The conference room was vast, there wasn't a sound, only the calm breathing of the A-class permeated the room. The sunrays threaded through the window glasses, drenching the classroom in natural lighting— there was no need to turn the artificial lighting on.

The whole A-class was on standby, waiting with a serious face at their desk, they didn't utter a word, didn't move an inch— the atmosphere was stern and heavy, full of discipline and order. If not for the uniforms, which pointed out that they were students, some may have thought it was the army.

The door slid open, and as if hearing their maestro's words, the whole class stood up to welcome the batch of newcomers. The first one to set foot in the quiet classroom was a tall strawberry blond head, with a pair of eye-catching violet eyes, he led a group of five boys inside. These people, who the students awaited in a religious silence, were the top of the school.

They topped Kunugigaoka in every way of the term. Be it Academics, Fame, Background, whatever it was, this group of students stood at the top. They were the benchmark of success, envied and admired by many— if Kunugigaoka was a jungle, they were the Kings of the jungle.

The one leading the group, Asano Gakushu, made his way to the middle of the class with confident strides, leaving the group of five to follow behind. He spread his arms, his aura going from imposing to immensely charismatic, and with one twitch of his finger, made the whole student body sit. He was the Maestro, and A-class was his orchestra.

Gakushu's lips remained a flat line, only curving slightly into a ghost of a smile as his purple eyes carefully narrowed. With these simple changes in expression, he managed to gather the full attention of his audience. He was gifted, charismatic, a natural-born leader.

There was no need for him to raise his voice, he didn't need to stand on a stage to overlook the students to make his presence known. He casually stood in front of them, and with practiced ease: he spoke.

"We are the Sun."

One simple line, metaphor— yet it brought a shiver down every A-class' students' spine.

"In our prestigious Kunugigaoka Junior High, we shine down upon everyone from above."

His sentence was simple and concise. It made A-class' blood boil.

"As I have heard, apparently the entirety of Class E sought to place within the top 50 spots of the Midterm exams," his voice was clear and devoid of any impurities as he enunciated the facts. "If by chance, that was to happen, a dark cloud would hang over everyone's head."

The pair of eyes swept the students' faces, leaving them hanging for a second— as if to make sure his words were embedded in their minds before he resumed.

"It is unacceptable for such a thing to come between the Sun above and the Earth below," his voice grew sharp, and although no one noticed the slight tremor of his pointer finger, Mitsukuni couldn't help but narrow his eyes. "We will monopolize the top 40 spots and won't allow them to take any of those places!"

"Come. Let us protect this school's Light— together!"

The entirety of A-class stood up, like a fanatical audience they clapped and cheered, feeling invigorated by the strawberry blond's words. Right, of course, they were the Sun. How could they allow ants to claim their spots?

Mitsukuni's eyes narrowed, his honey-brown irises glinted with a strange light, and he brought Sweets closer to his chest. He balanced his weight from one foot to the other, humming contentedly before he peeled his eyes off his childhood friend to look at the window and the hill behind it.

He thought about E-class, about their possible link to the army, the fact that Gakushu found out his father hid something about the End Class, and at once his interest for the class grew. He brought his gaze back to his classmates, licked his upper lip, and drew a perfect childish smile on his face. With light steps, he waltzed to the closest student and neatly tilted his head to the side.

"Ne, ne, Hanako-chan, need any help?" he cutely chirped.

Mmm, maybe he should take this opportunity to dig into E-class while they were preoccupied with the midterms. As for his studies— his eyes flashed before he hummed. Scoring lower than usual once or twice wouldn't impact his overall results much.

::

Strolling down the practically deserted corridors of the main building, Mitsukuni carelessly swept his eyes over the remaining students. The top floor of Kunugigaoka was where most of the administrative rooms were located, the chairman office and student council room were no exception. The floor was relatively calmer than the lower ones, and it allowed the administrative side of the staff to work without disruption.

Mitsukuni's goal was the Student Council room— precisely, the one and only Asano Gakushu. He was looking for the strawberry blond head to go home. Both had agreed to meet up by the gate at the end of the day to walk back together but after fifteen minutes of waiting, there was no sign of the Student Council President. Mitsukuni supposed that he went to finish some work for the council.

Finding out that the door was locked, Mitsukuni frowned. If not the Student Council room, then where? He hummed to himself, his usual childishly ignorant face discarded as he boredly looked down the empty corridors. When he found himself alone, Mitsukuni sometimes reverted to the lackadaisical personality of his past life.

Duller, more mature, less talkative— more intimidating.

It was only when he acted this way that one could glimpse at the former Haninozuka head that he was. His grip on Reiko loosened, leaving her to barely hang in his embrace as his honey-brown eyes flashed with thoughts.

Maybe, "The headmaster's office?" he mused in a whisper, his eyes sliding to look down the corridor. He pulled his phone out of his school bag, opening the messaging app to send Gakushu a text. He found that the blond had yet to contact him, and as his feet led him closer to the office, he opened Ren's text. An invitation to the library for a study session with the other virtuosos.

He hesitated. He didn't like them all that much, but he didn't want to come off as reclusive. What's more, Ren was one of his friends and closest classmates, he didn't want to turn him down without solid reasons.

From outside the headmaster's office, he heard muffled voices and paused. Gakushu probably was the one inside and conversing with the headmaster. He brought his attention back to his phone.

He closed his eyes, spinning on his feet to walk back and to the nearest staircases as he readjusted his grip on Reiko. When he opened his eyes again, the dullness was gone and his usual carefree smile was back. He hummed, sent Ren a text to tell him to keep him a seat, and wrote Gakushu a message to notify him of his whereabouts.

For some reason, Mitsukuni quickened his pace down the stairs. He felt like something interesting was about to happen, and he didn't want to miss it. There was a voice in his head telling him that his suspicious feeling would be confirmed if he went.

He couldn't help the excitation that bubbled in his heart.

Although he had no plan to seriously study for the upcoming midterms, he was strangely eager to reach the library.

.

.

.

"—Really? The Virtuosos—"

"3-E?—"

"—The library?"

Mitsukuni absentmindedly listened to the chatter of the students as he made his way closer to the library. His bag slung over his shoulder and Reiko snuggled in his arms, he skipped to his destination, unconsciously quickening his pace when he heard someone mention the infamous class 3-E.

::

He leaned against the shabby wooden walls that made up his school building, most of his weight rested on it, one foot firmly set on the ground while the other was propped on the wall. Fiery red lashes shaded his pair of mercury-colored eyes as he lazily read through some news on his phone, his fingers swept across the tactical screen in turn.

the sun hung high in the sky, and where class 3-E's prefab stood, the chirping of birds easily rang in the student's ears. There was a light breeze, the weather was perfect for an outing and for lazing around, and if not for the fact that a teacher had called him out, Karma would have long gone home.

He blinked, set his right foot on the ground and propped his left one on the wall. His eyes momentarily flicked to the ground, checking on his school bag before they slid back to his phone screen. He hummed to himself, lifted his gaze to sweep the almost deserted hill and carded a hand through his short red hair. His eyes darted around, searching for a figure before he sighed.

He glanced at the right corner of his phone, checking the time, and counted the minutes since the end of the class. About ten, he roughly guessed before settling on eight minutes. He'd wait for a few more, out of politeness before packing up and going down the hill.

"Karma?"

The teen easily peeled his gaze off his lit screen to meet a pair of probing clear blue eyes.

"How come you haven't gone yet, are you waiting for someone?" Irina asked as she noticed the bag by the boy's feet. She knew classes had ended long ago, and most of the students had already gone home to study for the upcoming placement exam. After all, the prospect of shooting one of their homeroom teacher's tentacle was too enticing to miss.

Karma gave the blond a sly grin, his eyes crinkled and he raised a contemplative eyebrow. "Oh?" he vocalized. "Are you worried about me, Bitch-sensei?"

Irina's brow twitched, her smile turned stiffer, and she didn't bother to hide her irritation. It wasn't that she didn't have the skills to, simply, it wasn't necessary to trick the redhead who knew he was getting on her nerves. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and twirled one of her blond locks around her fingers in boredom. "Whatever."

Karma watched her with a grin as she literally twirled on her heels before walking away. He looked at her for a second, admiring the way her body moved— analyzing the way she unconsciously used her figure to bewitch others, his eyes gleamed.

"Wait, Bitch-sensei," he called out, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder before he jogged up to the blond curvy woman.

Irina didn't stop, merely slowing her pace to allow the redhead to catch up before she spared him a glance, a light inquisitive hum slipping past her pink colored lips. "Yes?"

Karma looked back, checking his surroundings before he refocused on the blond woman. "Do you know if Shimamori-sensei has a lot of things to finish?" he squarely asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

The Honey Pot agent narrowed her beautiful eyes, her lashes trembled and her already slow pace almost came to a halt. "Shimamori?" she echoed, and Karma, if he had been more careful, would have felt mild the rejection in her voice. "He should be in the faculty room," she provided before zeroing her attention on the redhead. She paused as if to gauge the situation. "Did he ask for you?"

Karma carelessly nodded. "'Been waiting for fifteen minutes already," he complained with a shrug of his shoulders, not really caring for the fact that he was talking to one of his teachers. If outsiders listened to them, they would think both were friends or family instead of teachers and students.

Irina paused, she was about to add something when she caught sight of the said raven head walking up to them. With his long legs and large strides, it didn't take long for agent Shimamori to walk up to them. His piercing blue eyes settled on her figure in acknowledgment as he nodded before he turned to look at the red-haired student next to her.

She did know if it was his height, his air, or the fact that it was him, but Irina didn't like the feeling she got when he laid eyes on her. It crawled under her skin, she hated it— despised it to the core. It was like trying to read a book when the said book couldn't be understood by its owner. Easily masking her sentiment with an amiable smile, she returned the older's greeting.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow Karma," she bade. "Shimamori," a with a slight nod of her head, she was gone.

Karma's eyes flitted to look at her back before he looked up at the taller teacher. The raven hadn't changed since he last saw him, no expression on his face, a cold air oozing from his body, and an intimidating light glinting in his eyes. If not for the fact that Karma met Karasuma before, Shimamori would have been what he thought of when someone spoke of "special agent."

"So," he drawled, stepping back and balancing his weight from one foot to the other as he put some distance between them. "What can I help you with, Shimamori-sensei?" he grinned, his hand loosely holding his bag.

Shimamori didn't speak, his eyes flicked to the bag in Karma's hand for a second. His gaze lingered on the peculiar doll that peeked through the crack of its zipper, he didn't think the male was the type to carry dolls or toys around before he slid his gaze off to meet a pair of mercury-colored irises. "Yes," he acknowledged, his voice smooth a low. "Do you have your knife? Follow me to the training grounds."

Karma raised an eyebrow, he followed the raven in silence, and only when they reached the grounds did he open his mouth to say, "I left it home, I don't have my knife, only the gun."

Shimamori seemed unbothered by his words, merely sparing him a glance. His hands that searched through a duffle bag, on the other hand, paused before rummaging further. He pulled out a plethora of combat knives, casually running his fingers along the blade to test its sharpness before nodding.

A shiver ran down Karma's spine, his eyes narrowed. Those weren't fake goods. They were tools that could kill— make you bleed and take a human life. When he saw the raven head throw the knife at him, instead of catching it, he dodged and watched it fall to the ground. His fingers uneasily wrapped around the handle, from the feel of the leather, he could tell it wasn't a new blade but a used one. He wondered if the way he felt was similar to Nagisa's feelings when Karasuma gave him Takaoka's knife.

Shimamori observed the redhead mutely, he twisted his wrist, silently jungled with the blade to test its weight, and focused back on the teen. "Don't worry, those should be blunt enough, I haven't honed them in a while."

"Oh," the raven's words did little to comfort the teen.

Shimamori caught the hesitation in the redhead's eyes, he minutely frowned. "Didn't you say that you wanted to hone your knife skills?" he rhetorically asked. "I'll help you."

Karma blankly starred. He hadn't expected the male to hear his careless comment and remember it, much less take the time to help him out. The expression stagnated on his face for a few seconds before his lips quirked up into a sly grin.

"Yeah, I'll be in your care, Sensei."