.
.
Squishy yellow octopus with the funny face and huge smile, the form he takes is a deliberate one: tall enough and broad enough to wear her ridiculous tie convincingly; alien but not too scary.
His first class is a startling success. The bell rings and he weaves and bobs through various assassination attempts, his prodigious assassin's mind able to distill the characters of each and every one of his students perfectly - the shy perfectionist. The insecure loner. When he was human he could zero in on his target's weakness, use them as a means to deceive, lull them into a sense of false security. He uses those powers of observation for entirely different reasons, now.
The day ends, and at night he sits perched on the peak of their very shitty mountain, looking out into the moon-drenched valley of the town below him. There are no students here, and so he lets his tentacles recede until his true form shows itself. His body shrinks. The round kabuki mask of a smiling face slowly involutes into something decidedly more human.
She would probably call him handsome if she saw him, then; then again, Aguri's taste was often highly questionable.
xXx
.
Would he still be teaching if she were alive? He looks out into the darkness and considers. Probably.
This is how he'd imagine it would be like. Things would not be much different than they are now, swooping in and out of the satellite classroom like a cartoon jellyfish. He thoroughly enjoys his students and gets to know each and every one of them. This he's fairly sure would not change.
What would change, though, would be at the end of the day, he'd have someplace to go home to. He'd zoom across the earth at Mach 20 speeds, coming back with whatever Chinese or American take-out that suits her fancy. Maybe he'd call to ask her first what she wanted for dinner, or else grab her something improbably fast and highly inappropriate - snow cones made from actual arctic snow would probably make her laugh, as would whole coconuts from Hawaii. Snow cones and coconuts don't make a proper meal, she'd chide him, and he'd hug her from behind and tell her, Of course, my darling! For all the cuisine in all the world, your cooking is still the best!
But he will never taste her cooking. He shoots over the ocean to grab a Texas hamburger, zips across the continent for Venezuelan. Sometimes he'd think of what it'd be like to share a meal with her, and his grief would overwhelm him.
Shinigami-san, she'd say, if she were still with him. Are you sad?
In the dark of his bedroom, he imagines her lying beside him.
I'm not sad, he'd tell her, and she'd reach out to touch him. Their faces would be close. Her thumb would fan the span of his cheek.
Good, she'd say, and she would hitch him closer. I'm glad.
And they would settle into a comfortable silence, a nice way to end their day.
xXx
.
"Idiot!" the researcher said. He backhanded Aguri across the face.
From behind the glass, he watched as Aguri spun a little with the force of the strike, pitching sideways before landing hard against her side. The researcher stood over her and spat on her face.
"Pathetic," the researcher said. "Remember there's a reason why no other man would touch you."
The researcher tapped his keycard against the reader. Quietly Aguri hunched into herself as the sliding doors of the holding area coolly opened. Heavy footsteps echoed as the researcher left.
It did not take a seasoned assassin to know what expression he should make. A kind expression, a sad sort of smile showing a knowing empathy.
"Shinigami-san, please don't make that face." Aguri stood shakily, leaning against the table. "I told you already: you don't have to pretend to smile for me."
"How do you know it's pretend?" his voice, like his face, was perfectly modulated. A soft, gentle lilt. Like coaxing a frightened animal from a bush.
"I can see it in your eyes," Aguri said, and she turned to face him. A fresh bruise was already starting to bloom around her cheek. "I can tell you're angry."
"Why are you marrying him?" he asked.
"I told you already, Shinigami-san. No other man would want me."
And when she smiled at him, it was a real smile. But the smile she had was sad.
xXx
.
Her powers of observation always surprised him; he never let her peek under his mask. No matter how much he suffered, no matter how his body screamed or how the pain seared through him with each fresh wound, he always kept his smile.
It unnerved the other researchers. Of course the feared God of Death felt no pain.
Standing with her clipboard pressed against her chest, Aguri's fingers would tighten as if she were the one on the table, not him.
"Why do you pretend?" she asked him, kneeling in front of the glass and setting down her clipboard. "They were increasing their experiments to make you feel more pain."
His smile toward her was inscrutable.
Now, standing in the middle of an empty classroom, he thinks of the only time he let her see behind his mask: when she was lying in his arms, battered and bleeding, his grief and horror showing perfectly on his face.
Shinigami-san.
Yes, my darling?
That wasn't the only time you let me peek behind your mask.
She would step up behind him in that empty classroom, one small hand resting on the small of his back.
I could see the horror on your face when I gave you that tie!
That was because I was afraid you'd make me wear it, he'd say, and she'd press her body against him.
That was also the first time I saw you smile.
That wasn't true, was it? A glint of light reflected from the dome of Korosensei's yellow head. But he thinks back and realizes, yes, it is. That was the only time he gave her a real smile.
xXx
.
"Did you know," Aguri said, and she swiveled a little in her chair. "Did you know, Shinigami-san, that the octopus can change its colors based on its emotions?"
He doesn't remember why they were talking about this. Probably because the tentacles were starting to manifest. Or maybe because she was eating a bento box of sushi and she had tried to sneak him in a piece. What he does remember, though, was that she was wearing a neon green T-shirt with a dancing apple on the front, and that, with his heightened sense of smell, he could smell the new brand of shampoo she used from the air holes in the glass.
"It changes colors to blend into the background, and it turns red when it's angry or when it wants to hide its fear."
"Camouflage or behavioral signalling," he said, and Aguri looked up. He smiled. "Of course Yukimura-san, I already know."
"You already know...?" she tilted her head, quizzically.
"You were about to say I'm like an octopus," he said.
"Because of your tentacles?" she asked.
"No," he said, smiling. "Because of my 'camouflage.' Because of my masks."
"Your smile never changes despite your emotions," Aguri said. "It would be wonderful if you turned pink when you were happy or blue when you were sad."
"What color would I be right now, Yukimura-san?"
Aguri considered.
"Yellow with green stripes!" she said, happily.
A sweatdrop. "Huh?"
"Yellow with green stripes. Because you're cool and confident!" she said. From behind the glass, he shook his head.
"Your taste is terrible as always," he said, smiling.
xXx
.
They would make love in the dark of his bedroom, breathing softly.
What color would I be now, my darling?
Pink, she'd say, giggling. Pink with a blush on your cheeks.
Oh? He'd push up inside her and her mouth would pop open with a pleasured gasp.
I thought pink was just for when I was happy.
You are happy, she'd say, and she'd grin as she kissed him, deeply and affectionately.
In real life, his students stare at him from behind their desks.
"EH?!" they say. "Korosensei changed colors again!"
"First he was happy and pink but now he's green and checkered!"
"Nagisa," they whisper. "What's it mean when he's covered in rainbow spots?"
xXx
.
Yukimura-san, he'd ask. Do you think we'd be together if you escaped with me?
Of course we would! What kind of question is that?
A silly kind of question, I suppose.
He sits on the rooftop of the school and watches the crescent moon. Below him, the tops of trees shift with the nighttime breeze. Usually, he's carousing with his students, and he lets himself get swallowed whole by that goofy Korosensei persona. For a moment, he lets himself forget. Sensei is a happy octopus who changes colors to show his emotions, who can whiz back and forth across the globe at impossible speeds. Sensei always has fun and he's always smiling. And Sensei teaches them well and cares about them, too.
Are you lonely? she'd ask, and she'd sit next to him, and momentarily he would let that great facade drop. Once again, that plush yellow mass would recede into itself. She'd lean close to him and take his hand, and they wouldn't say anything for awhile, because he's comfortable being around her without his masks.
I wish I got to know you more.
I know. But in that year we learned a lifetime's worth.
She'd lean against his arm. Quietly he would tuck her against his chest and rest his chin against the top of her head. It would be a comforting weight, how the two of them would sit on the rooftop together alone.
xXx
.
This is what would happen, if Yukimura Aguri survived.
0.1 seconds. That's all it would take for him to notice. 0.1 seconds and he'd whirl around with unimaginable speed, blocking that weapon that was poised to spear through her chest. She'd stumble into his arms as he catches her, shocked and ripped away from his destructive rage.
"Y-Yukimura-san..."
"Please don't," she'd say. Her arms would wrap around him, tight. "Please don't. We can leave together. We can escape."
And maybe she would look at him and he would see a tear slip. That stupid necktie in her pocket. The earnest way she always spoke to him.
They would leave. He would wrap her up in his tentacled arms and rocket upwards, vaulting through the open ceiling of the research facility, and everything else would be pretty much the same.
A few hours later, Korosensei would slither up in front of the crowd of terrified leaders, his dome-shaped head smiling wide and proclaiming his dream of becoming a teacher. And in the background, Yukimura Aguri would stifle a laugh, because he turned into a crazy octopus as a way of teasing her. A goofy form to match her goofy wardrobe. The thought of it would make him smile.