Assassination Classroom Maehara Novels & Stories

“I did the right thing by giving you the villa, Mr. Lee.” Reiko grinned and held the cup up. She smiled and said to Kaze, “Here’s a toast to you.” “Let’s drop the formalities, Ms. Hara.” Kaze took a sip and said indifferently, “You sent the assassin after me today, Ms. Hara.” Reiko put down the cup with a smile and replied, “That’s right. The person I sent after you was a well-known assassin in Ryokan ten years ago. “But he died before laying a finger on you, Mr. Lee.

"A terrible sadness has gripped our people for as long as I have been Keeper. I found it lurking in the shadowy corners of my office when I was elevated. I now imagine it haunted my predecessors for some time as well. At least I will pass on knowing the name of our assassin." "The assassin is right here," Fatima spewed her hate at me. "You are correct," Krasimira chuckled. "The assassin is indeed in this room. Its name is A****n. I need a moment, please." She stood and walked to the doors. What she wanted didn't take long at all. "Gun," we heard her request. The magazine fell to the ground. The sole bullet did not follow. Krasimira walked tenderly into the office as if every step tore like f

Kasen's gaze darted to the shadows behind her chair. Two waiters, dressed in matching black tuxedos, stood still. But they weren't holding trays of food. With slow, synchronized movements, both men slid their right hands inside their suit jackets. They pulled out the dark, 3D-printed carbon-fiber firearms. Kasen watched in paralyzing horror through the metal grate as both assassins raised the weapons, aiming them at Maeva's spine.

“Let’s go over the kitchen detail one more time before I have to head back to the upper tiers...” “And what exactly are you teaching him?” The sharp, high-society voice exploded through the small concrete room like a physical explosion. The heavy metal door lock, the one we had verified as secure, the one that should have required a tier-one administrative keycard had been completely thrown back without a single sound from the pneumatic seal. Maeve stood in the open doorway, smug in all her glory, her expensive diamond bracelets catching the harsh glare of the bare fluorescent bulb overhead. Her long silk dress swept against the damp floorboards of the corridor, looking entirely ridiculous a

“Show me everything. Nothing can be withheld.” The officer assigned to security handed me the keys, and the monitor flickered to life. The hallway appeared, captured in sharp detail. Immediately, I saw the twins entering the frame. Their hands were empty, their movements calm and natural. Inside the classroom, they took only silver-wrapped tissues, nothing more. From the corner of the frame, a teacher lingered near the door, scanning the hallway like she had an ulterior motive. Her presence was strange there, and shatever intent she had was not pure in any way. I studied her carefully as the footage played.

Then Mara nodded, and let it go, and said something about the tattoo ink she'd need, and the conversation moved on the way conversations do. Liora was still thinking about last night forty minutes later, in the middle of Professor Hale's lecture on institutional governance, when the door to the classroom opened and a student assistant leaned in and said — quietly, but not quietly enough — "Liora Vasell?" Twenty heads turned. Mara turned too, slow, with the expression of someone watching a car inch toward a speed bump. Her eyebrows rose.What is happening? Liora mouthed l don't know back at her, gathered her things, and followed the assistant into the corridor.

There was a look of resignation in her eyes, almost like she had already decided exactly what to do. "I should kill you." She hissed, slowly raising up her pistol again. "...but you're already doomed with someone like Mr. Del Ponte." A dark chuckle escaped her lips, as I watched her slowly aim the gun to her own head. "Have a nice life!" She spat, before pulling the trigger and blowing her own brains out. I watched her body drop to the floor, blood splattered across the room, and some on my face. Mae was dead. The door was finally ripped open, and in came Marcelo and the others, but my eyes were not focused on them.

I don't know how to turn the love I feel into a weapon against him. The whispers, however painful, couldn't prepare me for what I walk into. The panel conference room is a silent, suffocating space. Three people sit waiting, and the chairperson is Christine George. My stomach churns, a cold knot of dread forming as I meet her gaze. The animosity in her eyes is palpable.

I looked at her, then at her sobbing friend under the target, then at the third one, who was staring at the floor like she wished it would swallow her. I took a long, final pull on my cigar and crushed the ember in a crystal ashtray. "You should’ve led with that," I said, my voice dropping back into that dead, calm space. "Now, because you wasted my time, we’re going to have a very, very long night." I looked at Sergei. "Get them to the green room. And bring me the security head. I want every frame of footage from that fucking room and anyone who was around it when the incident happened."

“Marcel, I hate you! I should have left you to die that day. I hate you Marcel, I hate you but I can’t live without you” She has gone crazy! “Bye,” I mouthed, waving at her. As Mae was taken away her screams echoed down the hallway. I steeled myself, reaffirming that this was the only way to kill her. The white room would isolate her, break her in different ways before it sucks the life out of her. “Rest in Pieces, Mae.” ************