Music blasted throughout the floor, covering the cheers and chatters of the intoxicated teenagers. Bodies moved at the pace of the beat, colliding and mingling with one another. The scent of sweat mixed with that of the alcohol permeated the whole floor, leaving only a light fading smell of drugs for those who had a nose sharp enough to smell.

The dance floor covered about three fourth of the story, with bars boarding it, while the remaining fourth of the level had couches and tables for people to "chat," and exchange. Or, in other words, to flirt, gossip, fuck and do drugs.

It was a floor of abandonment where blackmail material ruled, and strong backing prevailed. Apart from the few teenagers who had more than a trick to escape the many traps laid in front of them, most youngsters found themselves embracing the night, disregarding their images and status. Forgetting their responsibilities and diving further into a pool of lust.

Lust for what?

It depended on the people. Some lusted for power, holding onto the strong and leaving them in the dust the moment they found someone more powerful. Others aimed for money, gambling their "pocket money" away as they tried to build a one night fortune before losing everything. Of course, there were also several youths that wished to possess the body.

This floor wasn't for the faint-hearted. Most of the girls and boys knew of it, and while they were aware of the black material they produced, they mostly chose to ignore it in favor of a one night bliss. Who told them to be born with a silver spoon, without proper guidance as they squandered their parents' money away?

At one of the many bars, a glass of coke with ice cubes in hand, a girl threw her head back to bark a laugh. The motion didn't have an ounce of elegance and didn't reflect her pedigree in the slightest. She slammed the glass down on the counter and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her Bordeaux red sweater. She slumped on her seat, her eyes misty from the night, and lips pursed in a slight pout. Her lips seemed glossy under the lighting, probably because of her drink, and her slightly disheveled look from all the dancing highlighted her cheeky and childish dispositions.

"Had fun?" the girl, with a face almost identical, asked as she tilted her head. In her smooth hand was an orange-colored cocktail that faded to red, a small parasol floated atop of it as if to give it a Summer vibe. Her neatly polished nude nails patiently drummed against the counter as she followed the beat of the loud music, eyes half-lidded and slightly dazed from her intake of alcohol.

Unlike the other girl who wore a pair of high waist dark brown shorts with golden zipper and a comfy Bordeaux sweater with some velvety black lining and thread, the other girl sported what looked like a wool dress that fell right above her knees. The dress showed off her shoulders, and underneath it was a skin-tight high-collared, sleeveless body with some lace patterns that allowed a bit of skin to peek out.

One seemed wild and childish, almost boyish, while the other seemed calmed and mature, nearly sexy under the dim light. Yet, if one was to carefully look into their eyes, they would spot the same emotions: a blend of mischievousness and anticipation.

The boyish girl grinned at her sister's words. She hummed, giggling as she pulled her phone out of her shorts' pocket. She gave it to the long-haired girl, satisfaction glinting in her eyes. "Hehe, who do you think I am?" she taunted with a grin. "You can see for yourself!"

The other merely hummed. Her long fingers slid across the screen after she unlocked the fingerprint lock, she went straight to the gallery. "Order what you want, it's on me," she told the other girl as she kept her eyes focused on the led screen of the phone.

The older twin didn't need anymore before she ordered a pint of beer. It wasn't that she was a fan of the beverage, truthfully she liked cocktails and wine more, but she knew that if she wanted to drink lots tonight, low alcohol drinks were best, so beer it would be.

The younger twin found what she wanted soon enough, a collection of pictures of some boys and girls. A calculative smirk played on her glossed lips before she exited the app, she pulled a pair of earbuds from her purse. "You've got an audio?" she asked the shorter girl. A nod was her answer. She plugged her earbuds and slightly narrowed her doe eyes as she focused on the sound coming out of them. The blasting music didn't help, but she would deal with it.

At last, a few seconds later, she pulled the earbuds from her ears and stored them away in her bag. Renaming the audio file, so that they could find it faster next time, she turned the phone off and handed it back to her sibling. An enticing smile on her lips, she fluttered her lashes at her sister.

"Now, that's my Hikari for you!" she cooed before bringing the other girl closer and laying a kiss on her cheek.

The other accepted the kiss without any form of resistance. She fluttered her lashes at the taller girl, leaning further into her. "What can I say? Anything for you, my Dear Kaori."

::

After their encounter with Smog, or so the hitman called himself, 3-E's loss of Karasuma-sensei's fighting strength deeply hurt their confidence in the success of the operation. With their homeroom teacher trapped into a bubble, Bitch-sensei giving a concerto at the reception, and Karasuma-sensei knocked out from inhaling drugs, the student found themselves alone, to fight against the mysterious perpetrator and their goons.

It wasn't that they lacked confidence in their individual skills— well, perhaps they did. But after encountering a pro and seeing how they worked, they admitted that they were on another league entirely. From their weapons of choice to the way they flawlessly executed their orders, there was nothing 3-E couldn't envy.

So when they came face to face with some samurai wannabe of western descent, one that could break double glazing with only the use of his grip, they were very logically put off. Even more so because his overall aura and speech didn't fit with one another— this was another problem entirely.

Either way, fortunately, or not, they managed to bring the man down— Karma did, for that matter, showcasing his talent in both the art of "assassination" and "pranking."

So now, here they were, a blond Grip tied to the ground and most students keeping him down by sitting on his back. As mentioned previously, Grip was a foreigner. He had chin-length wavy blond hair, similar to Irina's, and a pair of light blue eyes. He wore a white beaded necklace, a black t-shirt, and some leather pants with a panther printed long coat overall.

Karma approached the tied man, a playful smirk on his face as he gave the man one of his "innocent" closed-eyes smiles. He pulled two tubes of wasabi and approached the male.

"Now, let's proceed to the interrogation, shall we?" he chirped with a bright smile. Truthfully, Karma didn't expect much from it. He didn't think Grip would sell his client, but he needed to vent some frustration. "Now old man-nu," he called out, imitating the blond's way of speech. "It's time to show your spirit as a pro! Show me what you've got!" he sang as he uncapped the two tubes and plunged them into the foreigner's nostrils.

The "punishment" session lasted a few minutes, ten at most, before Karma ran out of munition. It wasn't without some disappointment that he took a step back and stuffed his hands in his pants. "Well, I guess that's all for today," he mused, as he looked down on Grip's figure with his mercury-colored eyes.

Grip laid practically motionless on the ground, mind muddled from the excess of spice. Still, he kept some lucidity and clear-mindedness, he was a pro. Karma's "torture" wasn't common, but it wasn't anything Grip couldn't endure. He blinked his blue eyes, taking in the redhead's words and refrained from sighing in relief. His throat felt prickly, much like his other orifices, from the pepper and chilly sauces.

He looked up, and his gaze met Karma's mildly satisfied one. Obviously, the teen wanted to tor— play with him a little longer. Grip ignored it and cleared his throat. The people he faced were children, and although he threatened them, he had no desire to kill them from the start, simply intimidate them into submission.

He knew who awaited them on the higher floors, and he also knew that Karma's tactics wouldn't work on them the way it worked on him. The two remaining hitmen were peculiar in their own way, and Karma's taunts, while Gastro could fall prey to them, Shadow wouldn't... He wasn't sure for his client, but he didn't care much for the male at this point. His pay was already in order, he had completed his job.

"What-nu? Something you want to add, old man-nu?" Karma barked with a provocating smirk on his lips as he openly mocked the hitman's speech.

Grip ignored the taunt. He wouldn't give the redhead the satisfaction of raising him. "Nonsense-nu," he countered. His voice felt raspier than before, and his throat seemed to burn as he enunciated every syllable of his sentence. It was most uncomfortable. Nonetheless, as a pro, Grip managed to keep his discomfort in check, not showing it to the teens as he continued. Perhaps only Koro-sensei and Karasuma-sensei caught it, but neither pointed it out.

"Although I lost, Young Warrior," Karma felt that this phrase was familiar, it reminded him of Grip's words before the torture session began. "I had fun-nu," Grip enunciated once again, and for once, Karma had to recognize the man's tenacity. "I will let you in on a secret-nu," he told him, his eyes minutely narrowing as he gazed into Karma's mercury eyes.

The mention of this secret brought out different reactions from the group. They grew more serious and attentive. Even Karasuma-sensei strained his ears to better hear and not miss a word while Koro-sensei fell silent, the smile on his face turning unreadable as he gazed at the hitman on the ground.

"Oh?" Karma vocalized, showing some interest in the blond's words. He crouched down to better look at the blond as he awaited his words. "Go on, we're listening."

Grip's lips twisted into a satisfied smile. He nodded. "Good, listen well, Young Warrior. On your path to the top, you will meet two other men before reaching the man you desire to confront," he told them. 3-E noted two things from these words. One, there were two remaining hitmen waiting for them somewhere in the hotel. Two, the perpetrator was male.

"I do not know how you managed to take Smog down," Grip admitted before his eyes flicked to the listless Karasuma. "But I have an idea, to take Smog down, you lost your best weapon, Young Warrior-nu," he explained.

This made the silent Koro-sensei laugh. "Now, now, do not belittle my students. They were the ones to take you down, fufu," the yellow striped-green ball in a plastic bag reminded.

Grip hummed, finding some truth in the alien's words. "Even so, Young Warrior—" perhaps it was because Karma was the one to take him down, but from start to finish Grip only looked at him while speaking, as if he was the only one worthy of talking to. "The men waiting for you aren't like me-nu," from this, 3-E learned that the remaining hitmen would carry some type of weapons. "Your taunting, Young Warrior, won't work, because their pride isn't where mine is," this sentence felt cryptical.

"It would be unfair for you to go without the slightest hint-nu. But it would go against ethics to tell you everything too-nu," feeling like the most important piece of information was coming, the whole class and two professors focused on Grip's every word.

"Your masters may or not know them, Young Warrior," and 3-E's eyes flicked to look at Karasuma-sensei and Koro-sensei. "The men waiting for you on the higher floors are named Gastro and Shadow-nu," at their mention, both Karasuma and Koro fell into a contemplative mood, searching for information on the two assassins.

"Truthfully-nu, I am not familiar with them. But I know enough to tell you that with your current tactics," his eyes remained on Karma, "and weapons," they flicked to the students' belts. The only thing they had was Smog's poison, he doubted they had anymore, and from Karma's course of actions, they had no guns or knife too. "You won't be their match."

His words sent a chill down the class' spine. Grip's eyes were deep and serious, he wasn't joking with them. He was warning them. Advising them to review their work methods and urging them to find some weapons and quick.

Karma stared at him unblinkingly. "Oh?" he vocalized, breaking the tension. "Is that so?" he asked, seemingly unimpressed. Grip looked at him for some seconds before laughing.

"As expected of you, Young Warrior-nu!" the blond praised before shaking his head. "Now, be on your way, Young Warrior, you lost enough time," he urged him.

Karma didn't need to be told twice. He stood up, dusted himself, and walked off with the rest of the class. Leaving a tied up Grip behind to lay on the ground. Of course, they wouldn't untie him. They wouldn't take the risk of the blond retaliating.

"Grip and Shadow, uhm," Nagisa echoed after they put some distance between their group and Grip. "What do you think Koro-sensei?" he asked, bending his neck to look down at the plastic bag in his hands.

"Nyurufufu, what do you think?" Koro-sensei asked back.

Kayano was the one to answer. "Well, Gastro, doesn't it sound like he has gastric problems?" she asked. "It could be something like food poisoning," she reasoned. "I mean, Smog specialized in poison, and he used them as sprays. While Grip used his grip?" she tried, sounding unsure.

Kataoka Meg, the female class representative, nodded, seemingly convinced by her words. "What you say makes sense," she approved. "Then, Shadow should specialize in silent assassinations— probably ones where you never see the perpetrator's face."

"Oh, oh! Let me try!" Fuwa Yuzuki, the group's self-proclaimed detective as well as the one who identified Smog, enthusiastically called out while she raised her hand. She brought a hand to her chin, adopting a thinking pause.' "Let me see. Maybe, instead of food poisoning, Gastro refers to your guts!" she pointed out. "As in, his first target would be your guts, break your spirit? Crush them? Explosion?" she listed with visible enthusiasm.

Koro-sensei seemed satisfied by her analysis. "It seems more plausible. Food poisoning would have been effective while we were at the resort. But now, we wouldn't eat anything without caution," he explained. "I also think that the one targeting us wouldn't hire two similar hitmen but instead go for different profiles," he exposed his point of view.

Fuwa eagerly nodded. "Right? That's what I thought too!" she chirped. "As for Shadow, I think Kataoka's description seems sound. Maybe he's the bodyguard? Staying in the shadow and waiting to strike whoever attacks his client?" she proposed.

Koro-sensei's smile never left his face— or was it his body now? "To be honest. I doubt Shadow is his real name—" the class looked at him as if he stated the obvious. Who, in their right mind, would name their child Shadow? Seeing his students' disbelieving looks, Koro-sensei felt a mix of anger and embarrassment. He changed color, showing his feeling as he continued. "What I mean, is, no one would use the code name Shadow as a stand-alone.

Yada Toka, probably Irina's most diligent student, was the one to answer. "Really? Why? Doesn't Shadow sound cool and efficient?" she asked as she played with a pin she borrowed from their blond teacher.

Koro's face changed color. It went back to its usual yellow, and green stripes appeared. "Fufufu, that is where you are wrong, my dear student," he taught. "Most codenames aren't chosen but given. I would say Shadow is a diminutive. Otherwise, the number of Shadow would be uncountable."

What he said made sense, the students nodded.

Koro-sensei observed them with some pride before he gazed at the silent Karasuma. "What do you think, Karasuma-sensei?"

Karasuma frowned, throughout their talk, he too mused over the two assassins' identity. After some time, he opened his mouth, his voice was laced with some doubt as if unsure of his claims.

"If my memory serves me right, there are a few assassins dubbed Shadow-something within the organization Irina originated from," he told them. "But I don't know if it's one of them."

Karma's eyes widened, he whistled. "Whoah, Bitch-sensei's colleague?"

From left to right: Kaori Seki; Hikari Seki