, soaking into their blue gym uniforms. The late afternoon sun bore down mercilessly, but none of them faltered.

"Six! Seven! Eight!" They pushed on, gripping their green training knives with determination.

Koro-sensei twirled a flower between his tentacles, sighing wistfully. "Ah, the sound of students training under the warm sun... How peaceful. It would be even more so if they weren't wielding weapons against their beloved teacher."

At the center of the field, Karasuma stood with arms crossed. "Swing your knives through all eight strikes without hesitation! No matter your stance, never lose your balance!" he barked.

"One! Two! Three! Four...!!" [Name] followed through with each strike, her movements fluid yet precise.

"And you—" Karasuma turned his glare on Koro-sensei. "I told you to go somewhere else during training!"

From one moment to the next, Koro-sensei was suddenly sulking in a sandbox, drawing circles in the sand with his tentacle. "You're cruel, Karasuma-san... Karasuma-sensei..."

The students barely batted an eye at his antics.

"Well... to say we loved him as a gym teacher is a bit of an overstatement," Sugaya commented dryly.

"No offense, Sensei, but when it comes to exercise, you set your expectations way too high," Sugino added.

[Name] chuckled, brushing stray hair from her face. "Your physical ability is far beyond ours, Sensei. Like that time with the sidesteps—"

"Or the cat's cradle!"

"Yeah, how were we ever supposed to keep up with that?"

Koro-sensei let out a dramatic sob, burying his face in his tentacles. "You finally succeeded in driving me away!"

Karasuma cleared his throat. "Alright, enough talk. Back to training!"

Maehara raised a hand, panting. "Karasuma-sensei, is there really a reason for practicing like this? And... in front of the target himself?"

Karasuma's sharp gaze settled on the class. "Studying and assassination are the same. Their usefulness is determined by learning the fundamentals."

[Name] zoned out. She had already mastered the fundamentals.