Snoop_snoots Assclass request, combined with 's no name to speak of's: Maybe with assassination classroom and Basil needs to deliver some papers to karma. By accident he leaves a what would normally be a fatal wound on Koro-sensei, but his binder is not the right material so Koro-sensei doesn't die...

Wonderful. I had more work to do. Bel had been cordially invited by an acquaintance of an acquaintance to a school rave. Given certain suspicions, I was going as his date to investigate the venue. I felt a change in the amount of Mist Flames steadily drained away by my Ring as I tried to pick a few outfits for our trip.

The event would be semi-formal, and while Bel would naturally not be put upon to dress in any way other than what he wanted, I was slightly more compromising. So. Clothing. A pastel blouse and darker skirt over knee-length pants would do nicely. Maybe with a ludicrously expensive jacket. I had far too many of those. A set for the seedier areas, a formal kimono if I needed to play up the anachronism. Sleepwear.

Alright. The nice thing about being employed by the Vongola was that you never had to worry about money. On the other hand, even the Vongola wouldn't be so ostentatious as to ferry two people on a private jet when they could fly economy like everyone else, so, suitcases packed and Mist Flames concealing Bel's excessive weaponry, we suffered through airplane food and wailing children. My prince fell asleep on my shoulder, and I took the time to catch up my endless load of paperwork. Honestly, one would think that things should settle down after Sawada-dono's inheritance, but no, CEDEF had kept teetering on the brink of crisis-mode, reports of Families acting up had kept pouring in, and Interpol had been sniffing around the edges. And then the Moon Incident had happened, and Sir's Heroic Rival arranged a meeting asking us if we were in any way responsible for the destruction of the moon, which led to the Underworld panicking and me worrying about the release of another eldritch goddess, which contributed to my current situation. My binder nudged me supportively. I petted its lovely fabric covers while tearing open the package of peanuts with my teeth.

I woke Bel up when we landed, then filled in our customs paperwork. He bought us both canned tea at a vending machine. We deposited our luggage at the hotel, and then had dinner at a sushi shop. It had excellent nigiri.

The next day, we went to the party, which we had been invited to with the intent of Bel being used as a marketing tool, which involved a degree of daring I could admire.

"Prince Belphegor!" A redheaded boy greeted, "I am glad you came! And who is your lovely companion?"

"Ba'el." I introduced myself, "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He gallantly took my hand and kissed it, "The pleasure is mine, Bael-chan. I am Asano Gakushu."

Rising from his bow, he continued, addressing both of us, "As my guests, you have an all-purposes pass for your stay, so simply display these wristbands," and he held up two strips of the aforementioned paper, "and we will endeavor to meet your every desire. The grounds revolve, but you need only follow the crowd-or enjoy the rest of our campus, if you wish for a reprieve from the excitement of the rave-no need to buy new tickets! Please, put them on and allow me to give you a tour!"

"What sayst thou, my prince, that we will soon be subjected to a parade of selfies?" I asked through Mist.

"Inevitable." Bel laughed, mind-to-mind, "The Prince shall allow these peasants to gaze upon his Princely Countenance, even through such toothless mediums as screens!"

"And they shall not see more than our hair and mere fragments of our faces." I thought back drily.

"Exactly!"

"These are our snack stations," Asano-san said with a flourish, "Please, help yourselves! Shall we take a few photos?"

Bel laughed, "Shishishishi!"

I chose two of the most tempting morsels, handed one to my prince, and then let him draw me into a lanky embrace. We raised the hors d'oeuvres in toast as Asano's phone clicked, Bel's brilliant grin and my echoing smile soon making its way onto the dashboards and the like of overly invested fangirls (and non-girls, but the majority are of female persuasion and possessed of terrifyingly vivid imaginations).

We made a circuit of the room, Asano-san taking even more pictures (with our phones as well) and posting them on social media, including far too many with band members, many of whom equally excited to meet a real live prince.

Advertisement purposes fulfilled, we were released to wander in the wild. Given that I had taken care to leave the conversation to my prince, I would have left next to no impression, which suited my purposes just fine.

Pressing twin Rain-laced sound-dampening kisses to Bel's ears in apology, I escaped the lights and the noise to head up to the mountain, where the mysterious 3-E was housed. My set square boomerang was at my hip, my binder clutched to my chest, and the two combined were sufficient for anything short of a Varia Officer. As a precaution, I fed Matatabi to both, stopping just before the point at which Flame became visible.

There were traps in the mountain. Well-made ones at that-ones I would not have been ashamed of seeing from a Chunin's hand. I avoided them carefully.

There was noise up ahead. Mouthwatering food smells that reminded me all too much of that one time the Yellow Flash had invited my brother to Konoha and we lunched at Teuchi's. Laughter, and the contented buzz of satisfied diners. Two students passed me by, laden with produce gathered from the woods, and I followed them into the clearing where the schoolhouse stood. They headed to the back, but I lingered among the rows of wooden tables where scarred men sat, killers all, seeking faces I recognized-Redeye, who had competed with me at distance, though he knew not my face, Grip, who, like me when I was Bajiru, was fond of emulating the samurai.

"eee? Hello! Who's this young lady? Come on, please-" I shrieked as a civilian should, only half faking it, given the speed at which I had been approached, spinning to face the source of the noise and letting the momentum take my binder from my hands, loose leaves of Rain-edged paper making a wall between me and my assailant in a death of a thousand cuts.

The shriek that came from the other side of my Konan-inspired defense made mine pale in comparison, and I hastily began gathering the fallen papers together while apologizing profusely.

As the sheets fluttered down, sound followed them until silence no less than if I had spread my Kyoukau pressed upon my eardrums. I looked up. Great pieces had been shorn from their clothes, revealing gaping wounds, which were…yellow. And not bleeding.

I gasped in a panic, "Are you alright? I sincerely apologize, I should not have let go of my binder, this is all my fault! Please, does it hurt?"

To his credit, the yellow not-human person recovered admirably quickly, ruffling my hair and saying, "Quite alright, young lady!" He fussed, "The fault is mine, I gave you a terrible shock!"

"But…" I made tears well up, "Your papercuts! I am so sorry, I knew the paper was a terrible choice, you must let me at least-" I made a show of looking around, "-support your business! Please, let me buy a serving of whatever your most expensive item is to make up for this oversight!"

I abandoned the paper and fumbled for my wallet (All of my clothes have pockets. Even skirts), shoving a generous estimate of the named price into their hands with a mumble of "please! Keep the change!"

Then I bent my head and let my hair hide my face in a show of stewing in my bubble of abject misery, while peering through the screen of aquamarine to see how everyone else was now engaged in furious, whispered discussion. They underestimated my hearing, as people always did.

-couldn't have-
-that paper-
-conventional weaponry can't hurt him-
-maybe they've cooked up something new-
-and sent it with the girl-
-she didn't press on-
-but did you see-
-if it was Sauso-
-but it cut through cloth-
-see the wounds-
-new material-
-civilian-
-20 Mach, she caught him by surprise-
-Jelavitch-
-damn, we could have ganked-
-could we pull that off-
-how many months left-

An U.M.A. who had drawn the ire of professional assassins as well as the resources needed to synthesize a particular material. He couldn't be hurt by metal, if the lack of supersonic bullets was any indication. Not that it mattered to me. Tranquilizing the inter-molecular-forces that held substances together meant I could, with proper focus, cut through anything, so long as it was matter. Energy required a different mindset. On the other hand, I couldn't deal enough lasting damage-20 Mach maximum speeds? If I assumed a conservative estimate for the U.M.A.'s mass, then-the momentum-the amounts of Rain needed to keep him contained would be astronomical.

Bel's presence on social media consists of candid photos in which he is far too handsome for the embodiment of sloth and a significant other whose attractiveness includes, but is not limited to, how the camera seems always just out of focus enough that any Bel-crushees can see their traits in the blurred features of this individual, who is only referred to as Page, Mine, and Beloved, changes their hair color on regular, and lacks a confirmed gender, meaning anyone can fantasize about Prince Bel falling in love with me! And it wouldn't even be contradicted by canon: who knows what Prince Bel likes? Of course, there's also the giant amount of non-SI-RPF, plus speculative essays on the couple. Every post is gone over with a fine-toothed comb, every story analyzed to death. WHO IS THE PAGE?

There should be a I'm actually a boy joke somewhere but I couldn't fit it in