The Assassin's Hymn {KNY x Assassination Classrooom}

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The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a ghostly glow over the battlefield. The air was thick with the scent of blood and ice, the wind howling like a vengeful spirit. Snowflakes swirled around them, illuminated by the eerie light, but none of it mattered. Not when he stood before them.

Upper Moon Two.

His serene smile was nothing more than a twisted mask, a mockery of the carnage surrounding them. His rainbow-colored eyes glimmered with amusement as he twirled his sharp fans between his fingers, his gaze settling on the trio before him.

Sanemi's grip on his katana was so tight his knuckles turned white, his teeth clenched in pure, unfiltered rage. "You bastard..." he growled.
Beside him, [name], the Moon Hashira, tightened her grip on her blade, eyes locked onto the demon who had haunted her nightmares for years. "Stay focused, Shinazugawa-san," she warned, her voice steady despite the rage bubbling beneath the surface. "Don't let your fury blind you."

Sanemi let out a bitter chuckle. "I could say the same to you."

She smirked. "Then let's shut up and kill him."
Douma tilted his head, a glint of excitement flashing across his expression. "Oh? How exciting! Three little Hashira, standing together against me?" He laughed, the sound hollow. "How long do you think you'll last?"

They didn't waste another second.

Sanemi lunged first, his blade cutting through the cold night air. "Wind Breathing, First Form: Dust Whirlwind Cutter!" The air twisted violently around him, sharp gusts slicing toward Douma at lethal speeds.

Douma flicked his wrist. A wall of ice erupted between them, shattering upon impact but dulling the blow. "Not bad," he mused, sidestepping effortlessly.

Before he could counter, Muichiro moved in. His blade was a blur, his form weaving through the mist he created. "Mist Breathing, Third Form: Scattering Mist Splash!" He vanished and reappeared behind Douma, his sword flashing toward the demon's neck.

But Douma turned, smirking as he parried the strike with the edge of his fan. "You slayers always go for the neck," he sighed, sounding almost bored. "How predictable."

"Wind Breathing, Fifth Form: Cold Mountain Wind!"

Sanemi's fierce attacks created a whirlwind around Douma, forcing him to maintain his balance. In that moment, Muichiro rejoined the fray, weaving through the mist to deliver a series of rapid strikes, each one landing with precision.
But Douma absorbed the blows with ease, his form reforming from the damage. "You really think you can defeat me? I've feasted on countless Hashira," he mocked. The demon  paused for a moment, barely dodging [name's] attack, "you seem oddly familiar."

"Yeah, you bastard!! You killed her!! I was there!!"

"It was a demon who looked like blood had been dumped all over its head...and spoke calmly and kindly"

"...He was grinning and laughing as if he had told a terribly bad joke."

"The weapon that demon uses is a pair of sharp fans."

Douma's eyes lit up as if a light bulb went off of his head. "Oh, that's right, the flower girl, correct?" He smiled sadistically, "a shame I didn't get to take a bite of her before the sun rose up, what a pity indeed. She could've lived in paradise with  me." His rainbow colored eyes shot to [name] with such intent. "Why don't you join me, become one with me, or better, become a demon! You can live much longer than a regular human."
Douma leaped back, dodging with unsettling grace. And then, he laughed.

Her breath hitched.

Something inside [Name] snapped.

"You—" her voice was low, shaking with fury.
"She had such pretty eyes," Douma continued, placing a hand over his heart in mock sorrow. "Such a waste of potential."

"YOU KILLED HER!"

The battlefield exploded with energy.

"MOON BREATHING, FIRST FORM: DARK MOON, EVENING PALACE!"

A devastating arc of crescent-shaped slashes tore through the air, slicing through the ice-covered ground and forcing Douma to leap back. But [Name] wasn't finished.

She lunged, her blade dancing in the moonlight, each strike filled with rage, pain, and vengeance.
Douma grinned, barely blocking the relentless onslaught. "Ah, so much passion! You really are like her, you know?" He deflected a strike, twirling effortlessly. "But what a waste."

"Shut up!!"

Sanemi joined in, his blade moving in a deadly whirlwind. "Dance of the Wind! Fourth Form: Rising Dust Storm!" His sword blurred as he attacked from the opposite side, forcing Douma into a corner.

Muichiro, his mind eerily calm, saw his opening.
"Mist Breathing, Seventh Form: Obscuring Clouds!"
He vanished into a thick mist.

For the first time, Douma's expression faltered.

Then, he smiled.

A burst of frigid energy erupted from his body. Ice shards rained from the sky, razor-sharp, striking the battlefield like spears.

In the chaos, no one saw them coming.

No one saw them piercing into [name]'s back.