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Chapter Text

The Reaper is a title that has belonged to the strongest, most ruthless assassins for generations – over a century. And for as long as the Reaper has existed, so too has the Reaper’s Informants: a network of people who aid and abet the Reaper in his grim duty. Empires rose and fell on the Reaper’s actions, and the Reaper’s actions came from the words of the network in the shadows.

Koro-Sensei, as the former Reaper, knew the huge, interlocking informant chain that made up the underworld well – but one name had always stuck out to him: a name that had been in the registers for well over one hundred years. The alias was as iconic to the underground network as the assassin it served. The alias that taught, the alias that knew.

Persona non grata to millions, the famed one.

He had protected his home from assassinations, abetted in innumerous hits across all of Europe, if not the world. His word had been invaluable to the young Koro-Sensei when he first became the Reaper, gifting him the wisdom, the knowledge and the intelligence needed to truly make the assassination world his oyster.

The only informant whom had kept contact after his mutation by the current Reaper.

***

“It’s been a while.”
“It has indeed, Your Grace,” Koro-Sensei chuckled. The informant groaned.
“You know as well as I do that I am not—”
“And you know as well as I do that I could change that for you.”
“You are a teacher now,” came the blunt response, “and I am all but retired.” Koro-Sensei laughed.

“You? Retired? More like you don’t trust the current Reaper.”
“I trust him as far as I can throw him – and I have no arms.”
“Tell me, are you still fluent in the Japanese I taught you?”
“As fluent as I could get,” sighed the old informant. “Learning the language with what you gave me was not easy.”

Koro-Sensei grinned.
“Then, Your Grace, would you do me the honour of teaching my students?”
“The ones meant to kill you?” asked the informant. “I hardly see how I am meant to help.”
“You taught me.”
“You have tentacles now, I don’t think I did the same job a different teacher could have.” Koro-Sensei rolled his eyes, and swept forward.

***

The students of Class 3E were at least somewhat used to their Sensei’s unusual habits – but this took the cake.

“What… is it?”
“I have a name you know.”
“It talks!”
“Of course I bloody talk, you’re standing behind me!” Nagisa, Karma, Kayano and Sugino timidly walked around the odd new feature slowly until they came to the smokebox.

“Hello there,” the informant said politely in slightly broken Japanese. “Pleasure to meet you students.”
“What… are you?”
“I am a steam engine. A non-faceless one, which I believe are no longer found in Japan.”
“Try the world,” said Karasuma. His brow was so furrowed, his eyebrows were practically touching. He strode over, phone clenched in his hand. “I just got a frantic phone call from one Sir Robert Norramby. Why has Koro-Sensei kidnapped you Duke?”

The wise old engine chuckled, hissing steam out to envelop the students, teacher and himself in a cloud of wispy white.
“I am Duke, and I am the Reaper’s eldest informant. Koro-Sensei has brought me here to teach you youngsters how to shape up and be assassins.”

Nagisa stared at the little old brown engine, mouth agape. The only place in the world that still had ‘non-faceless’ engines was…

“You’re a Sudrian!” exclaimed Fuwa, setting a lightbulb off in Takebayashi’s mind.
“You’re Duke the Lost Engine!”
“Good grief,” groaned Duke, watched the students begin to stare at him in wonderment, rather than bemusement. “Have you said nothing of my arrival to this lot?” Koro-Sensei shrugged, and blasted away, leaving a note behind.

Duke will be taking history and assassination knowledge.

Duke sighed.
“Alright then, it appears I will be looking after you lot. We shall begin with history.”

The students pulled out a couple of big oil drums, a couple planks of wood and their chairs, sitting in front of the old steam engine. A few had out notebooks to jot down the words the engine said, but most of them were content to just stare. Karma fiddled with one of the Anti-Koro-Sensei knives while rocking on his chair. His eyes darted between Duke and Nagisa, lingering on the latter just slightly longer than necessary.
“The first thing to know about history is that everything is interconnected. I have lived through much of modern history, and I have seen how one event can influence another, decades away. For example, the Treaty of Versailles is today seen as a primary source for the start of the Second World War.”
“And you’re going to tell us that assassination has a basis in history too?” laughed Karma. Duke’s eyes flashed dangerously.
“What do you think? The Kennedys, Mahatma Gandhi, Franz Ferdinand, Indira Gandhi, Rabin, Luther King. Learning about the deaths of the greatest statesmen, activists and the men and women who looked to change the world. I’ve even had a part in some of them. So, listen to me, and listen to me well. Everything is interconnected in some way, and looking just a little closer, both in history and in your assassinations, may just change the outcome.”

Duke had given his explanation in a harsh, brutal English that left most of the students confused and a little stunned.
“So…” began Nagisa.
“You speak English?”
“I speak several languages,” Duke huffed. “I’m a steam engine, we are often disregarded as being dumb – but we hear everything, we see everything. We know. Why do you think I was such an effective Informant? Knowledge is power – that is your first Assassination Basics lesson.”

That was only the start of some of the most influential lessons in all of the student’s lives.

Chapter Text

The day began with manual labour. To help Duke get about, the students of Class 3E found that their PE lesson was – instead of fighting or sports – building a railway. It ran around the perimeter of the compound, into the sports shed and down to the pool Korosensei had built them. They built it with a bunch of steel rails Korosensei had ‘liberated’ from somewhere – causing yet more headaches for Karasuma.
“If we had a coach, I could pull you about the place,” murmured Duke.

That gave Karma an idea.

“What if we built Duke a line down to near the main campus? He could pull us up to the class and back!” The other students agreed very quickly – none of them liked the slog up and down the mountain.
“If your Sensei approves, I see no problem in helping,” Duke said. “However – PE time is over. We shall begin Assassination Basics and History.”

Karma was already wandering away.
“Mr Akabane, if you miss my lessons, you will automatically fail. I am not going to let you be based on test results like other teachers.”
“Whatever! As if you’ve got anything interesting to say. We’ve had six lessons with you, and all you do is drone on and on and on! Teachers come and teachers go, but old Duke seems to go on forever!” Duke raised an eyebrow, and a twinkle came into his eye. He smiled pleasantly, like a grandpa would while watching his children play and grow.

“You impertinent scallywag,” he huffed. “Whatever are you young’uns coming too?”  
“Oh Duke, I’m only young – might as well enjoy myself!” cooed Karma, putting on his best ‘innocent’ face. He picked up a rock and flung it at Duke. It sailed through his open cab. Duke raised an unimpressed eyebrow.  

“Well you’d better mind unless you want to end up like Stanley.”
“Oooh, Duke – whatever happened?” asked Nagisa. Karma went suspiciously quiet, sitting beside the blue-haired boy to listen to the old engine.

“Stanley… was an American. He rode roughly and often came off the rails. Worse yet, he was rude – he had no respect. A former ROD engine you see, thought everything he said was right. I tried to warn him, but he took no notice.
‘Listen Dukie,’ he said, ‘in the States we don’t give a dime about a few spills.’
‘We do here,’ I said, but Stanley just laughed. Until one day manager said he was going to make him useful at last. Stanley stopped laughing then.”
“Why? Wh—… what did he do?” asked Kayano.
“He turned him into a pumping engine. He was bricked up behind our shed, and left there for years. I used to use him as an example for the other engines. Then, the mines in the hills closed one… by… one. Stanley was moved to the biggest mine still in operation to be used there drawing water out of the mines. Then, he failed. The mine flooded, and he was drowned under a surge of water. Our line closed.”

“I’m sorry,” Hazama burst in. “But what the actual fuck?! How is that even legal?! He was turned into a stationary pumping engine and then drowned?!”
“That is what I said,” Duke replied bluntly. “Remember, he and I are steam engines. We live in an age when most of our kind have been scrapped.”
“Scrapped?”
“Cut up, melted down in the smouldering hell fires of foundries, torn apart by the scrappers until there was nothing left. Then, then… then turned into something new. I am not the best engine to talk about scrap with – no, not by a long shot. The best living engine would perhaps be Oliver, though Stepney and Flying Scotsman also lived in the scrapyards for a time.”

“Okay – hold up. Are you telling me that all steam engines with faces that aren’t around today were killed?”
“That is correct. Non-facelessness in engines decreased sharply when it happened, as engines as young as five were sent to the sidings. I was lucky enough to miss it when my line was closed, though some were not as lucky. I remember a kindly little engine by the name of Neil, who was cut up at the transfer yards. We watched as he was cut up, smaller and smaller. It’s normal.”
“That’s not normal!!” screamed half the class. Karma tilted his head to the side, considering Duke for a long moment.

“You say you missed being scrapped when your line was closed – what happened to you?”
“People came to buy us engines. They took Stuart and Falcon – the engines I worked with – but no one wanted me. They thought I was too old. But Manager wouldn’t let me be scrapped, so he had me oiled and greased, sheeted snugly, then shut in the shed. I was left alone, and outside the shed, the whole world changed. Winter torrents washed soil down from the hills; trees and bushes grew all around. You wouldn’t have known a shed was there, let alone little old me alone inside it. I spent most of my time in there asleep, actually.”
“You were buried alive?!” Karma exclaimed. His eyes were wide, his usual cool demeanour shattered. 
“Essentially. Of course, I initially wondered what happened to my benefactor – His Grace, the Duke of Sodor.”
“And?!”
“He’d been killed in World War Two, and the new Duke was a boy who’d never heard of me.”

“How are you so nonchalant about all this?!” shouted a new voice. All the students turned to see Karasuma storming across the courtyard. “You literally just traumatised over twenty students with ridiculous tales of—” Karasuma was whooshed in the face with soot and steam, and fell backwards coughing and spluttering.

“Lesson two for assassination basics: listen. Listen to information, listen to people, listen for movement, listen for signs of danger. The click of a silencer or a safety could be the difference between life and death. As for those stories – they are all true. The truth is far more brutal than anything fiction could ever invent.”

Korosensei stepped into Duke’s cab, and the old engine huffed away, puffing down the line.

Karma, Nagisa and Nakamura followed, keeping to the shadows and muffling their steps in the branches.

They found the pair overlooking the little pool Korosensei had made, staring down at the water.
“I know that story is hard for you.”
“Nonsense! It’s past now anyway. I just wish I had been able to do something for Stanley back when he was still alive. We all have our regrets, Ryushi Korogane, don’t we?”

Korosensei turned to stare at Duke in shock.
“You may have only ever told me you were either the Reaper or the God of Death – but I knew. I knew from perhaps our second meeting. Don’t do me a discredit and think I would not find out.”

Korosensei said nothing for a few long moments, then sighed.
“I never could get one over on you,” he chuckled.
“No, you could not. Do you remember, I told you the same story once?”
“You did, only about two years ago.”
“Do you know now why I told you that story?”
“Yes,” Korosensei sighed. “It was a warning, wasn’t it?”

“I was in your position – difference was, I was able to control what happened. I warned you to pay closer attention to your charge. Did you know that the Manager originally wanted to scrap Stanley? Cut him up just like that. Stanley was a war engine after all: cheaply built, cheaply run, cheaply scrapped.”
“I didn’t,” replied Korosensei slowly, the thought of the alternate story almost causing him to shudder. Imagining the Manager saying that to Duke, to Stanley… how familiar really.
“Oh yes,” Duke murmured, the twinkle in his eyes returning. “And Stanley wanted it too, by the end. I argued for it then. The Manager thought someone would come buy him – and they did, only it was the mine. I tried to get him sent to the harbour instead, or put back on the rails… but it was far too late then.”

Nagisa gasped; Korosensei whipped around.
“It would seem some of my students are nearby.”
“You go look for them… try down the ridge – I think they’re trying to flank you.” Korosensei nodded, and zipped away. Duke waited for an achingly long moment before calling out.

“I know you four are there.”

Eyes went wide. Nakamura, Nagisa and Karma stepped out from their hiding place – and Fuwa from hers.

Duke regarded them with a solemn sigh.
“You will not repeat what you have heard. Your Sensei’s past is for him and him alone to reveal to you. Just remember that I did know him back then – and I knew his predecessor, and her predecessor and so on all the way back to 1879. I know what I am talking about – so make sure you listen well. Alright, Akabane?”
“Yes… sir…”
“Please, call me Granpuff. My youngsters do.”

With that, Granpuff looked back out over the valley. Nagisa, Karma and Nakamura left – but Fuwa stayed.

The two sat alone for a long, silent minute – the peace disturbed only by the chirping of bugs.

“When are you going to tell them about Stuart and Falcon?”
“You have read the Railway Series I see,” said Duke. “All in due course, youngster… all in due course. But I will tell you one thing,” Duke looked Fuwa directly in the eyes. In that moment, Fuwa saw a face that had seen more of history – more pain, more suffering, more death, more anguish than any other alive. “I tell you, young Fuwa, to learn about assassination this year – and then, when you graduate - to get as far away from the world of assassinations as physically possible, and to never ever look back.”

Fuwa nodded, and left.

Duke was alone… but not for long.

Chapter Text

The line down the mountain was being built at quite the rapid pace! It roughly followed the path, but also ran through the thick bush, allowing it to curve and loop around. A couple of the handier kids worked on building a little open-sided coach to ride in – and Duke continued to teach history and assassination skills.

However, he began to notice that Terasaka had begun to slack off and not pay attention. He was still there – Duke’s first story had ensured that all the students attended his lesson – but they were having trouble paying attention.

It came to a head one morning, when Duke was trying to teach the students about the Second Sino-Japanese War. It was a controversial topic to start with – Japanese curriculum was careful to negate all wrongdoings by the Imperial Army during the war, in stark contrast to the truth known by the millions who had suffered under the invasion. Furthermore, it was on an unfairly warm day, and while the students were happy to be outside – they were not happy to be stuck near the space-heater of a steam engine.

“This is stupid!” shouted Terasaka, throwing a scrunched-up paper ball at Duke. The old engine sighed as the paper ball landed on his running board.
“Pray tell, what part of the bombing of Shanghai is stupid?” demanded Duke. “This is but a prelude to the true horrors of the war, many of which you would never be taught because of the manner of the current government!”
“The way you’re teaching it! What’s this gotta do with anything? Why do I have to listen to you drone on?”

Duke’s old eyes twinkled, and the other students stopped. They knew that look well enough now. Nagisa spoke up first.
“You have a story for us, don’t you?”
“I do indeed, young Nagisa. This is a story from my old railway about a young engine named Falcon…”

***

Falcon worked with Duke on his old railway, but he still had a lot to learn. He had mastered shunting, and pulling trains along the flatter part of the line from the port to the main sheds. But beyond the main sheds lay the Mountain Road. Only Duke went along that stretch of line.

But the Manager wanted to change that.

“I am pleased with your work so far,” said the Manager. “And now, it is time you learnt the Mountain Road.”
“Yes please, sir!” said Falcon, excited.
“Very good!” grinned the Manager. “So,” he went on, “tomorrow you will double-head a train along it with Duke. He will explain everything.”

Back then, Falcon did not like Duke – he thought him an old fusspot, and quite the ‘fuddy-duddy’. He had also been repainted, and thought the world of himself!

Duke’s train was one for holiday-makers – he brought them from a Steamship at the port all the way into the mountains. Falcon was ready when he arrived. Duke drew alongside.

“Listen, the Mountain Road is difficult. You take the train, and I’ll couple in front.”
“No!” said Falcon. “I’ll lead. How can I learn the route with you lumbering ahead and blocking the view?!”
“Suit yourself,” came the reply. “But one word of advice: never mind the view – look at the track.”

“Look at the track,” he puffed again as they started. “Never mind the view!”
“Fuss-pot, fuss-pot,” huffed Falcon. “Fuddy-duddy… fuddy-duddy… fuddy-duddy…”

The line was steep, crossing over a river, looping on itself, passing through tunnels and over little bridges – climbing all the while. They followed the valley, taking in its breathtaking scenery.

Their speed grew slower and slower.

“Don’t dawdle! Don’t dawdle!” urged Falcon.
“No hurry, no hurry.”

They entered a tunnel. It was short, but curved sharply to the right – meaning light couldn’t shine through it. It was dark and cramped. Falcon didn’t like it.
“I want to get out! I want to get out!”

Presently, the light grew stronger – the tunnel mouth approached.
“Watch the track!” boomed Duke’s voice.
“Fusspot!” scoffed Falcon in reply.

They burst into the light.

Now, the line here swung sharply right. It was laid on a ledge cut into the cliffside. Below lay the sheds and the valley from which they had come. Everything looked tiny – the people like ants in a wooden-block playset.

No one quite knows what happened next.

Falcon suddenly lurched to the side, leaping the rails and crunching along the ballast. He came to a stop with several of his wheels hanging uncomfortably over the ledge…

***

“I’m sorry, what?!” gasped Kanzaki. “He was hanging over the edge?!”
“Yes,” replied Duke. “It was rather uncomfortable. They had to secure him quickly with wooden chokes and chains tied to me. I was holding on for dear life! Falcon began to shake.
‘Young idiot!’ I reprimanded. ‘Stop shaking! I can’t hold you if you shake!’ Looking back, it seems a little rude, seeing as he was inches away from certain death.”
“You don’t say!” exclaimed more than half the class. Even Korosensei – listening in from Duke’s cab – looked a little perturbed.

Duke went on.

***

After they secured the two together, there came another problem.
“Duke needs water!” exclaimed the fireman. “Duke needs water quickly!”

Luckily, there was an old platelayer’s cottage nearby. Soon jugs, buckets, saucepans and even the kettle were being handed back and forth from the cottage’s well to Duke’s tanks. It was hot and tiring work, for Duke needed a lot of water – but all too soon his thirst was quenched, and with a mighty effort he pulled and puffed and panted and heaved!

Falcon inched back onto the rails – and once they had been checked, they set off once more.

***

Duke was about to continue when he noticed Terasaka was absent.
“That damn ruffian!” he groaned, lurching backwards. His eyes scanned the ground, and then he was racing off into the woods surrounding the classroom. Korosensei tumbled out, and Karma smirked.

Terasaka sat on a branch at the very edge of a steep cliff that overlooked all of the city. At the base of the cliff, the main school looked like a toy village, its students bustling about. He huffed, ripping at the twigs growing off the thick branch and hurling them into the abyss.
“Stupid old thing thinks he’s all that,” he sneered. “What does he know?”

He stood, pretending to tight-walk up and down the branch. It groaned under his weight. Terasaka laughed.
“If the branch breaks, I’ll just jump back to the ground. And if that fails, Korosensei can grab me!”

There was a splintering crack, and Terasaka went to jump – only for the branch to give out under him. He slipped, and landed clutching the splintered branch. It was only holding onto the cliff by its roots – and they were being unearthed by his weight.

“Oi! Korosensei! Where are you?!”

The answer to that lay with Karma, who had attempted yet another assassination on the unkillable teacher, and forced him in the other direction.

Terasaka heard the whoosh of steam, and saw a thick column of smoke fill the sky above him.
“Oh right… the rails lead here too,” he groaned as he heard the screech of brakes. A rope fell out over the cliff, stopping next to the big teen.
“Grab on!”
“Why should I?”
“The branch is about to fall! Swallow your damn pride and let me help you!” thundered Duke. Terasaka was about to decline when he felt the branch slip. It jolted downwards, and then the bottom part fell away – termites burst out, and a huge crack appeared where Terasaka’s hand was.

“Grab the rope Terasaka!”

The delinquent grabbed it just as the branch snapped, falling into the abyss. It rolled down onto the baseball pitch during practice – and several students looked up.

All they could see was what looked like a human holding onto a phantom rope.

Duke took a deep breath, and grit his teeth. Steam forced his reverser open, and he slowly began to heave Terasaka up onto firm ground.

It was a delicate task – he couldn’t go too fast in case he injured Terasaka – but the rope was also badly tied, so he had to hurry before it unravelled.

Terasaka clawed his way back onto firm ground, and stared up at Duke.
“Well?”
“Well what, Terasaka?” Terasaka looked around, confusion flashing across his face.
“Where is everyone?”
“Trying to assassinate Korosensei – so I’d say near the pool by now.”
“Then…” Terasaka broke off, scrambling into Duke’s cab. “How’d you move yourself?!”

Duke chuckled. His steam pressure shot up, and his reverser and regulator both shifted. The engine began puffing backwards.
“I use my steam pressure to force controls open and closed. It’s harder to close them – but then again, it’s a difficult thing to learn from the start. Would you shovel some coal for me?”

Terasaka dumbly nodded, and began to shovel coal from Duke’s tender into the firebox.

“I never did finish my story, did I?”
“Er… yeah you did. You saved Falcon, and off you went!”
“Yes, but I didn’t mention what happened up at the top station. You see, the manager was there, and he was very sorry about the incident – but the passengers didn’t mind. They said it was an experience. They thanked me and my crew.
‘Your Duke,’ they said, ‘is a hero. He stood firm like a Bulldog, and just wouldn’t let go.’ As for Falcon – he sidled alongside and thanked me too.
‘I don’t know why you bothered after I’d been so rude to you.’
‘Oh well,’ I replied. ‘You’ve just had a new coat of paint. It would’ve been a pity if you’d rolled down the mountain and spoilt it.’ That, I tell you, would have never suited his Grace. The lesson that you need to learn is to pay attention. You may not be the brightest – but keep your eyes on your track, and you ought to do just fine.”

“Duke.”
“Yes Terasaka?”
“Your old line was messed up.”
“It was honestly rather tame all things considered,” chuckled Duke. Terasaka could only stare at the old engine in horror as the two headed back to the main campus.

Chapter Text

One morning not long after the line was finished, Duke headed down the mountain to collect the children. Karasuma was ‘driving’ – Duke actually could easily control himself, leaving Karasuma to shovel coal into the fire and keep an eye on the pressure and water level.

Korosensei had fitted a condensing unit to Duke – a small, portable one that reused water and kept too much of his smoke from appearing across the mountain and spooking everyone. But disguising the smoke couldn’t keep Karma from blowing Duke’s steam whistle non-stop for five minutes one afternoon when he got bored. That had led to Karasuma giving the delinquent of a student one hundred laps of the school oval.

“There has to be something going on up there,” Asano muttered darkly to the other members of the Five Virtuosos. “We will figure it out.” The five snuck to the very edge of the school, and watched as the students all arrived, walking easily to the entrance to the mountain – and then vanishing.

“They aren’t on the path!”
“Well obviously, Koyama – we’d see them if they were!”

Duke waited patiently at the base of the hill. Only Karma and Nagisa had yet to arrive, and according to Ritsu, they were already entering the school grounds.

Karma appeared first, pushing back the shrubbery and taking a seat in the coach on the only empty seat.

Nagisa went to follow, but stopped at the last moment. The Five Virtuosos all stalked up behind him.
“Where are you going?” asked Asano, slowly and clearly. Nagisa continued up the path. A hiss of steam came from within the bushes. All Five Virtuosos turned to one side to stare at where the noise came from – and Nagisa used the distraction to duck into the forest.

The five looked up again – Nagisa was gone.

Nagisa boarded the coach, plopping down in Karma’s lap. Karma’s ears went red. Duke let off a great whoosh of steam. It filled the forest, shrouding everything in a thick gust of grey soot and white, hot steam. Most of the virtuosos ran back, trying to escape the blast – but Asano ran forwards into the steam.

“I’ll find you!” he roared into the smoke. Two bloodshot eyes stared back at him. Asano went still. The eyes seemed to bore into him, taking away his breath and leaving his gasping. He lurched backwards, scrambling out of the smoke.
“Th—there—there’s a demon in there!” he shouted. The students who’d come to investigate the smoke ran screaming in terror. Duke blasted his whistle, and set off up the hill. To the students of Kunugigaoka Junior High School, it sounded like the shriek of the devil himself.

Duke laughed to himself as they rumbled up the hillside.
“What a lark! What a lark!” he chortled.
“I thought you’d be against pranks,” Karma said.
“What tosh!” laughed Duke. “I used to be quite the trickster. It was all about getting even – asserting myself. Why, there was one time I pulled the greatest joke on Stuart… oh, but I’m getting ahead of myself.” Duke cut himself off, grinning to himself as he heard the students groan. They’d grown fond of Duke’s stories – disturbing though they may be.

The last story Duke had told was about the state of the railways in Britain in the eighties, recalling a time he had gone to the mainland and seen ‘dirty, rotting diesels. “Those who had been non-faceless had given in decades ago, leaving a sea of blank canvases. It was honestly rather appalling – but normal. If you look closely enough, you can tell if an engine ever had a face.”

Not a very nice story, no.

But it certainly kept the students’ attention. With the promise of a story at the end of every lesson, the students had also been learning better. Duke had focused on the connections between events in history, showing each event as not an individual moment, but rather a part of a tapestry of events, all interconnected in some shape. He’d pulled back the curtain on past atrocities, and found his ‘stride’.

That day, as Duke predicted, the students asked about Stuart after they had finished their lesson on the Tokugawa Shogunate and how it had influenced Japanese ideology entering the Meiji era.

“Enough about stuffy old Emperors!” Kurahashi said excitedly as she noticed the clock tick over into the last ten minutes of class. “It’s time for you to fess up – how did you prank your friend?”

Duke smirked.
“Well, it all begins with the special train I pulled in the Summer – it was called the ‘Picnic’, and as part of it, I would stop anywhere along the line that the passengers wanted. They would hop off, and I would collect them in the evening…”

***

Duke puffed along the line, whistling a hello to the platelayer as he worked in his garden.

He loved pulling the ‘Picnic’, showing new visitors his line and taking old friends to their favourite spots. But it was tiring work, and one summer Duke felt worse than ever. One morning, he went along the line as usual, stopping where the holidaymakers wished to picnic.

“Please don’t be late when I come back, or we might miss the boat – and that would never do!” He felt poorly after his run, and went to the sheds to have his tubes and smokebox cleaned…

***

“Wait! What?” Yoshida interrupted. Everyone turned to look at him. “You needed cleaning out? How? Isn’t your… er…”
“Yes, my face is sort of in the way,” Duke sighed. “Ever since ‘the incident’ in ’64, all non-faceless engines have been equipped with self-cleaning tubes, ashpans and smokeboxes. These can be activated in the cab. Before then… we had slots in our smokeboxes used to open the smokebox door from the inside.”
“I’m sorry, are you telling me you could open your face?” asked Hazama. “Cool.”
“Not cool!” Kataoka exclaimed. “Why is that even a thing?!”
“I may have sentience, but first and foremost I am a steam engine,” Duke said sternly. “I must function as a steam engine, or I have no purpose and would have been scrapped.”

Duke let off steam, and chuckled.
“The incident in ’64 was an interesting one to hear about. Apparently, someone forgot to bolt on the engine’s smokebox door properly after a cleaning, and while the engine was in the station a gust of steam blew it open! A school excursion was on the platform – and well, let’s just say it was not a pleasant sight.”

The class shuddered. It was certainly a creepy thought – a face just swinging round to glare at you.

“But yes, I had just had my tubes cleaned out when Stuart bustled in…”

***

Stuart saw the ashes sitting in the pail in front of Duke and chuckled.
“Hullo Granpuff, are you short of puff?”
“Nothing of the sort! This is routine maintenance.”
“Tell you what Granpuff, you’re getting old. You need to take care in case you break down!”
“Pah!” came the huffed reply. “You? Keep me in order? That’ll be the day! What impudence.” Duke puffed away, snorting steam from his cylinders as he did.

Duke couldn’t stay cross for long. It was a lovely evening, and all the picnickers were ready on time. He picked them all up, then started off for the port.
“Couldn’t be better! Couldn’t be better!”

They began to climb.
“I’ll be up in a couple of puffs.” But Duke wasn’t. His puffs turned to wheezes, and his pace slowed.
“It’s not so easy… my valves… would start blowing… now,” groaned the old engine. “But I’ll manage… I’ll manage!”

His wheezing got worse though, and soon he was barely able to move. He struggled on to the next station, and then his driver rang for help. Stuart and Falcon came at once.

“Poor old Granpuff,” he said, “what a shame you’ve broken down.”
“This is the day! This is the day!” chanted Stuart cheekily. The two were coupled up to either end of the train – and then they were off.

They ran onto the middle station, where Falcon had left his train. Falcon continued on to the port with Duke’s train, while Stuart took Falcon’s train, with Duke coupled on behind.
“Fancy me rescuing Granpuff! This is the day, this is the day!” he chortled gleefully. “Poor old engine, poor old engine.” Stuart thought it all a great joke!

Duke was by no means crippled. He sounded worse than he was – and he had heard everything. He listened to Stuart chortling and smiled. He and his driver had their own joke ready.

At first, they used just enough steam to keep going, but the last half mile was uphill.
“Now,” said his driver. He advanced the regulator, and Duke responded with a will. He puffed and roared like the whole train’s weight was on his buffers. The sound echoed for miles around! People ran to see what was happening – it was certainly quite the sight!

Duke uncoupled at the Works Station and puffed alongside. A boy on the platform asked “Why were there two engines on this train daddy? It’s most unusual!”
“Well,” replied the boy’s father, “Stuart broke down you see, and they had to call Duke out to help him. Had a hard time of it too, from the sound of it.”

“Fiddlesticks!” cried Stuart, and he vanished in a cloud of steam.
“Poor old engine,” wheezed a familiar voice, trying not to laugh. “It’s no good Stuart, you can’t win!”

***

“Brutal,” grinned Karma and Nakamura. Nagisa groaned – he could practically see the hijinks they were planning based off Duke’s story.

“Before I conclude my lesson, I have a question: what assassination basic do you think was in that story?”

Maehara put his hand up.
“Is it revenge?”
“No.”
“Dedication?” offered Sugaya.
“Not quite. The answer is…”
“Patience?” suggested Isogai slowly. Duke beamed.
“Exactly! Lie in wait, keep your eyes on your target and plan for the best moment – even if it takes time.”

Duke grinned, as almost instantly his students began chatting amongst themselves with ideas for assassinations.

Chapter Text

Duke considered the students in front of him.
“Alright, the finals for the Autumn semester are coming up next week. The Historical topic on the assessment is the founding of the Tokugawa Shogunate, its relations with China, Korea and the Netherlands and the Meiji Restoration. It covered the period between 1603 and 1868. There will be specific time spent covering the United States expedition to Japan in 1853 and the Dejima trading port. You will also write a one-thousand-word essay on a historical topic of your choosing from this time period and hand it in one day before your exam. This essay will not be marked by the main campus, but is instead to extend your knowledge in preparation for the exam, and to help me understand where you have reached in terms of your learning. Next term we will be covering the Seven Years’ War, its causes and its effects on Europe and the world. Until the date of the exam, Korosensei and I will be both helping you with any questions you may have. I am also available for help with English, French, Welsh or Sudric. And for your assassination basics: persistence. Hunt your target down, and do not relent. Failure gives your target the chance to retaliate.”

“Thank you, Granpuff-Sensei!” chanted the students, and headed off to lunch. One, however, stayed behind.
“Karma, to what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Duke, slightly snootily. Karma raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
“Duke—”
“I think I owe you an apology for how I spoke – it was unbecoming of me. Please, go on.”
“… did you just… apologise?”
“Naturally. I was in the wrong, and it would never suit his Grace to act as though I am in the right. Humility is the mark of a mature person… or engine, as the case may be.” Duke chuckled, and Karma couldn’t help but join in. Duke had one of those infectious laughs – the ones that sounded so calmly, timeless, kindly.

“Well, I wanted to ask about Sudric,” Karma began. “It’s not spoken very often, is it?”
“Unfortunately not,” sighed Duke. “I learnt it way back when – when the valley I worked in was divided between the English and the Sudrians. The Sudrians at the time were staunchly defensive of their home – and the English were stubbornly sure of their superiority. It led to… hard times for many of us. A good example would be on my railway, when they had to lock the doors between Arlesdale and Ulfstead Road. Natives soon accepted this door drill as a matter of course, but visitors to the Island often complained at “being imprisoned without trial”. The English wanted the tunnels widened so the carriages were not locked – and the locals couldn’t pay for it. Some honestly thought all foreigners, particularly English and Manx, were probably not quite right in the head.”

Karma laughed.

“No, seriously? They got that upset over carriage door locks?!”
“Indeed! Of course, that was nowhere as bad as the worst of it – but that is beside the point. Sudric?”
“Well yeah – I…” Karma blushed – it was the first time Duke had ever seen such an emotion cross the usually suave teenager’s face. “I… was wondering if you could teach me some?” Duke smiled warmly.
“I would be honoured to,” he said.

***

Asano glared at the gaggle of 3E students all leaving the mountain track. They all seemed so… so… cheerful. As though they were enjoying being in the End-Class, as if they liked being the worst in the school. The last Finals had been a slap in the face for all of 3A, but with his father at the wheel, they would not lose these Midterms.

He strode up towards the runt of the group – a little thing with light blue hair put up in pigtails – and stopped when the two were chest-to-chest.
“Look at this,” he sneered. “Shouldn’t you be studying? What End-Class behaviour.” Nagisa smiled up at Asano, catching the taller teen off-guard. That smile was… creepy. It seemed so genuine, but held such danger in it. It was a threat.

“We’re studying our hardest,” chirped Nagisa. “The only question is: will you be able to keep up?”
“Are you challenging A class again?” asked Asano.
“Us? Challenge you?” hummed Maehara. “We’ve never issued the challenge before…”
“How dare you!” Koyama hissed, he and the other four virtuosos stalking in behind Asano. “We’ll crush you!”
“Alright,” mused Nakamura. “The class with the most students in the top fifty across all subjects wins then.”
“And when you lose, we’ll demolish your class and you can have your winter classes outside,” cackled Seo. Sakakibara looked vaguely horrified – but said nothing.
“And when you lose… hmmm…” The class all looked to Karma – who surprisingly hadn’t said anything. He was just glaring at Asano.
“When you lose… we get to demand two things of undeterminable expense and you five need to come to school clothes we choose and by a means of transport we choose.”
“A bit harsh,” murmured Sakakibara.
“You want to demolish our building,” Karma retorted, grabbing Nagisa by his arm and pulling him away from Asano.

The E Class students wandered away, leaving the Five Virtuosos to plot the downfall of their rivals.

Asano looked up at the track that led up to the E Classroom, staring at it.
“You go ahead,” he said to his cronies. “I have something I want to investigate.” The four wandered away, leaving Asano alone. He strode up to the gates – the entrance to the mountain that was all but walled-off otherwise.

Almost instantly, he could feel eyes on him, sizing him up, staring, glaring. It felt like bugs crawling all over his skin. Not the centipedes he associated with his father, but rather spiders and millipedes and cockroaches and all sorts of creepy-crawlies, all rising out of the ground to encircle him.

He pressed on.

“Father would think me pathetic for thinking such things,” sniffed Asano, and he stepped foot on E Class soil.

The mountain was staunchly E Class soil – no student from the main campus would dare to enter the area. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if a weight was being slowly added to his shoulders. It grew darker, each moment bringing less light down onto the path than the last. It seemed almost as if the world was closing in on him – but on he persisted.

Then, he heard the hiss of steam, and the distant chatter of a rowdy crowd. He looked around, searching for the source of the sounds.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Eyes.

Red, bloodshot eyes staring, glaring. Steam hissing out into the spotlight Asano was trapped in. He was frozen. Pale.
“What…”
“Be gone,” hissed the voice. “BE GONE!”

Asano scrambled backwards, his composure shattering in the face of a devil which stalks the breathing earth.

He sprinted back, away from the eyes. He didn’t stop running until he reached the very base of the mountain, collapsing to his knees on the path just at the gate.

“Hullo there, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Asano stared about.
“The trees are talking, the eyes are watching, the trees are talking, the eyes are watching,” he muttered, standing and walking briskly back onto the main campus.

Duke paused, from where he had been hidden in the trees.
“I thought that was Maehara for a moment,” murmured Duke. “But it must have been someone else. I shall have to report this.”

With a final puff of steam, he set off back up the mountain.

Duke ran pleasantly – he had managed to run down the mountain forwards, so he could drive himself back up the mountain without worrying about his fire – he could bump coal off his tender and down into his firebox. The rails were still new, and as smooth as silk. The wind whistled through the trees, and the birds chirped.

But Duke could tell something was amiss.

“Ah, I see you saw the unwelcome one too,” he murmured out loud. Perhaps it was just Duke, but the wind seemed to whisper an answer. Duke sighed, and kept on puffing.

***

“Nagh Beurla.”
“Nagh Beurra.”
“Nagh Beurla.”
“Nagh Beurra.”

Duke chuckled as Karma scowled.
“What’s so funny?”
“As brilliant at English as you have all become, you still have trouble with your ‘l’ sounds. Now, one more time: Nagh Beurla – I do not speak English.”
“N-nagh Beur-la – I do not speak English.”
“That’s it!” cheered Duke. “Now just work on getting it to flow. The next word I am going to teach you is: Scaca – wooded hillside. Appropriate, is it not?”

Karma rolled his eyes.
“It easier to get up the scaca with you about. Less walking.”
“You impertinent youngster,” huffed Duke, “be off with you!” Duke began to laugh, and once again Karma found himself drawn into laughing alongside the old engine.

Karma had exchanged some of his Maths class for time spent with Duke, slowly learning the Sudric language. Duke was perhaps the best source for learning Sudric left – he knew the language intimately. He would even sometimes rant in Sudric when annoyed at one of the students.

“Deighan!” he snapped at Karma one morning when the student attempted to prank Duke with a tripwire.

Duke had avoided the tripwire – so Karma had cut it himself. Duke was plastered with pudding – leftovers from Kayano’s failed assassination earlier in the week.

“What does that one mean, teach?!” called Karma.
“It means,” began Duke calmly, “that you had best watch over your shoulder.”

That afternoon, Karma missed the train back down the mountain – and then there was no train up the mountain the next morning. And then, as he came treading up the track, he managed to step on a piece of coal from Duke’s tender and fall over – into a puddle of grease and water.

He turned up to class with the biggest scowl on his face, and stormed straight over to Duke.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” asked Duke innocently. “I suppose you missed the train this morning. I did mention it during the trip down yesterday. Due to the weather, I suggested they all stay home.”
“What weather?!”
“This weather,” Duke replied, and he shunted back into his shed just as the heavens opened and poured rain down upon the mountain. Karma shivered – either with rage or just from the cold.

“Well? Don’t just stand there – come in!” Duke called. Karma went to argue – then saw Duke’s face. It was dead serious.

Karma trudged into the shed, and heaved the doors shut behind him. Warmth flooded his senses.
“What—”
“I am a steam engine Karma – ergo, I have a steam boiler and a fire. Hang your outer clothes to dry on that rope hanging over my boiler.”

Karma instantly stripped down to his pants, hanging up his coat, shirt and socks to dry. He left his shoes on Duke’s running board, and after stoking Duke’s fire, pulled up a crate and sat in front of him.

“So… what did… Deighan? Yes, Deighan – what did it mean?”
“First of all – perfect pronunciation!” cheered Duke. “Congratulations. Secondly, it means devil. Dreeym-y-Deighan is Devil’s Back, which I am told is quite the climb.”

“What’s Devil’s Back?” asked Karma. Duke was only too happy to tell the young student.

***

“So… who won the challenge?”

Chapter Text

Asano stared at his paper, unable to even vaguely comprehend the words on it. They seemed to swirl – like the steam, the steam and the mist in the forest where the eyes – the eyes… the eyes.
“Please turn in your papers.”

Asano looked up in horror. He’d answered… maybe three questions. Scribbling down as much as he could before the teacher reached him, Asano could already hear his father’s disdain.

When the results came back – they were indicative of his failure. E Class dominated the top fifty – all but five of them were on the list, and then several B and C Class students pushed other A-Class students down… down in the ranking to positions that left them all in tears.

Araki, Koyama and Seo all stared at their results in abject horror, and Asano didn’t dare open his. Only Sakakibara looked alright.
“Okay,” Sakakibara eventually said. “I came in sixth overall, but 27^th in history.
“I… I came in 17^th overall.”
“I came… 23^rd.”
“I came 31^st.”
“I… I know I came first. I had to have.”
“Asano… will you let me have a look?” asked Sakakibara gently. Asano began to shake violently – shivering with barely concealed panic, and practically sprinted out of the class. The packet was left unopened on his desk. He scrambled through the hall to the bathroom, and vomited into the toilet.

“Asano Gakushuu, please come to the Principal’s office.” Asano wiped the bile off his mouth, and flushed the toilet. He straightened his uniform, he adjusted his wild hair. He washed his hands, he gargled water to try and rid his tongue of the taste of shame, of failure.

Then, he started up towards the Principal’s office.

***

“Come in.” Asano could already feel the daggers stabbing into him, the centipedes twisting their way around him, creeping up and surrounding him, forcing him into each step forward. He’d lost everything, he’d failed.

 When he stepped into the office, he could see his results on the table, he could see the voided stamp pressed into his documents.
“You have failed.” His father did not shout, did not even raise his voice. No, he used his seething anger to enunciate every word perfectly, hammering home every loss, every failure. He used contempt, disdain, disgust. Each word was like a physical blow, puncturing wounds into Asano and leaving him gasping for air.  
“Your marks are the worst in not only the grade, but in our family’s history. Now, there is only one option for me: you will have to go and learn with the scum we call Class 3E.” Asano collapsed to his knees.
“No! Please father. No, don’t do this to me – I am your son. I am worthy of A Class!”
“Stop this pitiful grovelling. Prove your worthiness to me at the Finals.”

And that was the end of it.

***

The next morning Asano went to the hill where his doom awaited him. He stopped at the bottom gate and looked around; all he saw were several 3E students. All of them were walking into the bush.
“Weirdos,” he grunted and started up the long, steep track. “I’ll show them… I’ll show them all,” he muttered. He refused to be defeated by the hill – by being reduced to 3-E. He would destroy everyone in the next exams, he would make his triumphant return. He would prove himself to everybody – to his father. And then he would win, and his father would be the failure.

As he walked, he noticed something. He could hear the faint puffing of a steam engine.
“Not again,” he muttered – but the sky wasn’t closing in – and the sound of revelry he heard the first time, the revelry that came before the eyes – it was absent too. Then he noticed metal rails sometimes appearing in the ground, sometimes running along the dirt track, sometimes crossing over it and vanishing. He chuckled bitterly.

“Seems those idiots in Class 3-E have built some sort of light-rail system. Well at least it makes getting down the hill easy.” Further along, he saw more rails driven into the soil; dark, red soil. Red… eyes. Red eyes. Bloodshot red eyes. Staring into the soul. As if to compound his imagination, at that moment he heard the puffing again. It was somewhere, somewhere in the vast forest. Asano began to laugh.
“I’m going crazy,” he said to himself – and continued walking. Still, he came across no one. He knew that at least someone had to be on the trail. And yet there was no one. None. Was he going to be the only student there? The only one to get an education in the class of slackers? Well – he checked his watch – he was perfectly on time, so who knows. All the other students had run off into the forest… maybe they had a short-cut. But even then, wouldn’t they have reappeared somewhere – at least to cross the river?

(The Class 3-E students had crossed the river much higher up on the railway – Duke’s line crossed the river twice on wooden trestle bridges that had been built as part of a physics lesson and coated with a special water-resistant paint taught during a Chemistry lesson.)

Panting, he finally reached the top of the hill – he gasped for air, taking in deep breaths, and then looked up.
“Hullo there.”
“What the actual fuck?” There was a steam engine with a face! And a carriage! And all the other students! Talking to the engine!

“You must be the new transfer student,” the steam engine said. “Asano, correct?”
“What are you?”
“The proper greeting would be who are you. What I am is quite obvious: a steam engine.”
“But… you have a face!”
“I am a non-faceless engine. We are generally an English thing these days – though I believe a couple live in Australia and I heard of one in China too actually…”
“He’s dead,” Karasuma supplied.
“Ah, shame. Now, I believe you lot have English first. Go enjoy your lesson, and remember that we will be covering the Silesian Wars in history.”
“Yes Granpuff-Sensei!” chanted the students sweetly, and ran off before Duke could reply. Asano was left staring at the little engine.

“Why would you do the Silesian Wars? It’s not in the syllabus,” Asano eventually said.
“Perhaps not, but understanding the Silesian Wars is imperative to understanding the Seven Years’ War we will be doing in the syllabus. Not only those, but also the early wars in North America – mostly French and Indian Wars.”
“I… are you what I saw?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The steam, the whistle, the puffing – that was you, right?”
“I am a steam engine Asano. It most likely was me.”
“And the eyes? Were they you too?” Asano pressed. Duke raised an eyebrow.
“Eyes? I do not think I’ve ever laid eyes upon you properly. Perhaps a glimmer in the bushes – I mistook you for Maehara once and called out to you.”
“So that was you? But what about the red eyes?!” Duke sized up Asano for a few moments, then paused.

“Red eyes, huh?” mused Duke. “Now that is interesting.” To Asano, however, he said: “We could possibly have an albino animal of some sort on the mountain – I wouldn’t put it past this place. Now hurry along or you’ll be late to class.”

Asano practically sprinted towards the old building, leaving Duke behind to think.

He burst into the room – and was met with a giant yellow… thing.

“I… I…”
“You must be Asano-kun!” chirped Korosensei. “I’m Korosensei, and I will be your teacher while you are in Class 3E. Karasuma should be along any moment to explain everything to you – but in essence, I will teach you, and in return…” He paused impressively. “You will do your best to assassinate me.”

This was all a bit too much for Asano, and Karasuma had to quickly whisk him away before he fainted.

The pair had tea in the shed with Duke.
“Let me get this straight: there are two state secrets here. One is the yellow monster in the classroom who will blow up the earth if the class doesn’t kill him – and we’re all being trained as assassins to that end. Okay – and the second is this engine?”
“Yes. Duke is a former informant of a line of Assassins which supposedly links him to Korosensei. We are still trying to figure that bit out.”

“I am right here,” huffed Duke indignantly. “And let me tell you, you have next to no knowledge on the working of the assassin world. Why, the second to last Reaper – well, he was an Argentinian bloke. Survived long enough to hand the title off to a successor.”
“Is he…”
“Dead. Yes. Real shame too – he was one of the nicer ones. Got eaten by a shark off the coast of Australia – no one’s quite sure why he was out there in a suit, but que sera, sera.”
“Someone dumped him in the ocean to be eaten by sharks?!” yowled Asano, his eyes going wide. “This is not normal – what… why…”
“I’m a steam engine young man, everything is normal to me. I lived through the Victorian era, the World Wars and being buried alive – I think a couple curveballs here and there from students with daddy-issues are within my capability.”
“Daddy-issues?!”
“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind – remember this piece of advice when attempting to assassinate your teacher: surprise him. He is incredibly perceptive though, so we are counting on your intelligence to figure out a blind spot.” Asano nodded, and strode away to class, knife brandished in his hand.

Duke watched him go, then sensed the slightest movement on his left.
“Put down the blade.”
“How?”
“Karasuma, I have been around long enough to know when someone wants me gone. What would you like to know?”
“A couple names, and more importantly: are any Reapers still around?”
“There are three left alive – two retired, one active. The active one is the current ‘God of Death’ – and the other two are unimportant. Now, let me remember… before the current one, there was a Japanese man. You ought to know him. Then before him was the Argentinian, the Mexican – they often went by nationality to disguise their identities, not that it ever really helped – the Indian and the Saud who spent most of their careers trying to off the other – and I haven’t even gotten past the mid-seventies so…”
“So who is left alive!”
“Two Japanese and a Frenchman. The Frenchman was active in the early seventies, and the two Japanese are the two ‘Gods of Death’ I mentioned earlier. No, I will not give names. Oh, and by the way—”
“Yes?”
“I knew the very first Reaper. Ever. Ta-ta,” Duke puffed out of the shed, leaving Karasuma to mull over what the old engine had told him.

The old engine may just have more secrets than he thought.

Chapter Text

Asano began to acclimatize to E Class. It was not the world’s most comfortable place – he quickly understood why none of them wore the proper school uniform. The chairs were hard (and creaked), there was no heat control whatsoever – so in the cool weather: the more layers, the better. And of course, there was the… unique curriculum that was taught. Alongside the usuals – there was also some weird hybrid class for running a railway, first aid and assassination techniques.

Completely normal to most of the 3-E students. And now, Asano.

Another part of the acclimatization to the class was getting used to the new teachers. Jelavić-Sensei had a thing for flirting with everyone and anyone – and from stories he’d heard, she’d apparently French-kissed several of the students (they all called her Bitch-Sensei!) but she was also one of the best language teachers he’d ever met. Then there was Karasuma-Sensei, who proved to be stern, and also rather grumpy without coffee. He sounded like a tired mother half the time – and the other half he was demanding answers from Duke or trying to avoid the class’ girls so they wouldn’t flirt with him (and yes, for some reason the class’ girls included Jelavić-Sensei). Duke was an entire package in and of himself – seeing as he was not only a freaking steam engine, but also extremely intelligent (for a non-human) and a great story-teller, if not rather dark. His stories were full of respect for authority and a heap of horrible accounts of death and torture. But he always told them with a twinkle in his eyes (the students called him ‘Granpuff’ for some reason). Oh, and he was always ‘wheeshing’ steam in Karasuma-Sensei’s face. 

And then, there was Korosensei himself.

Asano couldn’t for the life of him get a grip on the weird yellow ‘octopus.’ Yes, he finally knew the secret of Class 3E – but he also now knew why it was a secret. He also now had manicured nails, a bejewelled notebook and perfectly-plucked eyebrows. Because that was what this creature did to people when they failed an assassination: he ‘beautified’ them. Okajima was covered in bows, Kurahashi had a full-face of geisha makeup and Karma was in an apron with a picture of a dog on it. Only Nagisa seemed to escape this beautification – lucky him – but that might have been because he spent his time quietly jotting down weaknesses. And boy, did the weird octopus-thing have weaknesses! He couldn’t go near water, he was a damn pervert and he got motion-sickness unless he was driving Duke.

What a weird teacher. Perfect for his weird class.  

Of course, joining E Class meant he escaped the punishment for losing the bet – and it was quite hilarious to watch the procession. Duke and Korosensei had called in a couple favours, and gotten a steam traction engine to bring them to school. Sakakibara was in his usual uniform – but with some crazy socks and a rather nice black leather jacket. He got to stand with the crew, learning about how to drive the traction engine. The other three, well… Araki was in a jester costume which had all the trappings including the cap 'n' bells and poulaines. Seo was in a full ballgown, with frilly bows and lace practically dripping from him. Koyama was in a literal potato sack, complete with overalls and splattered in what most students hoped was engine grease. They were all in a rather disgusting excuse for a cart.

Craziest of all, the steam traction engine had a face!
“Wh—”
“Hullo there, I’m Trevor!” the traction engine said cheerfully. Yep, there was another one of these face-having vehicles. “Oh, it is nice to be able to meet new people. Maybe after this I’ll get to go the kindergarten and give the children rides. Would you all like rides? I have another cart – and it’s clean!”

Even ignoring the traffic jam the ancient traction engine had caused, he was causing a huge commotion.
“Where did E Class get a traction engine with a face?” asked one student.
“Is it real?” wondered another.
“It speaks such good English!” gasped another. “Maybe it can teach?”

Trevor towed the cart into the courtyard, then stopped. His safety valve popped up, and steam whooshed out. The noise was deafening! It sounded like heavy breathing united with the frantic beat of pistons. His flywheel was spinning like mad, and yet he wasn’t moving at all. The sun shone, and Trevor looked so happy.
“I do love the sunshine,” he murmured happily.

The Class 3E children all hopped up onto the clean cart (which Trevor had towed behind the filthy cart the three virtuosos arrived in) and Trevor happily chugged away, blowing steam and smoke everywhere. Asano – to his amazement – was even helped up onto the cart by Kurahashi. He sat with the others, smirking down at the jealous students of A-D Classes, and let Trevor rumble away into the forest.

He could even see his father turning a brilliant shade of purple in the background!

“What a lark,” he chortled to himself.
“What? Seeing others degraded?” sneered Terasaka.
“What? No! Seeing my father turn purple cause of your antics. I may have been rather… uppity – but I dislike my father just as much as you all.”
“Great speech bub – but how can we trust you?” came the snapped reply. Asano wanted to reply – but he really didn’t have a retort.

“I thought so,” finished Terasaka. The class went back to chatting amongst themselves – and Asano was left alone, to quietly contemplate just how badly he’d screwed up this class.  

***

Trevor was perhaps the most inefficient method of transport that had ever existed – but Asano refrained from saying that out loud. Partially because Trevor could hear him, and partly because the other students seemed to be having the time of their lives. Trevor was too – he could tell. And honestly – so was he. It was refreshing being able to lay back and enjoy going slowly, spending a few minutes crawling up the hill behind a true beast of an engine.

When Trevor reached the top of the hill, Korosensei was waiting.
“Trevor will be helping out in your English and History classes for today, then he’ll be heading back to England,” Korosensei explained. At that moment, Karasuma burst out of the staff lounge.

“Did you steal another vehicle?!”
“I… I asked this time!” Korosensei exclaimed. Trevor chuckled.
“Did the Vicar call?”
“No – it’s all over the news! Traction Engine brings Tokyo to a Halt. The authorities are ridiculously confused.”
“I’ll return him tonight,” Korosensei replied petulantly.

Karasuma turned to glare at Duke.
“I’m guessing this is your fault.”
“Nonsense youngster,” huffed Duke. “Why would I want to cause public disorder and make that rat of a Principal angry?”
“We’re just lucky he hasn’t ventured back up the mountain since Takaoka,” sighed Karasuma.

Karasuma grumbled away while Duke winked at Trevor. Trevor chuckled, and once all the students had hopped off, the two wandered over to a corner of the football pitch together to reminisce.

The tyre tracks Trevor left behind were nothing to be sniffed at either – and Korosensei began chasing after the Traction engine to clean up the tilled soil.

Asano waited a while, then walked after the two old steam-powered machines.

“Um…”
“Oh why hello there, youngster,” greeted Trevor.
“Hi. Err… can I ask a question?”
“Of course,” said Duke. Asano took a deep breath.

“How do I get the other students to like me? Like… not begrudgingly accept me – but actually want me around. I… it’s weird here, my entire world has been turned on its head, and I feel this immense pressure to succeed, but also this relief because I’m not right under my father’s thumb? And I want to have real friends, not cronies. I had Ren… but he’s down there in the A Class, and I’m here…”
“It sounds like you need allies,” Trevor murmured wisely. “You need allies – or friends, because without them the target is on your back.”
“Trevor, nicer language please,” huffed Duke. “Young Asano, what you need to do is be honest with them. Be genuine. You have always acted so pompously – like this one engine I knew… but that’s beside the point. What you need to do is prove to them you are here and you want to know them. Take an interest – Kayano is fond of pudding, Okuda is interested in Chemistry, Sugino wants to be a baseball player – they all have their interests, hobbies, passions – and all you need to do is show an interest in them. Show off some of your hobbies too—”
“And try to act like there isn’t a massive stick rammed up your—”
“Trevor!” Duke admonished. Trevor chuckled.
“I do apologise for him,” sighed Duke. “It’s been a while since he was in the assassin world, and he’s excited to be back.”

“Wait… he’s an assassin’s informant too?” asked Asano. “But…”
“Most non-faceless steam engines built before 1900 had some sort of affiliation with the underworld,” Duke said coolly. “And on that note, you need to get to class. Karasuma is already storming over for another round of interrogation after all.”

Asano nodded, and hurried away.

Chapter Text

Trevor had a go at assassinating Korosensei that afternoon. The teacher went over to talk to him… and Trevor fired a hailstorm of Anti-Sensei BBs out of his funnel, the pellets raining down on the mountainside. Korosensei scrambled inside at Mach 20 – but even that wasn’t quite fast enough for the few that pelted his tentacles. Two burst apart with a splat, and the teenagers cheered.
“How’d you do that?” asked Kimura.
“I utilised the assassination basics,” Trevor replied. “I waited patiently, worked with my allies Duke and Irina to get my steam pressure right and fill my funnel, I listened to the information I could gather and used it to my advantage, I paid attention to my target and then I surprised him at a moment where he couldn’t run.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hot sparks,” Trevor replied. The students looked about – and sure enough, there was a small pile of embers in a dug-out pit. “Korosensei couldn’t know where they would land, so he had to dig a pit and zip about trying to find and grab them. A BB had to hit him eventually.”

The students stared at the kindly old traction engine in horror.
“Wh… huh… how?”
“Most elderly non-faceless engines learnt basic assassination techniques and became informants – if not criminals and crime lords. I myself was an informant – but I did get asked to help with a couple other tasks… I can operate a saw after all.”

A couple of the students looked vaguely sick at the implications.

“But… but… you’re kindly Trevor!” Fuwa burst out. “You take children on rides, you work at a Vicarage!”
“I am, and I do – but I have a past,” Trevor said. “I lived in an era that was dangerous. You either got protection, or you got scrapped.”
“He’s not wrong,” Duke sighed. “I knew an engine whose firebox was used to cremate enemies. His crew were actually members of a gang, and while they acted like a usual crew, the entire purpose of running that engine was so people could ‘disappear’. It was normal.”
“He’s not wrong,” chuckled Trevor. “There wasn’t a yard in Europe without an engine keeping an ear out for a local lord. And some became crime lords too! There was one in…”
“Sodor, Trevor. They were on Sodor.”
“Really? Who?”
“That Wellsworth and Suddery engine – once came to try and threaten the Reaper, ended up in the drink? The Brendam Bay incident?”
“When the brakes didn’t work? Oh, I remember now!”

The students continued to stare in horror at the two old engines reminiscing fondly over the crime, betrayal and murder!

“This is not normal, right?” asked Asano to no one in particular.
“You weren’t here for Duke’s ‘family-friendly’ stories, were you?” asked Takebayashi. Asano shook his head.
“Oh yeah! My favourite’s still about that one engine who drowned,” Hazama grinned. Asano gaped at the girl, then sighed.
“Okay… so this is normal.”
“Yep. I can’t wait to hear what he comes up with next!”
“You just like it ‘cause it’s always so dark and yet somehow still true,” Takebayashi complained.
“And is that wrong?” Hazama chuckled. It was… unnerving to say the least.

***

“Does anyone have a word to describe Trevor?” asked Duke.
“Ruthless.”
“Karma, be kind to our guest,” huffed the old engine.
“No, no,” guffawed Trevor. “I’m happy to hear something other than ‘kindly’, ‘old’ or ‘quaint’! It’s a nice change!”
“You are all messed up in the head,” groaned Asano.
“If you two are like this, what are the other engines on Sodor like?” asked Fuwa.
“You mean Edward, don’t you?” mused Trevor. Fuwa blushed.

“Edward doesn’t have a bad bolt on his undercarriage,” Trevor said. “I got his protection for him – secretly of course. The entirety of that island – bar…”
“You, me, Neil, the Wellsworth and Suddery engines and that one loaned engine,” Duke cut in.
“Ah, yes. Bar that lot, Sodor was really far too quiet for informants. The Skarloey Railway went nowhere interesting, and then the other companies had one each – bar the Wellsworth and Suddery group, which ran a smuggling ring until they got on the wrong side of the Reaper.”
“There is so much wrong with everything you just said,” Karma said. “And that’s coming from me!” He held up a tube of wasabi, as if that justified his words. The rest of the class took a step away from him, bar Nagisa.

“Oh please,” huffed Duke. “The big issue was that we all outlasted our usefulness. An Assassin killed his Grace, the Duke of Sodor during the war – there was no Reaper during the war, so I never got the news. With the devastation of Europe in both World Wars, many gangs moved away from England to other places – Sicily, Russia, the USA, Japan – and we informant engines were left without anyone to fund our existence. The Government jumped on the chance, and nationalised the railways before using the Modernisation Plan to both rid them of old steam engines – and the underworld connections. Some of us got lucky – but I think Trevor and I’d be the last two informant engines. Trevor?”
“I think there’s still the Scot, but otherwise pretty much. All informant engines in Britain were built during the Victorian Era, and kept it a very closed-group. And British Railways always withdrew the Informants first.”
“I forgot the Scot!” laughed Duke. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s in full retirement – same as me. Still can’t believe he managed to get preserved – he was one of the most ruthless of us all.” The two shuddered.

The class let the fact that there had been ‘informant engine politics’ and a literal Government massacre of ‘informant engines’ sink in.

“Damn, you two have the coolest stories,” Hazama said. Terasaka stared at her in thinly-veiled horror.

***

Trevor was carefully cleaned by the students that afternoon. Then, they gathered around him before Korosensei could fly him back to Sodor.

“Alright young ones,” Trevor said. “Listen and I’ll give you a tip for assassinations. The fact is, that you need to have a ruthless efficiency. No one murders without losing part of their humanity – it’s a cold fact of life. We hate killing – I hate it, Duke hates it, all people start out hating it. But successful assassinations involve detaching, and going after your target with no hesitation. Be ruthless, spare no thoughts for feelings – and be efficient. The less unnecessary violence, the less need for retaliation. That’s where the Wellsworth and Suddery engine went wrong. She overextended herself, she threatened the wrong people, she let her ruthlessness slip. And then it was her slipping – right into the ocean. It’s a horrible truth, but one all assassins have to face eventually. And every night, I say my prayers. I managed to survive to now, and if I’m lucky I’ll be around for a while yet. But I have done things. Said things. And I suppose it’s never really too late to atone. If you find a way to save the earth without killing your teacher, pursue that – but never leave anything unchecked.”

The students nodded silently – they had a lot to think about.

Trevor then turned to Duke.
“You know what I want to say, my old friend. You’ll have to deal with him sooner or later, whether you like it or not. Just be careful, alright?”
“I know, I know,” grumbled Duke. “I will.”

Trevor chuckled.

“Same old stubborn Granpuff. Well, I’ll be off. Oh, and Granpuff – another friend is closer than you think.”

With that mysterious parting, Korosensei hefted Trevor up into the air, and zipped away.
“Gee, he really is strong,” murmured Nagisa, chalking up another one of his teacher’s strengths in his notebook.
“Yes,” murmured Duke. “But he’s getting weaker…”

Karasuma strode over, and stopped directly in front of Duke. He stared straight into the old engine’s eyes.
“The Indian Minister for Defence was just assassinated, and a bouquet of flowers was left at the site.”
“And you want to know whether or not I have information about it. Me, who has been on this mountain and cannot use a computer or phone? Me, who normally uses eavesdropping in train stations and hasn’t been in a train station for what… three months? If I was to know anything, it would have to come through the youngsters, or one of you teachers. What I do know is that a hit on the Indian Defence Minister had been out for nearly a year when Korosensei brought me in. He’s made enough enemies from Beijing to Berlin to Boston to fill a tome!”
“Do you know who put out the hit?”
“The original was a collective anonymous hit – financed by a collective and submitted anonymously to the assassin’s system. Payment would be handed off in Vienna International Airport after the hit was completed – with the proof of killing being his left pinkie finger. The money and finger would swap hands, and then they’d vanish. The killer would probably head into Austria, and then deposit the money in a tax haven nearby, while the other would hop on a flight. Easy setup, classic one too. I’ve seen similar done in a train station on my old line. Whether the deals’ changed… an interesting thought – but not one I’d indulge in. They rarely change once an anonymous collective puts out a hit – the money on those is obscene.”

Karasuma jotted down everything Duke had said, then hurried away.

“They won’t catch the killer,” sighed Duke.
“Why not?”
“Austria will refuse to host the troops needed, not to mention that Karasuma can’t issue the order without evidence – and he can’t say I gave the evidence, because I’m currently missing – and that would ruin the Japanese Government. After all, if I gave evidence, then that would mean they are holding me somewhere – and I am sort of regarded as ‘stolen property’ right now.”

Duke let off steam loudly, spooking the students and sending them hurrying back to the classroom. Then, he rolled back into his shed and was alone. 

In the darkness of his shed, no one else could hear the groaning and wheezing of Duke's old parts. 

Chapter Text

The leaves on the trees began to fall, and the weather turned icy. Snow hadn’t begun to fall quite yet though. Karma sat in the shed with Duke, watching as the few remaining birds flittered about, collecting fallen twigs and bits of fluff for their winter nests.

“Shane Dooiney – the old man.”
“Shane Doo… okay, say that again?”
“Shane Dooiney – the old man.”
“Shane Dooiney – the old man.” Duke grinned.
“That’s it, youngster!” The old engine smiled down at the young teen. “Now off you pop – class begins soon.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’d rather stay here – at least it’s warm.”

Class 3E had no heating system whatsoever – it was either infinitely cold, or infinitely hot. And the slowly-rotting wood did nothing to insulate the classroom either, leaving it unbearable; inhospitable. Irina had taken to spending her breaks sitting in the shed with Duke – and the class had followed. It was getting rather cramped. The elbow in Nagisa’s gut was testament to it.

“We differentiate the equation by multiplying the power by the coefficient and taking one from the power,” Korosensei explained, drawing up the new equation on the whiteboard. The students nodded, and Duke sighed. This was the third class that day… which had had three periods.
“Korosensei, must you have all your classes in my shed now?” groaned the old engine. “I can hardly get a wink of sleep. I’m an old engine – I need my rest.”

Karma – who was sitting on Duke’s running board with Nagisa – leaned back against the old engine’s cheek. Duke scowled at the red-head.
“You get to spend more time with us,” Karma taunted. “Don’t you like that?” Duke could see the devil horns and tail sprouting from Karma. He was plotting something – shame Duke was going to put a stop to it.
“No,” replied Duke. He checked behind him, then whistled loudly and began to back out of the shed. The students gaped as Duke nudged open the doors and puffed away. Nagisa tumbled off the running board – then carefully broke his fall and rolled away from the line. Karma hung on, eyes wide.

“Really?!” he yelped.
“You forgot I’m a steam engine,” smirked Duke. “One who knows how to drive himself. Now, you had best go back to your maths class.”
“Nope.”

Duke sighed – arguing was futile with the redhead after all – and kept on puffing. The students who had been sprinting after him gave up (Duke could do near enough forty miles an hour, and when he had the space to, would do so), and soon it was only Duke and Karma wandering along one of the many outlying lines that Korosensei had built across the mountain. They were nominally so Duke could go pick up the students after a PE lesson somewhere around the mountain – but they were really there so Duke could go have some time to himself. Which he now wanted.

The mountain was far bigger than most assumed – and actually was made up of three hills, with the school being part way up the tallest. The three peaks eclipsed one another, making the entire thing look like one hill from all angles when in the city. There was also a small, lush, basin of a valley, right near the centre of the hills, where water would collect and wash away into one of the rivers and creeks that dotted the landscape.

It was here Duke went, letting the points guide him.
“How do you go somewhere the points aren’t set to?” Karma asked as they ran.
“That young Itona designed a timed pressure plate system – if I want to change the points, I pause on the pressure plate and after a couple moments, the points change. Clever one, that Itona. And yet still clueless – same as you.”
“Hey!” What did that mean?

Duke came to a stop at the head of the valley, the creek spread out in front of them. It was a rocky area, leading down towards where Itona and Terasaka had fought that one time further down. But up here – it was green. Beautiful. Tranquil. Moss grew over the rocks, trees and bushes filled the landscape and flowers snaked into the gaps. The only disturbance to the nature thriving here was a single rail line that ran along a ledge further along, and this little siding.

A deer waded through the stream. A bird fluttered overhead. Duke let out a gentle sigh of steam, and closed his eyes.
“I’m going to have a rest. You’re free to snooze in my cab,” said the old engine.

Karma took up the offer gratefully. It was toasty in the cab – and it was perfectly sized for him to sit in. Karma yawned – the warmth was settling in his bones and forcing his eyelids to droop. He flopped onto his side, laying with his back against the cab walls – and fell fast asleep.

The world around the old engine was peaceful, calm.

A whisper of air pushed against Duke’s face, and he opened his eyes with a sigh.
“Trevor knows you’re here too. And you spooked a student of mine. What happened to subtle?”

***

Karma felt a chill blow into the cab, and he opened a sleepy eye. The world outside was filled with smoke – he couldn’t see a thing. It was almost like an impenetrable fog had descended on the mountain, blocking all signs of the world around. 

“They weren’t a student of yours then.” Who… who was that? It was like no voice Karma had heard before – it was horrid, scratchy – like someone had clawed at the person’s voicebox for hours.
“Perhaps not – but you were to keep out of sight! Subtle, remember?”
“Sorry Granpuff. Then again, you still haven’t told my story.”
“Telling that story means revealing the first Reaper – and we both know what he’d think of it.”
“He wouldn’t care,” spat the voice.

There was the sound of steam escaping from cylinders, and then a flash of red – and then the fog was lifting.

“Who was that Duke?”
“Hmm?”
“That voice.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about. Maybe you were dreaming,” Duke said kindly. Karma scowled – he knew what he’d seen, what he’d heard. But… he held his tongue. Nagisa was rubbing off on him (if only…). He’d just have wait and see what else he could gather. Duke was hiding something – but Karma just couldn’t figure out what.  

***

The students were a bit kinder to old Duke after that incident. They didn’t crowd his shed for every lesson, instead taking to spending their lunches in the shed, lounging about on a couple ratty old sofas they’d found and a few old crates pulled off of shelves.

“We need an upholster,” sighed Duke.
“A what?”
“An upholster – someone who works in upholstery.”
“Nope, never heard of it.” Duke paused – and realised he’d been speaking in English. Quickly amending his speech to Japanese, he repeated what he’d said. The students still looked at him funny – but more for the fact he’d suggested they need someone to fix up their couches.

“How about you tell us how to fix the couches instead?”
“I honestly couldn’t say,” Duke said. “You lot do know I am basically clueless when it comes to most things, right? I am confused by most modern technology – I missed nearly thirty-years’ worth of advancements while I was shut up. I went from hearing that nuclear weaponry had just been developed to seeing colour TVs and these ATMs and all sorts of other things. And even then, I was on a small railway in the middle of nowhere. Do you honestly think someone was teaching theoretical physics and chemical processes out there?”

“Well…”
“You do know quite a bit about that…”
“No, that came later. I learnt what I knew then because it was practical. A good example is rifles. I know a great deal about hunting rifles and coastal defences because they were built near the line. But if you asked me about one of those automatic machine gun things…” Duke trailed off. “Actually… I learnt quite a bit about armaments from various assassins. Tell me, have any of you considered using a Krummlauf-style gun?”
“A what?” asked Terasaka.
“A Krummlauf,” Duke repeated. “It was a German gun that could shoot around corners. Slipping one of them around a corner and firing at Korosensei could be clever. Especially if you used several to create some sort of diamond shape – so he can’t run in any direction.”
“We’ve tried something similar,” Chiba murmured. Duke hummed.
“Well then, you should know the set-up.” The students nodded, grinning at one another.

“And if you coupled it with an immobilising poison to slow his movements and potentially drenching him in snow or water – then he may just be a sitting duck,” Duke added. “Alternatively, a bomb could be useful…”
“A bomb?”
“Never you mind,” Duke said softly, a haunted look in his eyes. The bell rang in the distance. “Back to class now youngsters – you have Japanese Literature now, and I am very excited to hear your poems.”

The students hurried away – and Duke noticed Asano tentatively talking to Kurahashi as they headed inside. He smiled – it would seem like the former perfect-boy was fitting in nicely.

Chapter Text

It was time for the school festival. These were usually held midway through Autumn, when the school was sitting at its quietest time, right between the previous finals and the upcoming midterms – but this year it was later than usual, due to the Principal waiting for the media storm surrounding Trevor to die down before announcing it. And once again, the students of 3E had something riding on success.

“As you all know, the school festival is based on this insane amount of rivalry that the school has,” Korosensei began. “However, this year it is later than usual – which puts us at the advantage.”
“I was going to sign on a restaurant chain,” sighed Asano. “Guess that’s out of the picture.”
“Definitely,” murmured Itona.

“But how are we going to attract customers – especially up here?”
“Easy: we have a few secret weapons.”
“Which are?”
“It’s the last week of Autumn,” Korosensei began. “Which means…” He whipped out a basket of mushrooms, several branches of acorns, some freshly-caught fish and ginger roots. “The best of the mountain’s resources are at our disposal!”
“There’s a Nashi pear tree on the climb that’s in full bloom right now too,” noted Okano. “And probably other fruits and stuff around the place!”
“Exactly!” grinned Korosensei, changing colours and displaying his usual ‘right’ circle in the centre of his face.  
“What’s the second weapon?” asked Terasaka.
“Why, it’s Duke,” Korosensei replied.

The students all went silent. Then, their eyes went wide.
“Of course!” exclaimed Maehara. “Duke can bring customers up! And we can charge a little extra for that! He can also help us pick!”
“Bingo!” cheered Korosensei. “We have plenty at our disposal – all we need to do is sell it.”
“We’ll attack our competition with our sharpened weapons of excellence,” announced Isogai – and the class cheered in response.

Only Asano looked confused.
“Isn’t Duke… supposed to be a state secret?” he murmured. The others all ignored him.

***

Duke whistled loudly, startling the fish towards the nets the students had set up. Kurahashi and Asano checked them over, splitting the edible, adult fish from the rest and scooping them up into eskies filled with ice. A deer bounded into view, and Duke paused.
“It’s old enough,” he said. The others stared at him in confusion. “Venison,” Duke said, answering the unasked question.
“Should we?” asked Asano. Kurahashi shook her head, while Duke hummed, considering.  

They let the deer go in the end – instead, they found a veritable orchard of Fuji apple trees hidden in one of the little-known nooks of the mountain. They filled crates with hand-picked apples, and placed them on one of the four trucks Korosensei had ‘borrowed’ from the railway Duke came from. Itona led a group of students building an extra few coaches for Duke, and extending the line to include an extra loop at the bottom of the mountain so Duke could always be facing forwards.

The students rounded up plenty of ingredients, and Duke explained proper salting methods he’d picked up from Sudrian fishermen to them. They found a tonne of cucumbers (grown from seeds spat out by Karma across the year) and pickled some while keeping others fresh.

Finally, they were ready for the opening day.

***

Yada stood at the base of the mountain, beaming at the passers-by.
“Come on up! Acorn noodles made with real acorns! And a train ride!”
“A what?” asked a young boy, practically sprinting over. His mother and siblings followed.
“Yes! We brought Duke the Lost Engine all the way from England to meet you all!”
“No way,” spluttered the eldest sibling.
“We’ve got to go see!” the young boy exclaimed, jumping up and down. The mother sighed, while the eldest son rolled his eyes.
“We might as well.”
“Right through here! There’s a sign for the train station just up there!” Yada said cheerfully, pointing down the dirt track.

A few other people followed, walking along the path until they found the sign. Here, the land had been hastily cleared just enough for people to walk through the fifty or so paces to the ‘station’. It was little more than some cleared ground and a little corrugated iron shack. A sign proclaiming the station to be ‘the Green’ stood next to the hut.

“It’s an actual rail line,” murmured the mother in disbelief. She, her kids, and the other customers stood at the station, and paid the small ¥200 price for a ticket, handing the money over to Maehara.

They did not have to wait long. Within ten minutes, there was the distinct blast of a steam whistle, and then the steady beat of an engine puffing. The young boy gasped in amazement as a small, brown engine came puffing out of the trees, with a wizened old face and a beaming smile. His nameplate had been polished until it shined, and he had a headboard fastened to the lamp-iron on top of his smokebox. It read ‘The Picnic’ in Japanese characters.

“No way!” gasped the young boy. When the engine stopped, he dashed up to it, and stopped in front of it. “Are you really from Sodor?”
“Why yes,” chuckled Duke. “My name is Duke, and I work on the Skarloey Railway. Sometimes I even meet Gordon, Henry and James.”
“So cool! No way my friends are going to believe this!” the boy cheered, and he sprinted away.
“Invite them to come see me themselves,” Duke called. “That’ll make them believe you!” The boy beamed at Duke, and hopped aboard.

Once the passengers had boarded, Duke whistled loudly, Itona opened the regulator, and he set off.

The line wandered around the little loop, and then followed the path for the first few minutes, before turning sharply left and beginning up a small hill. It ran along this long, curved section of line for some time before crossing over the normal path again just before the great crevice in the ground. It swung right here, passing under itself as it skirted around below the elevation of one of the many lakes that dotted the mountain, looping right the way around it. It continued around to the right, following a natural embankment up until it reached the height of the lake. Crossing over itself, it ran to the left of the lake – crossing over a small trestle as it did – and then turned in line with the river that ran from up in the mountains. Here, it ran near where Itona had fought Terasaka, before looping around and over itself again to arrive at the second trestle bridge.

It crossed over that bridge, and looped up and over itself twice, climbing all the while. By doing this away from the original path, the line missed the landslides that the path was prone to – and gained height on a much gentler curve. It crossed yet another bridge – this one being further up the river to the formerly-broken bridge the path had once had. Finally on the right elevation, it crossed over the points that led to other parts of the mountain, and burst out of the forest and onto the Class 3E grounds. It followed the edge of the oval around to the ‘top station’ – which was in essence the former gym shed which Duke used as a home – and everyone hopped off. It took nearly ten minutes to head up the entire line – which was about a third of the time that it took by foot, and far less dangerous.

The twenty odd people Duke brought wandered over to the store, joining the small – but steadily growing – group eating at the tables the class had set up from their own writing desks. More people were wandering up from the main campus, tackling the long trek for a bit of exercise (and to pinch their pennies!). Duke whistled a cheerful goodbye to them, then headed back down.

A group of odd delinquents were amongst those who chose to walk instead of catch the train. By the time they arrived, Duke had already dropped off two lots of people.

“Huh, nice place ya got here,” said one in their low, gravelly voice. They all looked exhausted – having just clambered all the way up the mountainside.
“Hey?” Sugino turned in surprise – these were those all-too-familiar delinquents from way back when the class had gone to Kyoto.

Wanting to destroy the class by criticizing the food, they sat down with the signature dish – only to be blown away by Muramatsu and Hara’s cooking. The delinquents were doing their best to hide their enjoyment of the food… and failing miserably.
“Remember… remember! We need to say this is crap…” ordered the head-delinquent – but he didn’t sound all that confident.
“Oh no!” gasped a sultry voice. The delinquents all turned. There was Jelavić-Sensei (Bitch-Sensei, Asano!) dressed in a simple white turtle neck that left nothing to imagination. “Oh dear, did you not like my students’ cooking?” The delinquents all got nosebleeds.
“No, no, no, no, no! It’s crazy good!” the head-delinquent exclaimed, literal hearts in his eyes. It was honestly a little pathetic to watch.
“Oh? Then how about this persimmon-loquat gelatine?” asked Bitch-Sensei, sensually rubbing the picture on the menu with a perfectly-manicured finger. “It’s exactly as soft as my skin.”
“Yes ma’am!” yowled a delinquent. It was like listening to horny dog yapping.
“And if you eat one of everything, it would make me so… happy,” she went on, trailing a nail down the head-delinquent’s cheek. He turned bright red.
“B-but I… I don’t have the… cash.”
“There’s one right by the train station…” Bitch-Sensei whispered huskily, leaning in. “An… A…T…M.” The delinquent’s eyes went foggy.

“I need to make a withdrawal.” They sprinted off, leaving cash slammed on the table for the food they’d already bought and paid for.

Muramatsu and Hara were not the only ones who’d worked hard to blow away the customers with their stall. With Fuwa in charge of ‘uniform’ (was the number of frills necessary?), Sugaya having drawn the posters, Okajima having taken pictures of the food, Hazama having written descriptions for the menu and Mimura having made a website that Ritsu took and plastered in online advertisements across the region – the set-up was truly a class project. It was everything they needed to pique their customers’ interests.

Other familiar faces filtered through. A couple of Karasuma’s old friends, the assassins they’d met on the vacation island, the students of the kindergarten they’d rebuilt – friends to the E Class students wandered up to eat and enjoy the food the group made.

It was actually gaining traction.

Korosensei watched the proceedings from inside a gaudy fish-statue.
“We’re doing quite well,” Kimura noted. Takebayashi nodded beside him.
“Agreed, but it’s only Day One – the battle has only just started.”
“According to my recon—” The three hiding on the roof jumped.
“Itona! Why aren’t you with Duke?!”
“He can drive himself.”
“We can’t let people know that!” Korosensei exclaimed, eyes wide.
“That’s why Asano is topping up his water and coal now.”
“You—!”
“Yes, Korosensei. Me. Now, according to my recon, Class A seems to be doing about as well as us – however it seems like they have no clear leadership, so it’s a bit… all over the place.”

Itona wasn’t wrong. With Asano gone, the four remaining Virtuosos had gone a little… mad, and created ‘cliques’ in the class – well, okay – three of them had. Sakakibara watched on in horror as the class split into three, each third competing with the other two loudly and angrily.

“We should do a maid café!”
“No – a rotating stage like what Asano planned!”
“Or we could hire a traction engine – like that one that brought us that one time!”
“Do you like rolling around in the mud like a pig?!”
“Well we don’t have half the connections Asano did – how are we supposed to run this stupid stage thing?!”
“That’s why a maid café is the best option!”
“You’re just a pervert.”

In the end, they had ended up with a weird combination of ideas – a sort of Frankenstein exhibit. They had the two stages – same as Asano’s plan – but rather than having food galore, they instead had drinks being served by classmates in frilly maid costumes. And to add to the weirdness, the design had a steampunk/farm life theme, with steam randomly shooting out of the walls.

The only reason people kept going in was the drinks – oh, and the couple of contacts they did have, which included some pretty damn good local bands and comedians.

Still, word of mouth spread about the food at 3E’s stall. And, more notably – word spread about Duke.

“They seriously have an actual engine from Sodor!”
“Which one?”
“Duke the Lost Engine apparently – he’s that one from Season Four!”

The news spread like wildfire. You see, Japan has a very devout Thomas & Friends fanbase – and Sodor itself had hosted thousands of Japanese tourists year after year. There were even replicas (with faces artificially added on) that ran on some of Japan’s heritage railways, and an exhibit of the models used in the television series were on display at the Hara Model Railway Museum. So, to hear that a literal engine from the fabled island was not only in Japan, but running a line for a school festival?!

Well, people began to flood into the school.

A news crew appeared on the second morning. Principal Asano met them at the front gate.
“What is going on?” he asked. “As much as our festival is news-worthy, it is unusual for crews to appear this early in the week.”
“We’re not here for the festival!” laughed the news reporter. “We’re here for Duke!”
“Duke?”
“The Lost engine! He went missing from Sodor several months ago – and he’s appeared here in Japan – and he’s working for Class 3-E! We’ve got to go snag an interview!” The crew rushed away, leaving the Principal in their dust. He took a moment to school his expression, then stalked off after them.

Chapter Text

Duke was not surprised when the camera was shoved in his face. Annoyed? Yes. Surprised? No.
“How did you end up here?” asked the reporter. Duke groaned internally.
“I am not quite sure. I was in my shed one night, and the next I was in a warehouse somewhere in Spain. Some billionaire in Dubai wanted me to run his personal train set or something – only, that turned out to be a front for that Indian Defence Minister. Of course, he was killed earlier this year – and then I was on a ship again before the police could find me. I wound up here in Japan, and the wonderful Principal of this school found me. He built me this line here, and asked that I help out with the festival before heading home. I had to agree – I literally can’t say no, I’m a steam engine.” The reporter laughed at the… questionable joke.

“So, is there anything else you want to say?”
“Come see me at Kunugigaoka Junior High School this week only – I am part of Class 3-E’s all-natural ingredient restaurant, just inside the gate to the mountain. For two-hundred yen, you get a round trip with me, and for even cheaper prices you can have a hearty meal cooked using traditional methods!”
“Thank you for your time!” the reporter said, and turned to give her opening and closing spiels to the camera while Duke waited patiently.

“Did you want a ride up? It’s a long walk.”
“Oh! Yes please!” And with that, another three people paid to hop onto Duke’s train.

The Principal followed, paying the fee and slinking aboard the last carriage.

The trip up was as incredible as ever – and Duke entertained the passengers by regaling stories over the loudspeakers they’d installed in the coaches. He also called out when he spotted anything of interest – like a deer, or a rare owl. His Japanese had gotten much better while being around the students of Class 3-E.

When he got up to the top station, he surprised all the passengers again by having a fluent conversation in Sudric with Karma as part of an act. Several passengers gave huge tips to the old engine and the redhead, then went off to spend even more money at the restaurant.

Sugaya very quickly drew a new poster to go up beside their one advertising the restaurant. It said: ‘Come see Duke the Lost Engine – only at Class 3E’s restaurant!’

Principal Asano said nothing to anyone as he strode calmly past the restaurant and into the backroom of the old school building. There sat Karasuma and Korosensei. The latter had on his smug face: gold striped with green and topped off with his signature smirk.

“You stole a priceless artefact for the festival.”
“No,” sighed Karasuma. “Korosensei stole a priceless artefact several months ago to be a teacher. He’s also been teaching history and assassination tips to the children and generally being a father-figure.”
“This is illegal, and you did not consult the school board before bringing in a new teacher.”
“We didn’t have to – Duke is part of a state-secret program linked to Korosensei. I am legally not even allowed to say anything more. Duke created a cover-story for the media, and will ‘vanish’ at the end of the week. By which we mean of course that he will supposedly be crated up and shipped back to Sodor, only to stay.”
“You are not allowed to have him teach, and he may not give any rides.”
“You are in no position to say that, dear Principal,” called a voice. Principal Asano spun around, to see Duke at the window. “Hello there. As I’m sure you heard – you built this line and found me. You are a public hero for finding and saving the Lost Engine. To go back on that would ruin your reputation.”

The Principal glared furiously, and raised a hand to hit Duke through the window. Duke’s safety valve popped up, and scalding steam erupted into the air.
“Be careful,” warned Duke. “I am a steam engine after all.” Karasuma and Korosensei took a few strong steps back. Principal Asano stared at Duke, and Duke stared back.

“This is not over.”
“I think it is. Bring it up again, and you will be brought in by the Japanese Defence Force for questioning,” Karasuma said, stepping in. Principal Asano stormed out, heading for the station.

“Thank you for stepping in,” said Duke quietly. “I can only do so much.”
“I guess I’m enjoying your presence too,” muttered Karasuma grumpily. Duke smiled warmly.
“I knew there was a softie under all that cold exterior,” he chuckled, and headed off.

The Principal rode the train back down to the main campus, then disembarked, stepping around to the front.
“I think I want to decrease the pri—” Duke let off steam loudly, enveloping the Principal and drowning him out.
“Principal Asano is paying for all tickets for the next hour!” Duke shouted excitedly. The crowd cheered, rushing up to the Principal and shaking his hand or thanking him. The Principal glared.
“I do three trains in an hour, and each train holds fifty people. Multiply that by ¥200…” Duke said quietly.
“¥30000.”
“That would be the correct number, yes.” The Principal glared, and opened his mouth to snap something, only for a parent to excitedly hurry over and start yammering questions about school fees.

The Principal forked out the cash and handed it to a jubilant Maehara before storming away.

***

Another familiar face – this time Yūji Norita – appeared on the third day. After hearing about the train (and some digging he’d done himself), he’d come up to see his beloved ‘Nagi-Chan’. Karma stared with barely-concealed fury as Nakamura changed Nagisa’s pants into a pastel monstrosity and sent him out to try and gather as much money off the rich-kid as possible.

“Jealousy truly is the green-eyed monster – or gold-eyed in your case.”
“What jealousy?” sneered Karma. Duke looked up at Karma, a twinkle appearing in his eye.
“You have a thing for Nagisa, don’t you?” asked Duke. Karma rolled his eyes.
“Nagisa’s my best friend and I like teasing him.”
“May I tell you a story? I have a half-hour break right now.”

Duke looked up at the clouds.
“I once knew a young lady by the name of Samantha. Samantha was the most attractive woman in all of the valley, if not Sodor! Her father knew this, and planned to marry his daughter off to the ‘best’ suitor – by which he of course meant the wealthiest. However, Samantha also had a very close friend – a milkmaid. The milkmaid was desperately in love with Samantha, even though it was taboo at the time.” Duke paused, a frown etched into his face.

“I never really understood why, but such is human law – it always seems to hate those whom are not the same. Women, foreigners, those of differing orientations in all senses of the word. We non-faceless vehicles are actually included in that: almost all non-faceless vehicles would be considered aromantic-asexual by your human standards… bar James, who was always so flamboyant… but I’m getting off track.”
“Pun.”
“Oh hush youngster! Now, one evening, the milkmaid could bear it no longer, and told Samantha. To her delight, Samantha felt the same way. The pair planned to escape the valley and head to South America, where such acts had been decriminalized some years prior. However, the night before they were due to leave Samantha’s father tricked Samantha into a date with a man – and by man, I mean the Duke of Sodor himself.”
“Wait… you?”
“No – my patron, the Duke of Sodor. I am named after his Grace.”
“Ah.”

“Now, his Grace arrived to meet Samantha, and was… not amused. He had actually been looking for a new secretary, and when he arrived to find that the father wanted him to take Samantha on a date… well – he went with Samantha ‘on this date’ – but instead help secret her to the harbour, gifted her some money – and then said goodbye to her and the milkmaid.”

“Duke, what was the point of this story?”
“Ask him out!” huffed Duke. “You will regret it if someone else gets to him first… like say… Kayano?”

Karma rolled his eyes and stalked away – but Duke could tell his words had had an effect. He also noted Itona dashing away over the rooftop.

Yūji Norita left after having bought the entire menu, been confronted with several assassins wandering in to try the food (one was trying to eat with a gun, and had been quietly placed as far from the massive crowd as possible), and then learned that Nagisa was in fact a boy.

He left before Nakamura could trick Nagisa into putting on one of Fuwa’s frilly aprons for him. He really, really, really did not want to be in woman’s clothing any longer. And while Karma thought he looked cute in the dress, he agreed – Nagisa looked infinitely better in his usual clothes.

Lovro also made an appearance, wandering in around the back and stumbling across Duke as he was preparing to head off on his next shift.
“Well… what a surprise.”
“Lovro? Last I’d heard you were stabbed in Turin.”
“Pleasure to see you again too,” huffed the old man.
“Likewise,” chuckled Duke. “It’s nice to see a familiar face. Having Karasuma interrogating me over assassin culture was getting tiring.”
“I heard you taught him about the hit on the Indian Defence Minister.”
“Only after the hit went through, Lovro.”
“The Japanese tried to get a force sent to Vienna – got the twenty questions over it. Clever. Put a lot of pressure on Karasuma to lay off you afterwards, didn’t it?”
“Yep,” grinned Duke.

The two chuckled like old friends – and Nagisa looked vaguely horrified.
“You two know each other?!”
“Who do you think taught me?” asked Lovro. “Almost all assassins have been to meet this old bastard and listen to his stories.”
“And I see my teachings in the young Irina – you’ve done well for yourself Lovro.”

“Just how integrated is Duke into the assassin world?” asked Asano as he and Nagisa watched Lovro wander away as Duke headed off to pull his next train.
“We’re… not entirely sure,” admitted Nagisa. “We tried doing some research, and we can find connections as far back as the 1890’s, but the trail goes cold around when the first ‘God of Death’ appeared. He’s in a photograph with Lovro from the late 70’s – which is a little worrying considering the Cold War – and there are mentions of ‘his Grace’ – which we think is his callsign – in hit paperwork all throughout the last one hundred odd years; with the exception of a good twenty-to-thirty years between the late 40’s and the mid-70’s. That’ll be when he was buried in his old shed. As for before then – we only know he knew the first Reaper, and that the two met at some point before 1890.” 
“That’s… a lot to take in.”
“Duke’s been around,” agreed Nagisa. “Though, we’re not quite sure how he knows Korosensei or the First Reaper…”

Duke quietly slipped away – he had heard everything.
“The first Reaper, huh? What an intriguing notion. As for young Ryushi… well, he’s an interesting case in and of himself,” he murmured, not being heard by anyone.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the students of Class 3E found that the line both for their restaurant and for Duke the Lost Engine were massive. They stretched out through the school and onto the road.
“We’re going to need more coaches,” murmured Itona.

He, Terasaka and Yoshida hurried off to find some wood to build a new carriage – but of course Korosensei was ahead of them.
“I got in contact with an old friend and got a few extra carriages built!” he exclaimed, pointing to the rack of eight coaches coupled on behind Duke.
“He stole them from the Skarloey Railway again,” Duke supplied.

Itona hopped onto the footplate, and hurried down the mountain to meet the passengers. A good number were taking the hike up to the class, stopping along the route to take pictures of Duke where the line and path crossed.

“Trainspotters,” grumbled Duke. “Absolute menace.”

Things only got crazier, as the other classes found their stalls absolutely barren of customers. Huge numbers were lining up to head into the mountain, regulated at 100-person groups by Yada and Kataoka for the train and free to wander up on the path.

The restaurant was at full capacity. Half the class was constantly out finding more ingredients on the mountainside while others cooked and served. They’d built new benches for the customers to eat at, and even those were full.
“We’re going to have to find a new place to grab acorns and fruit,” Chiba said, dropping a massive sack of acorns onto the floor of the makeshift kitchen. “And potentially a new spot for fishing.”

Within half a day, the financial position of the school had flipped. Where 3A had at one point been the most popular attraction (somehow), now it was 3E, which was pulling in customers on two fronts. And they found out why fairly quickly.

“I did some digging, and I found a major food blog which posted about us!” Ritsu said, popping up on Chiba’s phone. She flashed the website up.
“Yūji Norita’s food blog…”
“He has a what now?!” Nagisa yelped.

Things only got busier for the poor class.
“Should we maybe get Trevor back?” asked Takebayashi. “He could give rides while people wait for their food.”
“Or we could take turns singing and performing so we don’t have to pay for yet more coal,” suggested Nagisa weakly. Coal was not cheap, and Duke was consuming it by the tonne. 

Both options were chosen in the end – and soon Trevor was chuffering about the 3E oval with a large wooden cart behind him, giving the children rides. The class was at full-tilt, heading even further into the mountains in search of ingredients, often using the rail lines to help them cart back the produce. Duke directed them to a gully filled with more persimmons, which led to a creek full of fish and a pair of massive acorn oaks.
“What else is on this mountain?!” asked Okajima incredulously as they picked the fruit and nuts.
“Probably a demon,” Asano replied ominously.

Karma had a decent singing voice, and every hour he hopped up on behind a microphone that had been hastily set up and sang a few songs, much to the customers' delight. That then spiralled, as Isogai, Asano and Kanzaki all ended up taking turns singing. Nagisa spent half the day doing his best to avoid Nakamura and her dresses, eventually swapping roles with Itona just so he wouldn’t have to be near the blonde.

And so began the last day of the school festival.

***

Sakakibara Ren watched as the A-Class students argued and pointed fingers. Their ‘venture’ had been a massive failure. The food was decent at best, and their acts were getting stale. Worse yet, the weird steampunk/farm/maid café aesthetic was (as Ren predicted) abhorrent.
“I’m going out,” he said to no one in particular, pulling off the guitar he was supposed to play when he next went out. “I don’t think anyone’ll miss me.” He left it leaning against a crate filled with uneaten food, and headed towards the mountain. “Gakushuu would’ve done so much better,” he muttered darkly.

It was incredibly busy! Ren had sort of heard about the ‘special attractions’ E-Class had managed to find – though he was still a little befuddled as to why people were so excited about a steam engine. He decided to walk up, joining the crowd of people milling about the E-Class building. They had set up a couple basic carnival games on the oval behind the building (and when did they get such a nice oval?), and a long queue for ‘the steam traction engine’ (was that Trevor? Was he back?).

Asano was doing some sort of ‘open-mic’ bit off to one side – he sang and played the guitar, with a donation box next to him. It was quickly filling up with spare change.
“This next song is a classic from Elton John – thank you to Kanzaki on the piano and Terasaka on the drums. It’s called ‘I’m Still Standing’.”

As Asano sang into the microphone, almost all the students in 3E could tell his song was directed at his father.

In the crowd, Ren listened to the song in amazement. It was small wonder they had raised so much money. Ren was convinced that the figure they were giving wasn’t even the proper one – he guessed they were probably squirreling away some money to buy a proper heater for the winter. And maybe refurnish the old building. Though why they hadn’t cashed in on their favour was something of a mystery…

Ren paid to get a traction engine ride, and was thrilled to see Trevor again.
“Hello again young Ren,” the traction engine said when he spotted the teen in the crowd. “How’ve you been?”
“Very good, thank you!” cheered Ren. “Been busy?”
“Oh yes,” laughed Trevor. “It’s wonderful! All the funds I make are going to the Vicarage to help fix the leaky roof. The class has done wonderfully.”

Ren ate a bowl of their noodles, and couldn’t help but be amazed at the incredible taste.
“We’re cutting your description there, author – you have a thing for talking about food.”
‘I do not Fuwa. I just believe food is the greatest uniting force on the planet. All people love eating, and eating together—’

Fuwa rolled her eyes, and the author skulked away to continue with the story.

Just as Ren finished his bowl, a very familiar whistle blasted through the woods. Ren’s head whipped around, and he practically sprinted to the makeshift station by the shed.
“No!” he gasped.

“Duke!”

***

Okay, so how did Ren not know Duke was on Kunugigaoka Junior High School mountain? Well, it all starts with his family. They don’t own a TV. At all. He is one of the wealthiest students in all the school, but his family does not own a TV. Why? Because his parents both believe that TV rots the brain, and that spending time watching such a device leads to laziness, ineptitude and failure. Harsh, but in some cases fair.

On this line of thinking, they also restricted access to video games, the radio, the computer and to any other electronic device bar Ren’s iPod. In other words, Ren got to know about what was going on in Japan from the newspaper. And, due to the way the A-Class exhibit had gone, he hadn’t actually looked at any sort of media for almost the entire week.

It was just too embarrassing.

The school’s festival was known nation-wide – and reported on nation-wide – so for A-Class to collapse into the dumpster-fire it had, well... it had caused a massive fallout in the press.

“I’m sorry your class is this bad,” sighed his father on that Friday morning, staring at the paper in defeat. “And to think that the E-Class was able to find that old engine this year. I’m beginning to wish you were in that class.” Ren had pretended to shrug that statement off – even if he also wished that he was in that class. Though he wasn't quite sure what his father had meant by 'that old engine'. He'd heard they'd gotten a steam engine somehow - probably Gakushuu's doing - but other than that he had no clue what was going on up on the mountain. No one in his class dared even talk about the E-Class, especially near Principal Asano, who'd snapped an entire pack of pencils in the past week alone. 

***

“Wait…” Ren spun around again at the familiar voice, to see Asano staring at the pair in shock. He’d dropped the hose he’d been holding, and was openly gaping at them; dumbstruck. 
“Gakushuu!” cheered Ren, waving excitedly. Asano went very red, and Duke got a telling glint in his eyes.

Korosensei grinned at the trio from where he was hiding (still in his fish statue), and beside him, so did Fuwa.

Nagisa internally groaned.

Things were about to get interesting.

Chapter Text

“Duke!”

“Wait…” Ren spun around again, to see Asano staring at the pair in shock. He’d dropped the hose he’d been holding, and was staring at them. Dumbstruck.
“Gakushuu!” cheered Ren, waving excited. Asano went very red, and Duke got a telling glint in his eyes.

“Ren! It’s been far too long,” grinned the old engine. “How’ve you been?”
“You two know each other?” exclaimed Asano.
“Of course! Didn’t I tell you about my Sodor Summer House?”
“Your what?”
“Oh yes, young Ren here used to come almost every Summer. He lives up on the Skarloey.”
“Huh?”
“Skarloey means lake in the woods in Sudric – ergo, the Skarloey is the ‘lake in the woods’, not the engine.”
“No, no – Ren used to go to Sodor?! But—”
“I stopped going when I started coming here – the workload meant I couldn’t really leave the country.”
“Oh. My father really screwed over everyone’s lives.”

The three went silent – as did all the Class 3E students eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Wow… are you… okay?”
“I literally just sang an Elton John song – and you know what my father thinks of bi Englishmen.” Ren patted Asano on the back, his hand lingered just a moment too long

“We’ll talk about this later,” Duke said. “For now, go about your usual duties. Ren – at the end of today, please return. I think we need to catch up.”
“Of course, Granpuff,” chuckled Ren, patting the old engine on the buffer before paying the small fee to hop aboard. Now he knew why everyone was so excited. Who wouldn’t be? It’s a real-live steam engine with a face that tells awesome stories! Asano filled up Duke’s tank with water, then watched as the old engine headed back down the mountain.

“Asano! Come help me cook!” called Isogai. Asano nodded.
“Coming!”

As he hurried over, he winced almost imperceivably, the consequence of forgetting to slip into his bedroom via the window. His father still hadn’t accepted that he’d failed so badly, and the repercussions of his fall from grace could still be felt in the bruise on his left side.

***

The last customers were fed and catered to, the last train had run, the makeshift carnival rides had gone silent. A large sack filled with money for Trevor’s Vicarage sat next to the steam traction engine, who’d somehow managed to worm his way into the story for the second time--
“The plot, author.”
Right. Sorry Fuwa, I’ll just get on with it then. It’s always ‘where is the author’ but never how is the author, huh?
“Just get on with it!”

Korosensei grabbed the sack and Trevor, and headed off back to Sodor. He would be bouncing back and forth a couple times – he had to return the coaches he’d ‘borrowed’ from the Skarloey Railway too after all.

At the same time, most of the 3-E students headed on their way, content in a hard-week’s work. They’d utterly destroyed Class 3-A to the point where it wasn’t even funny, won themselves a heating system, a new roof for their class and a good chunk of change for Isogai so he wouldn’t have to go steal goldfish from a festival for dinner anytime soon. Asano himself announced the total profit to cheers from all his new classmates, and a hair ruffle from Kurahashi. He just thanked everything none of them tried to hug him – his ribs still hurt.

As the sun began to set, Duke made one last run down the mountain, dropping off most of the students and teachers, before picking up Ren and heading back up. Duke puffed up the mountain, whistling to himself as Ren kindly cared for his fire.

“How has it been at the Main Campus?” he asked.
“It wasn’t horrible…” began Ren, “but ever since Gakushuu fell… It’s all been screwed up. A-Class is basically divided into factions, the Principal teaches half of our classes in the most passive-aggressive manner ever and I’m pretty sure someone is pregnant now, because they were driven to find any sort of relief by the amount of stress.”
“That’s… horrid,” sighed Duke. “To hear that such stress is being put upon you… I think you need to get out of there before the entire class goes off the deep-end. The only thing holding them all from crumbling under the strain was Asano, and he’s up here now. You need to find some way to either get into one of the other Main-Campus classes or up to us at E-Class.”

Ren could only agree.

The wind was cool, but not unbearable. Duke’s fire kept Ren nicely warm, and his cab kept him protected from the worst of the wind.
“Soon, I’ll need a snowplough,” grumbled Duke.
“So… you’re not leaving now?” asked Ren, slightly confused. “What about the whole stolen, dragged across Europe and Asia and rescued business?”
“Tell me honestly, youngster, did you believe that?”

Ren paused, then groaned.
“That’s the plot of that story you told me,” he said, flopping down in Duke’s cab. “The one about the lost bird.”
“It is,” chuckled Duke. “Now, what do you think the truth is?”
“You are part of the secret of E-Class, and while you were randomly stolen for it, the Principal didn’t know and now can’t do anything because you spun him into a minor hero.”
“You’ve learnt well.”

They puffed out over the trestle bridge. The late evening sun reflected off the water, dazzling Ren. A single tanuki lumbered out of the woods to drink at the river, undisturbed by the train rumbling past. Duke wasn’t going fast – there was no need to hurry on a line with no other trains.

“It’s pretty incredible what they built for you,” Ren said, staring at the line ahead.
“It is. I am very impressed with my students, they have overcome every obstacle we’ve thrown at them splendidly. His Grace would approve of them, I am certain of it.”
“High praise, coming from you Granpuff.” Duke laughed, and the pair continued on up the mountain.

Asano was waiting for them at the top. He had a broom, and was quietly tidying up the path leading from the classroom to Duke’s shed.
“Thank you for waiting,” Duke said, coming to a gentle stop just outside the shed. His tender was comfortably in the dark of the shed, while his warm boiler was outside, keeping the two teens from the cold. “Now, I believe the first thing I need to say is: Asano, you need to get away from your father. Tonight, if possible. From what I hear, he is a horrible man, and I worry a worse father.”
“He’s not that bad…” Asano said weakly. He scratched at his arm, then almost imperceivably winced at something unseen.
“How about the time you came to class bruised and I had to help you apply makeup?!” burst out Ren. Gakushuu went silent. Duke’s safety valve popped, violently shooting steam into the air.

“How. Dare. He.”
“Uh…”
“I’m going to run him down! I’ll spray him with scalding steam! I’ll roast his bones to dust! How dare he! I… I…” Duke’s safety valve reached a screaming point, and his whistle went off, the noise echoing through the night air. “Ren.”
“Yes Granpuff?”
“Please take Gakushuu – that is how you say it, correct?”
“Yes… sir.”
“Granpuff is fine youngster. Please take Gakushuu home with you for now. I will find an… alternate arrangement on Monday.” Ren nodded.
“Come on Gakushuu, we’d best get moving.”
“Give me a moment to speak to Gakushuu alone please?”

Ren nodded, and stepped away.
“Please don’t get my father assassinated, Granpuff. Please.”
“I am sorely tempted. But I will refrain. However I will be speaking to Karasuma and Korosensei about this. Especially about the bruising on your ribs.”
“I… okay.” Gakushuu didn’t ask how Duke knew, and Duke didn’t tell him. Gakushuu was just turning to put the broom away when Duke spoke again.
“Don’t let Ren go.”
“Huh?” Duke didn’t reply, but there was a telling twinkle in his old eyes.

The engine rolled forwards, out of the shed.
“Here, let me bring the two of you back down the mountain.”

Duke puffed away, stopping for a moment to glare at a small clump of bushes.

As soon as he was gone, Karma stepped out of the bushes, followed by a rather petulant Nagisa.
“I can’t believe you dragged me into this!” hissed Nagisa. “Duke totally knows!”
“Old Granpuff? As if!” laughed Karma. The two huddled together for warmth in the cool night air, Karma placing an arm around Nagisa’s back. It was totally innocent, just what friends do—

Okay, so Duke’s story was bouncing about in Karma’s head. But they weren’t true.

A low cloud hovered overhead. Karma stared at it, just a little too hard.
“Should we go Karma?”
“You go on ahead – I want to check something.” Nagisa nodded, and began back down the mountain, following one of the old short-cuts they’d learnt in the months before Duke arrived. Karma strode across the oval, heading for the open door of Duke’s shed.

The shed was interesting. It had the sports equipment off to one side – with its own separate access door, and then two tracks where Duke and the coach sat. There was probably enough space for another coach in the shed – or maybe Duke without his tender – though there was no real need for either. There was then a bit of empty space on the other side of the coach where the students had pushed the old couches and a coffee table. A couple old crates were strewn about, and…

“What… is this…” Karma pulled out his phone, and clicked on the torch. There was a patch of reddish-brownish liquid on the ground. It was as if blood had mixed with grease and oil, swirling in a great puddle. Karma crouched down to get a closer look. The air grew colder, and outside, the wind picked up. It seemed to race across the ground, blowing up leaves and twigs and hurling them across the oval outside. It banged against the windows. It howled, it roared. Like the roar of gunfire. The sound of laughter mixed in with it, lilting in the breeze. The sound of revelry. The hiss of steam, the screech of brakes – the sound of—

“I knew you were lurking young Akabane.” Karma jumped, spinning around. There stood Duke, glaring down at him.
“Um…”
“Help me turn around, then you can shut the door. We will have a conversation about privacy and eavesdropping on Monday – and I will decide your punishment then. As for what you heard: do. Not. Tell. Anyone. Am I clear?”
“Yes Granpuff,” huffed Karma.

He helped Duke turn around on the little loop, and back into the shed. Then, he closed the shed door. As he did, he couldn’t help but spot a flash of blood-red eyes in the space in front of the coach.

His heartrate quickened, his breathing hitched.

Karma practically sprinted for the path down to the main campus. Delinquents and assassins he could deal with – but those eyes didn’t belong to anything mortal.

Chapter Text

“Asano…”
“Yes Karma?”
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“The red eyes.”
“I see. Follow me.”

***

Karma never did get punished for eavesdropping – purely because he proposed the solution to Asano’s living arrangement problem the next Monday when Ren admitted his parents weren’t going to let Gakashuu stay at their house permanently.
“I live alone – so Asano could bunk with me! I’ve got the space.”
“I have no problems with that arrangement,” admitted Asano, though he did not look best pleased.
“Well then, I suppose that settles that,” Duke concluded. He looked between the pair. “Living together will be hard, but you must both rise to the occasion and prove yourselves.”

They had history first that morning, and the students gathered around in the warm shed. Karma noticed – with apprehension – that the odd liquid from the night before was nowhere to be seen.

“The Siege of Schweidnitz and the Battle of Freiberg were two of the last main clashes between the Habsburg Monarchy and Prussia during the Third Silesian War, which was part of the European theatre of the Seven Years’ War…”

Duke began teaching, leaving Karma to stare vacantly. He could not keep his eyes off the ground where the liquid had been.

“Karma, what are you looking at?” hissed Nagisa. Karma frowned. Even Nagisa’s voice couldn’t bring a smile to his face.
“I’m… not quite sure.”
“Karma! Why aren’t you paying attention? Don’t think I didn’t notice your History marks at the midterms!”
“You mark those? How?” asked Sugino.
“I collaborate with Korosensei,” Duke answered. “Now, Karma – seeing as you believe talking in my class is more important than learning, you can write a presentation on Her Imperial Highness Maria Theresa and her children for the class by the end of the week. It should be at least five minutes long, and mention one consequence of the Seven Years’ War on the family.”

Karma groaned, slumping back in his seat.
“The rest of the class was meant to do a similar verbal assignment, however after all of your hard work for the school festival, I think a treat is in order. No homework in my history class for the week. I know what you want to ask Gakushuu - those who want homework can see me at the end of class. Now, we must talk about King Frederick’s brother…”

The class ended, Duke gave them a new tip for assassination in his usual roundabout manner – talking about the uses of rough terrain and how such landscapes it had affected his own line when it was built – and then they packed up for their next class. Gakushuu grabbed a small homework assignment off of Duke, as did Kayano and Nakamura.

Duke still had some trouble with Japanese honorifics – so he just used the name they asked him to use.

After their maths class, the students headed outside. It was an unusually warm day for the time of year, so they decided to mill about outside, rather than crowding Duke’s shed.

As they did, the sound of a car’s engine filled the air, growling loudly.
“Where is Duke?” asked Karasuma, dashing out of his office.
“He’s resting in his shed,” Karma replied, pointing behind him at the closed shed doors.
“Well, His Grace the Duke of Sodor would like to speak to him – and we can’t credibly say he isn’t here because of that festival.”
“Not my fault,” murmured Korosensei, already in disguise.

A fancy foreign off-road car crested the hill and rumbled onto the school grounds. Out stepped Sir Robert Norramby, the Duke of Sodor.
“Goodness me! This classroom is positively decrepit!” Half the students did their best not to glare at the fancy-talking Englishman. “And to think the other campus is so fancy! What kind of classist structure is this?”

“Er…” That silenced the students.

“Good morning Your Grace,” Karasuma greeted, stepping forwards. “It is an honour to meet you.”
“Aren’t you polite!” gushed Sir Robert. “A military man, probably high-up – Japanese Defence Forces definitely. But why are you here? Are you helping me regain my engine?”

“Your engine sir?” asked Bitch-Sensei, stepping up beside Karasuma.
“The engine, Duke, is technically still the property of the Earldom of Sodor, as my ancestor Sir John Norramby bought him personally and retained the right to retake him if it seemed as though the Mid Sodor Railway was mistreating him – that’s why he wasn’t scrapped in ’48.”
“I… see…” Irina replied, stepping back again.

Sir Robert looked all around him.
“I am impressed though. Very impressed – look at how you’ve designed these rails! It’s almost as though he was here far longer than a week, no?”
“It does seem that way,” agreed Karasuma. “That is because…”
“Sir Robert, please stop interrogating the soldier.”

Sir Robert turned and beamed at Duke, practically dancing over to the old engine.
“Oh Duke! There you are – do you know how worried I was? What if you’d been actually stolen by dangerous people.”
“I beg your pardon? Did you misread my testimony?”
“I read it – and then I read between the lines. They brought you here months ago to smarten up this class, didn’t they? Kidnapped my engine so he could teach English and History and whatever other subjects. Don’t think I didn’t notice the history textbooks in that shed.” He pointed at where one of Duke’s students had left their textbook upended on a side table in the shed.

Duke groaned.
“I think… we need to talk Sir Robert. There is much to catch up on.”
“Alright – but if you think for more than one second that I will not sue this school into the ground—”
“Sir Robert – this is Sir John’s work.”
“Oh. Oh. Well then, we’d best talk.”

Sir Robert hopped into Duke’s cab, and the pair headed off into the woods.

Karma, Gakushuu and Nagisa discreetly followed in the trees, shadowing the old engine as he headed up to the small siding furthest from the campus.

“Sir John’s work? I thought…”
“His successor experimented on him and now these students have a monumental task ahead of them – I have been asked by he himself to help. It all ends in March.”
“It isn’t…”
“No, but both of them are in like professions… ish. He is a military man. The other is the dove.”
“They really are that worried, huh? So why a school?”
“He chose it. I am still working on figuring that one out. Either way, I need to remain here. If not for the task, then for the children. They need to learn about this lifestyle, and then choose to stay as far from it as possible.”
“Alright – but I don’t like it.”

The two headed away, leaving the three hidden in the trees with more questions than answers.

***

“He left. Just like that.”
“Yeah! He spoke to Korosensei for a moment, said something about a… Sir John? And then he was in his car and gone!”
“I wonder what kind of buzz it’s causing on the Main Campus?” asked Maehara. The class turned to look at Sugino.
“Shindō mentioned some sort of mania in A-class, but nothing else.”
“I can find out,” Gakushuu offered. A couple of the students shot him untrustworthy looks. “I can ask Ren after school. I… damnit what will it take for the rest of you to accept me?!” Gakushuu snapped as he dodged a rock hurled at him.

He spun round to glare at Terasaka, who was not at all trying to act innocent even as he held another stone in his hand.

“Hey, don’t look at me. You brought this on yourself.”
“What part of my life did I choose? I live under the man you call a Principal? What part of that screams ‘I chose to be like this?!’ All I wanted was to own a bakery – but no, now I need to become a Doctor-Lawyer in France or something.”
“Ouch,” murmured Karma.
“Look – whatever your home life is like, doesn’t mean you get to spit on us,” grunted Terasaka.

Duke puffed over.

“Terasaka, quit it now. You may have a right to your anger, but you have no right to lash out. Gakushuu, I do believe you honestly owe these students an apology. This lot suffered due to your actions, and even if they came about as a result of your father, it does not mean that he issued challenges or said many of the things you did. Actually, he did – but parroting them did not help your situation.”

Gakushuu looked away for a long minute, then took a deep breath.

“I… I am… I apologise for how I acted,” he said, bowing deeply towards the rest of the class. “I said and did some horrible things, and I want to make up for it.”
“Yeah, cool. We’re good I guess – just help us stab the octopus.”
“I swear you will all need therapists after this,” groaned Duke.
“What about you?!” exclaimed half the class. Duke raised a confused eyebrow.
“What about me?”
“You have more trauma than all of us combined!”
“I had thirty years to get over it while I was buried alive,” Duke huffed.

He puffed away, leaving behind a class of…
“You can’t think of anything, can you?”
‘Shut up Fuwa, I’m trying. You try writing a fanfic about Assassination Classroom and Thomas the Tank Engine!’
“Then just forward the plot? You’ve spent three chapters blithering on about the school festival while you have like… four different plot threads. Use one!”
‘It’s called building tension. I’m addressing one next chapter anyway?’

Fuwa rolled her eyes – and the class stared at her in shock.
“Um… who are you talking to?”
“An idiot.”
‘HEY!’  

Chapter Text

Ren walked into his usual Monday maths class to find the Principal and all of his classmates glaring at him.
“You went to E-Class and gave them money?”
“Is that a crime now?”
“You’ve been very distant recently,” the Principal said. “It seems to be affecting your grades.” Ren gaped at the Principal.
“My grades are currently the best in this class?”
“And this disobedience too – such attitude is unbecoming of an A-Class student.”

In the distance, Ren heard Duke’s whistle echo through the mountains. Visions of Gakushuu’s eyes flickered through his mind – applying makeup, seeing his smile, hearing him sing. He smirked, staring down the Principal with wild eyes.
“Go on. Put me in E-Class. Do it,” he said, stalking forwards. The rest of the class shrunk back in horror. The Principal stood firm, not flinching even as the two ended up chest-to-chest. “I’ve been working on my stamina – I could climb that mountain in minutes.”
“You do not seem to want to change, we cannot have such delinquents in our school. You will head to E-Class starting tomorrow, and you can tell my dear son that he will never, ever, ever be welcomed back in his home without the grades he ought to have.”
“You’re a horrible father,” spat Ren, and he stormed out of the classroom, leaving behind absolute carnage. The Principal kicked into gear, trapping the students in their seats using his words alone. He spoke rapidly, taught everything – his system was showing its cracks – but it would not fall. Not with him at the top. Never.

***

“Welcome Ren!” grinned Duke. “It’s good to see you up here.”
“Same to you,” chuckled Ren. “I got out – and just in time. That class is fit to blow.” The other students stared at the newcomer in surprise. Gakushuu smiled, seeing his old friend again. Internally, Duke sighed in relief – somehow, Ren and Sir Robert had missed each other, if only by a day. That was a reunion that the old engine did not want to witness quite yet.
“Another of the Five Virtuosos? Really?” asked Muramatsu incredulously. “What next?”
“Probably one of my old students,” murmured Duke. “I would place a bet Stuart is on a boat in the Indian Ocean somewhere. Falcon… well, he’s probably complaining about the increase in work my disappearance has had on him, but he’ll be keeping an eye on the news.”

“Moving swiftly on from that,” Kataoka said, “what is really important is: what is going on in A-Class?”
“Well, I guess the best way to describe it is gang warfare,” Ren replied, going to stand by Gakushuu.
“What?”
“The remaining three Virtuosos are basically fighting to become the next head of the class, and they’ve divided the class between them. Without Gakushuu, there’s basically no student order – and the teachers are petrified of the Principal, so he’s in charge of the class most of the time. Which means…”
“The stress level is only increasing…”
“Exactly. There was an actual fight the other day – cause each of the other Virtuosos is trying to get one of the other classes under their sway. They want one of their ‘group’ to join A-Class after the exams, so it’s basically a fight to get someone from B, C or D class up to A.”
“Is that even possible?”
“You need to be top 20 to join A-Class – and there are two spaces open. However, with the way E-Class dominated the rankings at Midterms…”
“We’re the ones who could join A-Class,” chuckled Karma. “We should send Terasaka.”
“I was not in the top twenty.”
“No, but you’d be right at home in all the violence.”
“You—!”

“Good grief,” groaned Nagisa. He went to talk to Kayano – the green-haired girl would agree with him in an instant – but she wasn’t there. She was over by Nakamura, keeping a critical eye on Ren. None of the others noticed – she looked as natural as ever in amongst the others, with not even a single hair or nail out of place. But the look in her eyes…

Ren had been informed of his new teacher beforehand, and acclimatized to the class quickly – and perhaps even better than Gakushuu. That may have had to do with the fact he knew Duke so well though.
“Do you remember that one time with Sir Handel—”
“Oh yes! I still can’t believe you poured soap in his tanks. He’s still furious about that. Oh! What about that one with Rheneas?”
“Skarloey always laughed when we tricked Rheneas,” grinned Ren.
“What is going on?”
“I don’t know,” sighed Kayano, twitching minutely. And there it was again – the cold, calculating look in her eyes. It seemed to bore into Duke this time, as if sizing him up.
“Maybe it’ll help us against Korosensei,” offered Nagisa.
“Hopefully,” chirped Kayano, completely back to normal. Nagisa hid his own confusion – he’d been hiding his emotions for years.

The pair headed off to join the others in the shed, Nagisa wincing for a moment when he put too much weight on the wrong leg.

They joined the others in the den they’d created, talking and plotting together.
“Youngsters!” Duke called, puffing in. “I think that history today is going to be cancelled.”
“What? Why?”
“Because today you will be working on teamwork for a very different lesson. It’s Capture the Flag!”

The children all stared at Duke in varying stages of confusion.
“Explain?”
“Korosensei, Karasuma, Jelavić, Ritsu, one random student from the class and I will be acting as one team, and you lot the other. You will be allowed to set up your flag somewhere on the mountain, and we will attempt to find and take said flag. Korosensei will only be on defence until the last… five minutes – with the game ending at two. You have all greatly improved since the game of ‘Cops and Robbers’ Karasuma told me about – but this time, there’s a couple new faces in the game. Much luck to you all – I would suggest you take the flag in my cab and head out.”

Gakushuu walked around Duke to his cab, and found a furled-up Sudrian flag.
“Nice touch,” grinned Ren, snatching it off Gakushuu with a flirtatious wink. “Good luck to you Duke!”

“Indeed,” grinned Duke. “Oh, and Nagisa! May I talk to you for a moment before you go?”
“Uh… sure.”

The others formed a group on the oval – keeping a wary eye out for a peeping Korosensei and leaving their phones in the den so Ritsu couldn’t overhear them – and began discussing where to hide their flag. Nagisa stayed beside Duke.

“Something is wrong with Kayano.”
“So I’m not the only one to see it?”
“Indeed, but it seems a little odd. Tell me, what was Itona like when he had tentacles?” Nagisa spun round to stare at Duke in shock.
“What does that have to do with anything?!” Duke hummed, his eyes twinkling in the sun.
“Humour me.”
“Uh… he was violent, he was comparing himself to Korosensei… same weaknesses, oh! And he had headaches and he claimed the tentacles were talking to him or something. Like they were screaming at him almost – like they pulled all his anger and sadness and spat it at him. And it was extremely painful, he said.”
“That would be horrible. Now tell me – did Kayano flinch earlier?”
“I thought it was more of a twitch… but…” She had twitched – incrementally, but definitely twitched. “And she’s been sort of… glaring at you and Ren.”
“And Korosensei,” added Duke.
“Yes! She just seems… off.”
“The strain might be a bit too much on her,” Duke mused.

“Nagisa… I need you to help me do something. It might sound traitorous – but it has a purpose.” Nagisa stood silently, watching the group of teens on the field. In amongst them, Kayano twitched again, and just a hint of rage seemed to seep from her.
“… Alright.”

***

“Have you hidden your flag now?” asked Duke. The two teams stood facing one another on the school oval. Hung from the school door was the Japanese flag, ‘improved’ by Korosensei so that instead of the red circle in the centre, it was his face grinning back at the students.
“Yes Granpuff!” chanted the class. Terasaka huffed, not answering; Itona leapt onto his back, and grinned down at the teachers.
“We’ll crush you and be the strongest.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” smirked Duke. “You have ten minutes before we come after you: go.” And he blasted his whistle.

The class dashed away – all except Ren. He wandered over to Duke and calmly sat on his buffer beam.
“Who’s the turncoat?” he asked.
“Sent to worm information out of me?” asked Duke. “Clever tactic – but it won’t work.”
“Is it Nagisa?”
“Can’t say. Guess you’ll just have to trust in each other. Now tell me – why haven’t you left yet?”
“Gotta play my part Granpuff, same as everyone else.”

Duke chuckled, and began backing towards his shed. Ren hopped off and scrambled into the forest in the other direction.

“Alright – nine minutes team. Shall we discuss strategy?” asked Irina.
“Oh yes – after all, we’re playing to win,” grinned Duke. “Oh, and Korosensei.”
“Yes Granpuff?”
“Do you have those clippers you used to remove the tentacles from Itona handy?”

Silence dominated the oval.
“Uh… yeah…”
“Good. Keep them on you.” They talked for a couple more minutes, with Ritsu listening in from the iPhone in Irina’s hand. “Now, time’s up – let’s go Karasuma.”

Duke waited a moment, then gently rolled away, trying not to expend too much steam.

The day was cloudy – it threatened snow in the near future. Duke headed along one of the many lines that penetrated deep into the woods. He kept his eyes peeled for signs of broken branches, a glimmer of Sudrian blue or any hint of the students he was hunting.

He stopped still, then his safety valve shot up, and steam blasted into the tree above him – as well as a couple Anti-Korosensei BBs.
“Yoshida, Kimura – that’s caught. You got hit. Head back to your base and wait out the five-minute penalty time.”

Duke continued on as Yoshida and Kimura dashed through the trees away from the line. He paused again at the edge of a steep ledge, staring down into the valley below. Here, Korosensei had practically carved the line into the side of the valley walls, leaving but a small path for the old engine.

The valley floor looked so far away – but he could also see a familiar mop of red hair.
“Karasuma – converge on my position. I have Karma… and potentially Nagisa and Gakushuu here.”
“On it!”

Karasuma zipped through the trees, his feet barely touching the branches before he was airborne again. He sped along, tagging Takebayashi, Hayami and Yada with an anti-Korosensei knife as he headed for Duke’s position. They all groaned, but vanished in another direction, their clothes camouflaging into the barren late-autumn trees.

“I see Karma. Keep moving – you have a position to reach.”
“I know that youngster,” grumbled Duke. “Just make sure you leave some fun for me.”

Karasuma swept into the valley – and that was when the three pounced. Duke was right – Nagisa and Gakushuu were there – and they had been hiding in the undergrowth. They sprang out on either side of the government agent, and Duke silently puffed away.

He knew Karasuma would be caught – his own strategy relied on it.
“You didn’t mention you couldn’t see them,” grunted Karasuma over the walkie-talkie.
“I did say potentially,” huffed Duke. “Wait your five-minutes. I have a plan.”

Chapter Text

Duke stopped, looking at the tripwire set across the line.  
“Again?” he groaned. He looked about, then grinned. He puffed backwards just a little, then blasted his whistle. A tanuki was startled from its slumber, waddling away and snapping the tripwire. A hail of anti-Korosensei BB bullets flew across the line, just missing Duke. What a terrible trap. 

All the players in the game were wearing special vests that sensed when the person was hit – and Duke had similar sensors attached to his running board, meaning any strike constituted an out. Now, if only his students could be a little less blatant with their traps. 

Duke continued up the line, passing through some pretty magnificent scenery. The lush green of summer was long gone, replaced by craggily torn winter branches and webs of frost that obscured everything. A thin layer of ice shined in the winter sun, which cast a soft glow on everything. The stark wooden branches of the trees stood stark against the grey, almost white grass, already prepared for the snow. The animals of the forest were easier to spot, their dark coats that made them so invisible in the summer canopies now leaving them vulnerable. The winter camouflage the students were wearing kept them well-hidden – but Duke was painted a dark shade of ‘raw Sienna’ – he stood out just as badly as the dark brown owl fluttering away in the distance.   

And yet no one came over. Duke coasted along, making barely any noise. He yawned, watching as the world continued to shift.   

“Time to put this game to bed,” he murmured to himself. He was heading for ‘the tunnel’.  

‘The tunnel’ was the weirdest bit of the network of tracks spanning out from the schoolhouse. It had been dug by Korosensei during a… weird few hours. Duke shuddered at the memory of him and the octopus dumping a barrel of cheap lager into his tank. Lager boiled well… ish. Turns out, engines could get drunk if they tried hard enough – and both he and Korosensei had been trying - for science of course (okay, Duke was feeling introspective and needed an escape). The stupid yellow octopus had then had one of his ‘bright ideas’… while they were both drunk.  
“I live on… on… the other side of this… er… hill-thing. Right?”  
“Right.”  
“So… so if you want to visit… I need to… to… hic! I need to… er… tunnel. I need to tunnel.”  
“But you’re not a mole.”  
“I’m an… octo…cat.”  
“Kitten?”  
“Cat.”  
“Do cats dig tunnels?”  
“I’m a yellow cat – I do… I do what I want! I’m going… I’m going to dig a… what’s the… the… the thing?”  
“A… er… hole?”  
“A hole. I’m gonna dig a hole to my house so you can visit.”  

Two hours later, Korosensei had bored a tunnel through the heart of the mountain – one that was too small for Duke. He’d promised he would enlarge it… and then never had.   

If there was a more defensible spot on the mountain, Duke didn’t know it.   

He came to a stop a few paces from the entrance.   

“Hello! Students, are you in there?” he called. The tunnel was long, curved – Duke couldn’t see very far into it. He could see red eyes, dotted along the roof and walls. Watching, waiting. Vanishing when a single torch illuminated the darkness.  
“Hazama, good to see you.”  
“So you thought of this place too? Did the eyes mention it?”  
“The eyes?”  
“The eyes Duke… my eyes. My eyes that bleed. I have two eyes, and all I can see is red. Red and fire. Screaming fire. It hurts Duke. It hurts!” Hazama seemed to shift, becoming metallic, gaining eyes. Steam hissed from in the tunnel. The voice was scratchy – unnatural. Pained. Masculine.  
“You possessed my student?! Why?”  
“He’s angry Duke. The Reaper has been corrupted, Duke – he wants it gone. Wants him gone.”  
“I am well aware that I will have to take steps to remove the current threat, but that does not excuse this possession. Who else is in the tunnel?”  

The voice pondered, the eyes flicked back.  
“There are four teens – three girls, one boy. There is this one too. All know you are here – but I have stopped time for now. Roll back twenty feet – the snow is about to fall. The majority of your class are hiding above. And do something about the green-haired girl!”  
“Thank you,” chuckled Duke. He puffed back just a little more than twenty feet, and the red eyes faded. Steam billowed out from the tunnel, and Hazama jolted back into normality. She paused, looking around in confusion.  

“Was I… possessed?”   

The snow fell, smashing into the ground – and then the students leapt down after it. Duke smirked at them all as they landed, guns trained on him.  
“What a surprise,” he deadpanned. “Now, one of my own.” He took a deep breath, and blasted anti-Korosensei BBs out of his funnel, before jolting backwards. The BBs flew everywhere, dropping like rain.  
“That’s…”  
“Surprise!” chortled Duke as sensors flashed red. “I’m heading back to base now – and I’d suggest you move yours. Ta-Ta!”  

Duke began backwards, picking up speed as he headed back into the woods.   

“How—”  
“Sometimes, that engine scares me,” Kanzaki murmured, trudging over the snowbank and into the tunnel.  
“What spooks me was how he managed to move back,” Sugaya said. “I mean – he was directly in front of the tunnel, right?”  

Hazama stared at the walls for several moments, then turned to the entrance of the tunnel. She hadn’t been hit by the spray of BBs.  
“We have two hours left until the end of the game, and five minutes before that is when Korosensei heads after us. We have three options then. One: fortify – none of them get in or out. Two: go all out now – try to take their ‘flag’ and hope we get it back here before they can stop us. Three: move the flag.”  
“We could try a mix of all three?” offered Kayano from where she – along almost half of the class – sat waiting the timer to run down. “We need to move bases anyway.”  
“How about the pool?” suggested Nagisa, appearing from the other end of the tunnel with Karma and Gakushuu. “Korosensei and Duke can’t swim, and Bitch-Sensei wouldn’t dream of getting in the water. That leaves Karasuma.”  
“Korosensei could try reaching into the water with his tentacle…”  
“What if we filled the water with Anti-Korosensei BBs?” suggested Muramatsu. “That way anyone that enters the water is out.”  
“This could work!” grinned Kataoka.  

They waited until the five-minute timer was up, furled up the flag, then got moving. They snuck through the undergrowth, avoiding Karasuma and Irina to reach the pool… where Duke was waiting. He smiled at the group, and received a subtle nod from Itona in return. 
“Uh…”  
“Clever youngsters,” he said. “Shame I’m out of BBs… apart from the huge amount of them in crates on my tender.” The students grinned wickedly, and snatched the crates off of Duke’s tender.  

Duke shot a look at Nagisa, and the blue-haired teen nodded in return. 
“Kayano, could you swim the flag out? Kataoka will need help pinning it to the bottom of the pool.”  
“I… couldn’t someone else?”  
“We’re busy setting up other traps,” Nagisa replied.  
“We are?”  
“Yep! We need to keep Karasuma from coming too close so find some rope, sticks and everything else we need.”  

Duke looked from side to side – he spotted Itona staring at Kayano oddly, and Terasaka slipping to one side, near where he expected Karasuma to appear from. Nagisa moved into position at the edge of the pool, pretending to set up a tripwire. Kayano stared down at the water, looking rather desperate.  
“What if…?”  
“Kayano! Hurry up!” called Kataoka. Kayano took a deep breath – and jumped.  

Everything seemed to happen at once.   

Duke blasted his whistle as Nagisa tipped a crate of anti-Korosensei BBs into the water. Kayano gasped, and tried to get out of the water using her tentacles. Itona dashed forwards, leaping at her with his anti-Korosensei knife, slashing at her tentacles. Terasaka spun around and leapt at Itona, catching him as Kayano hit him with her tentacles and sent him flying. Her tentacles grew puffy, and Duke blasted his whistle again. A drone buzzed overhead, firing a cloud of smoke at the pool.   

“That’s—”  
"The anti-tentacle smoke!" 
“Now!” roared Duke. Korosensei burst out of the trees as Kayano lurched out of the smoke, sneezing and coughing. Her tentacles were warped badly, shrinking and shrivelling. Korosensei nabbed at the cells with the equipment in a frenzy, ripping out the connections while avoiding her skin; she was still confused and unable to defend herself. Irina and Karasuma burst out of the trees.  

“What is going on?!” demanded Karasuma.   

Korosensei landed, holding a prone Kayano in his tentacles.  
“She had tentacles fused to her… I’ve gotten most of them – but I need a proper area to remove the last couple. She’s out cold due to the shock of the water, anti-me BBs and the allergen gas – but it won’t be for long.”  
“I’ll carry her back,” said Duke. “You go ahead and prepare a spot.” Korosensei nodded and blasted away. “Kataoka, you come too. That water is ice-cold, and you will catch hypothermia if you do not warm up.” Kataoka scrambled out of the pool and over to Duke, stepping inside his warm cab. Duke began to puff away. Ritsu popped up on Karma's smart watch. 

“And thank you Nagisa, Itona, Ritsu.”   

With that, Duke sped up, racing through the trees.

“What… what was that?” asked Kurahashi.  
“Kayano… had tentacles…” said Nakamura.  

The class raced back towards the main building, led by Karasuma and Irina. The game was forgotten. As they sprinted across the oval, they heard Duke call out to them.  
“Stay outside! Korosensei is almost finished, but an interruption now could kill her.” Duke called them over to his shed, and they all flopped down onto the various couches, crates and chairs they’d dragged in.  

“Hopefully, Korosensei will have something to tell you after this. And if he does not, then I do,” murmured Duke.   

It was a long wait.   

Chapter Text

Terasaka sat, waiting. In his arms, Itona was asleep. He clutched the boy just a little tighter. The memory of Itona leaping forward was implanted in his mind – the memory of a tentacle hitting him, sending him falling, falling. Falling. The way his body moved on its own, sprinting to where he seemed to subconsciously know Itona would land, hoping, praying he would be quick enough.   

He’d caught Itona, but the thought of what might have been haunted him.   

“Why’d you ask him to attack?” he asked Duke, looking up at the tired old engine beside him. Terasaka was sat in the armchair closest to Duke, keeping a watchful eye on Itona and the world outside. It had begun to snow, and the temperature was plummeting outside the warm shed.  
“I knew only Itona would understand. I didn’t tell him quite what was going on – only he needed to attack when I gave the order. He felt the same pain Kayano did, he knew what it meant. He would be able to act in the moment.”  
“He almost got seriously hurt! Maybe worse.”  
“Ah, and that’s the second part as to why I asked Itona, and not Karma or Okano. Because I knew if he jumped, you would catch him.”  

Terasaka scoffed, but couldn’t deny it. Not with the body curled up in his lap. Itona was just so small – he almost looked delicate. Looking at him next to Terasaka, it was almost impossible to realise they were the same age. And with the way he spoke, acted, lived – Terasaka was amazed they even spent time together. Itona was so full of power, and he was blunt, and whip-smart and… Terasaka had honestly believed that Itona would end up next to Karma, or Isogai, or Nagisa or one of the many of incredible people in their class.   

But instead he stood next to Terasaka.   

“You seem to have an answer for everything,” grunted Terasaka.  
“Not everything,” replied Duke. “For example, I do not have the answer as to your feelings about the youngster in your lap.”  
“What feelings?”  
“Protection perhaps? Caring? Amazement? Maybe even Lo—”  
“Shut it kettle.”  
“Alright,” chuckled Duke. “But… whatever comes next, promise me one thing.”  
“And what would that be?”  
“Look after this class, alright?”  
“What?”  
“Oh… nothing,” murmured Duke, staring off into the falling snowflakes.  

***   

“That was… certainly something. Is this normal in your class?” Ren asked.  
“Well… if I had a 5-yen coin for every time a student in this class had tentacles, I’d have ten yen – which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird it happened twice.”  
“Fuwa!”  

Ren sat, practically moulded into Gakushuu’s side. The pair sat at the end of one of the sofas, with Fuwa, Hara and Yada around them, all chatting amicably. Beside Gakushuu was Karma – but he was in a different conversation bubble, made of Nagisa, Nakamura, Kanzaki and Sugino.   

“Um… give me a moment,” Gakushuu said, standing up. He grabbed Karma by the elbow, and the pair slipped out the side door. Standing out in the cold was Hazama, leaning against the wall.   

“What are you two thinking about?”  
“Not much,” sighed Gakushuu.  
“Red eyes,” Karma butted in. The two held a furious staring contest for a moment.  

“I’ve seen them too,” Hazama said. The pair turned to gape at her. “Heck, I’ve been possessed by them.”  
“Poss… Possessed?”  
“Yeah – earlier today, in the tunnel. I saw Duke, and then there were red eyes everywhere, and my voice was changing, and I felt this stabbing pain in… I can’t even say. It didn’t feel like me, but like some other thing.”  
“Thing?”  
“It felt metal.”  
“It possessed you – and you felt pain in a not-part of you. So, like… could it have been from the spectre?” asked Karma.  

A blast of a foreign whistle filled the air, hauntingly shrill.  
“We’ll talk later – away from the mountain,” Hazama said. “For now, stay close to others. Especially Duke – he knows something.”  

The three slipped back in the door, not noticing the blood-red eyes staring at them from in the woods. The eyes blinked, then slowly retreated into the white gloom of the snow.   

***   

Another figure watched from high on the mountain, overlooking the classroom. He was dressed all in white, with a single glowing red eye. Beside him, a person in a skin-tight suit, their face also covered, grunted.  
“We should attack now – they are weakened.”  
“Wait. Be patient, 2.0. She failed to impress, the old engine knew too soon. He is now the biggest threat to this operation going smoothly.” 
“He also betrayed us all. Siding with the creature.”  
“Duke knows what he is doing – and worse yet, he knows who we are. We will have to wait for when he is gone.”  
“And when will he ever be gone?! That stupid engine is always on this bloody mountain – his tracks run everywhere. We crossed them to get here.”  
“You are becoming more talkative again – are you getting used to the pain?”  
“Yes.”  

The two stood there, still watching.   

“You know, once I hated the octopus with everything I had. He took it all from me – made me seem like a fool. But now, now we both know just how far the idiot has fallen. He cares far too much, it is the worst weakness. The government is paying me to kill him. Me! I created all of this – I created him, I am the cause of this situation.”  
“Don’t you dare downplay the Reaper. He will have your head.”  
“You wound me 2.0. Of course I would not dream of downplaying the Reaper – only, I ran the experiments. I hold a potential antidote in my mind. One that only one other could even dream of.”  

The man in white glared down at the class.  
“The worry is the other sits right there. He toys with me. He wants me to know I can do nothing, doesn’t he? He isn’t even troubled by my existence! He is so smug, I hate him! I hate him more than I hate that creature! He rejected me! He rejected ME!”  

A pair of red eyes watched in silence as the two continued their surveillance of the class.   

***   

Korosensei stepped out of the classroom after a long, silent half-an-hour. The students all dashed over.  
“Will Kayano be alright?!”  
“Is she going to survive?!”  
“Why did she have tentacles?”  
“What did you do to her?” Duke blasted his whistle, silencing the myriad of questions.  

“One at a time. The most important question is how is Kayano.”  
“She will be okay. We managed to get to them in time – another week and they would have fused to the nerve system fully, and then she would have been in an even worse state. That’s almost impossible to come back from.”  
“So…”  
“She will need time to recover – possibly six weeks, maybe more.”  
“She’ll miss finals,” Nagisa said quietly.  
“Is that really so important?”  
“They are next week,” Nagisa said. “And we all wanted to be able to grade well. We studied hard for this!”  
“You did,” said Korosensei quietly. “And I do not want to ruin your chances now. I will tell you about my past once the exams are over. In the meantime, we need to work extra hard to prepare you all.”  

Korosensei sped away, and a van appeared over the crest of the hill.  
“They will take Kayano to a special government hospital so we can track her recovery. The rest of today will be free-study – I will be going with them to ensure Kayano gets proper care,” Karasuma said.  

A pair of health-workers in Hazmat suits entered the building, and exited a moment later with Kayano on a stretcher. She weakly raised a hand, and the class swarmed over.   

“I am… sorry,” she murmured – and then she was in the van, heading to the hospital.   

The next few days were filled with studying. None of the students even had a moment to rest as Korosensei, Duke and Bitch-Sensei put them through their paces, throwing every question in the book at them. Karma gave his presentation come Friday – talking about how Maria Theresa gave birth to many children including one Marie Antionette – and how the family politics of the Habsburg Empire led to both the Seven Years’ War and the French Revolution.   

Bitch-Sensei handed everyone a copy of Pride and Prejudice , Korosensei handed out homework packets as thick as books and Duke explained the same concepts over and over. Ren was beside Gakushuu throughout the entire thing, the two bouncing off one another to study. And every time they touched, they blushed – not that the other ever noticed.   

“Esters are formed by the condensation reaction between an alcohol and a carboxylic acid. This is known as esterification,” he said to Hara. “In a condensation reaction, two molecules join and produce a larger molecule whilst eliminating a small molecule.” 
“Oh! I see! Thanks, Granpuff.”  

Keeping the students distracted with studying worked. They were so busy they couldn’t think about Kayano, or Korosensei or assassination at all. Even Karma looked hard-pressed at moments!   

“This is pretty damn effective for studying,” whispered Ren to Gakushuu as Korosensei clones zipped about the classroom. “I’m going to ace the Maths exam.”  
“We will climb to the top of the rankings once more – and then spit at father’s offer to return,” grinned Gakushuu. Korosensei stopped dead, his beaming smile lighting up the classroom.  
“That is correct Asano! Sticking to your choices and choosing your path is more important than grades!”  

Gakushuu rolled his eyes, barely managing not to blush.   

Exams were a blur. And then they were over.   

Chapter Text

“This last exam period has been one of the toughest in this school’s history. From the beginning, it was designed to weed out the intelligent, the geniuses – and this class proved itself from the first moment. You rose to the occasion, you all did your absolute best. And when the marks are posted, no matter what your marks are, or your position on the school’s ranking, you should be proud of yourselves. You should be proud of your effort, you should be proud of your achievement. But most importantly, you should all be proud of how much you have grown. I know I don’t say this often enough – but I am proud of you all. Congratulations on finishing your second exam period children, I knew you could do it.”  

The children beamed at Duke. Then, Korosensei led them into the school to hand out the results.   

Once again, E-Class had dominated. Gakushuu and Karma had managed to tie for first – both were only two marks off perfection. Nakamura came first in English, Okuda had gotten full marks in Science, Ren had retaken the top position in Japanese Literature and Itona had proven himself in maths. It was an incredible victory for E-Class – all of them were in the top fifty. Every. Last. One. 
“And with this success comes the letter from the Principal,” grinned Korosensei. He pulled out a sheet of paper from behind the results, and held it up to read.  

“Congratulations to the students of Class E for achieving results within the top fifty. Due to these exceptional results, all students that achieved top fifty positions are formally invited to join the main campus.”  
“That’s it?” huffed Mimura. “Really?”  
“I think it took everything out of him just to write those two sentences!” laughed Karma.  
“He is probably crawling with fury,” grinned Gakushuu. “He’ll be itching to hit something now.” Down at the main campus, Principal Asano flung a chair across his office, his composure shattered for but a few moments.  

After class had ended, the students all gathered in the den, with Duke keeping them warm as they waited for Korosensei. He appeared, walking towards them slowly, carefully. As though he was worried he would scare them with just a word.  

Karasuma walked over, Kayano in his arms. She was gently sat down beside Okuda, and then Korosensei began.  
“Some years ago, there existed an island just off the coast of Japan – one technically owned by the Japanese Government, but claimed by several other powers. The five nations that claimed the island fought desperately for it – and left behind slums. A third-world city surrounded by first-world weaponry. It was into that world that the world’s most deadly assassin…”  
“For his time,” Duke interjected. Korosensei glared.   
“For his time, was born. The Reaper.”  

Korosensei began his story, following his birth and his rise to power to the day it all ended abruptly.  
“My student betrayed me. He’d… he’d created the perfect disguise – he’d peeled his own skin off so he could put on whatever face he wanted.”  
“I warned you,” snapped Duke darkly. “I warned you several times.”  
“Yes… you did. I awoke strapped to a table by a scientist named—”  
“Yanagisawa Kōtarō.” Korosensei stopped to gape at Duke.  
“Yes. How did you—”  
“I met him in ’94. He came looking to become an assassin – but through science. He wished to gain unimaginable power by harnessing antimatter. The same year, a conference was held on Sodor concerning the potential discovery of antimatter. The biggest names in particle physics such as Owen Chamberlain, Bruce Cork, Antonino Zichichi, Walter Oelert and Mario Macri were there. Yanagisawa attended the conference, and put forward his own suggestion for the production of antimatter: to attach it to the life cycle. To trick human cells into being antimatter cells that shielded themselves from regular matter using the same properties human cells protected themselves. I turned him away, sickened by his suggestion.”  

“And what was that?”  
“To experiment on humans. In particular, he wished to capture the Reaper of the era. He failed in that regard – a warning sent the Reaper of the time deep underground. They were fine, however...”  
“The next Reaper’s own student overthrew him and handed him over,” finished Korosensei.  

He told his story, then paused.  
“That was when I met Yukimura Aguri.”  
“Which would be Yukimura Akari’s elder sister – and correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t Yukimura Akari the famous method actress? One who vanished the day the moon exploded?” Duke said, a smirk on his old face. 
“Yes, she is,” came a voice. Everyone turned to Kayano. “I am Yukimura Akari, and it was those experiments that killed my sister.”  

The story only got sadder as Korosensei continued. The pain, the torture. The ugly red veins that popped up randomly. The vomited blood. The pain. The torture. Yukimura. Her kindness, her unwavering kindness, even as her fiancé abused her. Even as Korosensei stunned Yanagisawa and spoke to her, once even begging her to leave and never return. And yet she always did – and they were drawn to one another, even as the antimatter began to affect Korosensei’s body. As they began to mutate him, to rubberise him. He became stronger, even more flexible – and was restrained further while the scientists were in the room. But Yukimura was granted no such protection, yet Korosensei never attacked her. The bonded over teaching, and then…   

“We first touched three hours before the moon exploded. In an abandoned laboratory on the moon, a rat that had been tested on twitched, then grew exponentially. It experienced a discharge of antimatter energy, one where cell division exceeded natural limits. And it exploded – and took out 70% of the moon with it. Fearing such an outcome would happen to a human, they ran the calculations. March 13 th – roughly a year from then – was the day they figured such an event would happen to a human. They planned to stop the Reaper’s heart – but instead he attempted to escape…”   

Korosensei trailed off, before finishing the tragic story – recounting the escape, the measures taken against him – Yukimura’s death. Kayano leaned into Okuda, hiding her sobs in the chemist’s shirt.   

When Korosensei finished, there was a long silence.   

“How did you know… Granpuff?” Kayano whispered. 
“Your name – this isn’t an American comic Yukimura Akari, not many people have alliterated names. It was the first hint – the second was your ‘bloodlust’. I have lived for many years; I can tell when someone wants revenge. I only wish I hadn’t let it get this bad.”  
“You stopped the growth before it could fuse to her nerves,” Korosensei said. “You prevented far worse.” Duke didn’t reply, a distant look in his eyes.  

“I think, you should all head home for your holidays – bar Nagisa. Nagisa, you should probably stay with Karma and Gakushuu. Thank you, that will be all. Happy holidays to you all, I will see you on January six.”   

Duke set off into the night, leaving the students behind.   

***   

Nagisa walked despondently down the silent urban street. Despite what Duke had suggested, he was heading home. His mother would kill him otherwise… and that was hopefully only a joke. A shadow seemed to stalk Nagisa – not that the teen noticed. He was too busy preparing to meet his mother. The air had chilled considerably, forcing Nagisa to let down his hair to warm the back of his neck.   

His mother would like that.   

He pulled out his key and inserted it into the lock, turning it slowly – silently. The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, something Nagisa took care of himself. The house was almost completely dark. Nagisa held his breath. The shape of a woman sat in the dark, sitting on the couch. A light flicked on.  
“G… good evening, mum.”  
“Where have you been?” The room got colder. Nagisa shivered. That voice, the fury laced within it.  
“I stayed back to do some extra studying,” Nagisa replied, doing his best to keep his voice level.  
“You stayed out past dark. A pretty young girl shouldn’t do that, Nagi-chan.” The shape shifted, launching out of the couch and into the light. “You could get attacked.”  

“I… yes mother.” Darkness flooded the room, emanating from one source: Nagisa’s mother.  
“No!” screeched Shiota Hiromi, grabbing Nagisa by his hair. Nagisa could smell the alcohol on her breath. A single, large bottle lay on its side on the coffee table. “No ‘yes mother’! You need to change! You need to be reminded that I am your mother – and you owe me everything!” She flung Nagisa into the couch, and grabbed the bottle. It smashed against Nagisa’s chest, shattering into shards that pierced into Nagisa. The blue-haired teen barely contained a scream. “You aren’t developing, you won’t leave that filthy End Class and you aren’t finding a husband. What kind of stupid girl are you! You’re supposed to become a part of Hishimaru and be everything your father and I couldn’t be!”  

She went to grab Nagisa again, only for a gunshot to silence her. Karma and Gakushuu slammed through the window, ripping Hiromi off her son. Karma held a smoking gun in his hand, and had it aimed at Shiota Hiromi.  
“We’re leaving,” Karma snarled. “Nagisa, grab your things.” Gakushuu went with Nagisa, they packed a suitcase with Nagisa’s clothes and most prized possessions – and then they left.  

***  

Duke let off steam, sighing. He hoped the police would arrive at the address he’d sent them soon. He took a deep breath, and continue his journey out beyond the rail lines the students knew of, then to the edge of what Korosensei knew of. Here, at the very base of the mountain, at the far edge to the school, stood an old rickety shed. Duke entered it, and waited patiently as the doors swung shut behind him.  

Then, the floor groaned beneath him, and the platform sunk into the ground.   

It sunk deep into the earth, and then a glimmer of light emerged. Duke rolled forwards, stopping the platform in line with a long, narrow tunnel. Small vents were built into the tunnel roof, pulling smoke up towards the surface. But down here, Duke was utterly alone.   

“Some things,” he said to himself as he began puffing down the tunnel. “Some things are better left alone.”   

Chapter Text

Nagisa sat, numb. Karma’s couch was insanely comfortable – but it felt like a thousand needles pricking at the skin. His meagre suitcase of possessions still stood untouched in the entranceway. Karma had wandered off to cook, while Gakushuu snapped something into a phone upstairs. He hadn't wanted to show this side of his life to his friends ever. And now they knew. It was hard keeping track of where the two teens were, his head was a bit fuzzy. 

“Hey, we need to get the glass out of you.” Oh, and Ren was beside him, holding a container and a pair of tweezers. A first aid kit sat on the coffee table in front of them. “Let me take off your shirt… oh, shit.”   

Nagisa’s torso was a constellation of bruises, a star-system of marred skin. But no scars. Never would there be scars. No, Hiromi was too clever to leave scars. Scars ruined the porcelain perfection of Nagisa’s skin. Every hair plucked out, every blemish forced into submission by a beauty regime. This was the first time she had let anything pierce Nagisa's skin. It was... frightening. 

Ren slowly extracted the glass he could find, then sighed.  
“We might need an actual medic. There’s a lot of glass.”  
“Damnit. Nagisa, I… what the fuck – that’s… I’m going to kill that woman!” Karma dropped the pan filled with potato hash on the dining table and dashed over, falling to his knees in front of Nagisa. He trailed a shaking hand along the constellation of bruises that framed his ribs. “Oh Nagisa, why didn’t you tell me?” Karma went to hug Nagisa, but stopped at the last moment, instead hugging Nagisa’s legs gently. “What else has that witch done?” The blue-haired boy looked over in confusion. Witch?... oh, his mother. 

“My ankle hurts where she kicked me…” admitted Nagisa quietly. “But I don’t want to go to court about this…”  
“The police have already arrested her,” Gakushuu announced, walking down the stairs with his phone in hand. “All they want is a doctor to check you over and a policeman to record your injuries. Someone’s already greased over the whole process.” No points for guessing who.  

The entire process was a blur. Nagisa was in the hospital, having glass gingerly removed. Then there was a doctor, putting his ankle in a brace and bandaging his ribs while a policeman jotted down notes and asked a couple simple questions. Then there was Karma, holding his hand while the police left.  
“Who will I end up with?” mused Nagisa. “My dad’s been declared unable due to mum, and I have no other relatives…”  

The answer came as a surprise to them all.  
“You will be staying with… the Norramby family,” a policewoman explained just before Nagisa was released. The four all gaped at her, not quite sure what they had heard.
“The… Norramby family?”  
“Yes. Mr Norramby himself called, and paid to adopt you. I must say, you’re extremely lucky someone decided to adopt you so quickly. He has asked that you head home with these two, and he will pick you up in the morning.” 

“We’re heading to see Duke, aren’t we?” said Karma as soon as they left the hospital. A quick google search had revealed that the Norramby family was - of course - the family name of the Dukes of Sodor. 
“Duh.”  
“Just what level of influence does that bloody engine have?” Ren said his goodbyes at this point, needing to head home to update his father. He had the feeling he would need permission to spend a lot more time at Karma's house. The other three went off to go find the old engine. 

However, when the three got to the school grounds, the old engine was nowhere to be found. The mountain was practically deserted – even Korosensei had slipped off to enjoy some Australian sunshine.  
“Where’d he go?” asked Gakushuu. The three were stood in front of an ancient gardener’s shed at the base of the mountain far from the school. There was a rail line here, but it was old, rusted and overgrown. How it existed, none of them knew. 
“We’d be there if I knew,” grunted Karma. Nagisa rolled his eyes. The two had forced him into a wheelchair – for his ‘fractured ribs, twisted ankle, multitude of bruises and severe cuts’ – not that that had stopped him before. But when Karma stared at the wounds with such pain in his eyes, Nagisa couldn't help but stay in place, just to keep that look off the redhead's face. 

They decided to head back to Karma’s house – that had been the instruction given to them after all. A letter had been slipped under the door.  
“Sorry, but Sir Robert did not adopt Nagisa – I did. Duke. Can he live with you two for now?” Karma read.  
“Er…”  
“I’m not letting him go back to his mother,” Gakushuu said, pushing the wheelchair into the house. "Not that he can anyway." 
“Yeah, I guess Nagisa’s living with us now. Cool.”  
“I… huh?” 

The two went about moving Nagisa and his stuff to a room up next to their respective rooms, placing him next to Karma and opposite Gakushuu.  
“Welcome to your new home,” chirped Karma.  

It was… nice.   

The walls were a pleasant, warm cream colour, there was a shaggy carpet floor and wooden lining, shelving and desk. The bed was a double, with a silly floral print.  
“Here, we’ll help you unpack,” offered Gakushuu. Karma nodded, and unzipped the suitcase, pulling out the clothes inside it.  

“You… don’t have very much,” Karma said slowly.  
“My mum wanted me to be a girl… so I only have a few men’s clothes.” Karma went silent, his eyes going wide.  
“Do you mean…”  
“She likes to dress me up in women’s clothing, yes.”  

Karma walked out of the room, and they heard the thump of someone punching the wall.   

***   

“Thailand or Morocco?”  
“Men’s work doesn’t suit you.”  
“Oh! In that case…” 
“Comic relief, duh!” 
“If only you could have stayed like that…”  
“If you’re going to cut it off, Nagisa, sooner is better.”  
“I like teasing him.” 
 
 

Karma had fucked up. The class has fucked up. 

What had they done to Nagisa?   

***   

Karma dove into cooking dinner, putting together a full meal and going through the motions to make mochi.  
“Why didn’t he tell us?” murmured Karma. “Why?”  
“Because,” a familiar voice said, a slim hand landing on Karma’s arm, “I was afraid. And as much as I hated the teasing, it was nice to be a part of the class. And at least you guys didn’t keep mis-gendering me.”  
“But…”  
“Don’t Karma, I’m not really in the mood,” Nagisa said. Karma nodded, dropping the strawberries he’d been cutting on the counter. He turned, and grabbed Nagisa in a hug, careful to avoid the bandages criss-crossing his chest under his shirt. Nagisa looked almost like a mummy – and not in a fun way.  

“Please forgive me,” murmured Karma, resting his head on Nagisa’s shoulder.  
“I already did,” promised Nagisa. “I was always just happy to be your friend.”  

Karma blushed faintly, feeling his heart speed up. It was incredible, how beautiful, elegant, soft – kind Nagisa was. How he managed to warm everything with his smile, and how his forgiveness felt like the rain after a long drought. How he felt, warm and safe in Karma's arms. He didn't need protecting - Karma knew that all too well - but he still wanted to. Nagisa deserved someone who would protect him, stand there with him, for him. And his blue hair looked so cute in the twinkling kitchen light, practically sparkling. And Karma could feel the tightly-corded muscle Nagisa had gained during training - oh wow. 

Huh, so Duke was right – he did have a thing for Nagisa. Stupid wise old engine.  

Smiling gently, Karma pushed Nagisa to the dining table and laid out dinner. Gakushuu joined them a moment later. They ate the food Karma had made, chatting about nothing in particular.  
“So… are we going to plan…”  
“No. Not after what we found out,” Nagisa said quietly.  

An awkward silence descended on the table.   

“Say… did either of you think it was odd Duke didn’t step into Korosensei’s experimentation?” asked Gakushuu. Both Karma and Nagisa turned to shoot Gakushuu confused looks. “No, think about it. He managed to get involved in my life, Nagisa’s life, he masterminded the discovery of Kayano’s tentacles, not to mention the thing with the Indian Defence Minister that he knew was going to happen.”  
“That… doesn’t make sense,” agreed Nagisa.  
“Do we care?” asked Karma. “He’s here, he’s doing his thing – what can we do?”  
“Figure out his long-term plan for one,” Gakushuu said. “It feels like everyone is keeping secrets now – what next?”  
“Itona and Terasaka dating?” suggested Karma. The three burst out laughing. 

“Oh dear… with how clueless those two are – it’s unlikely,” sniggered Nagisa. “I swear, I’m going to just lock them in a cupboard one day.”  
“You should!” grinned Gakushuu. “See if that knocks any sense into them.”  
“If it doesn’t, I’ll literally knock some sense into them.”  
“No violence Karma!” yelped Nagisa. He went to get out of the wheelchair, only for both Karma and Gakushuu to push him back in.  
“No getting out until you are healed.”  

Nagisa pouted, and Gakushuu pushed him out to the loungeroom so the three could watch a movie.   

Once again, Karma advocated some weird foreign film – and to Gakushuu’s horror, Nagisa agreed. The opening credits began with a song – oh great a musical of all things – and then pandemonium descended on screen.   

Gakushuu decided he wanted to try and sum up the movie to tell Ren – and his summary went something like this:   

“Okay, so this girl is getting married, and she invites her friends and then they sing her mother’s diary ?! All the while, these three men are going to this port – and the reason is because the mum went down on them all. It was the eighties, I guess? Anyway, so the men miss the boat, and end up together on a private boat, while two old women look at a fish , find their friend who is the mum whose diary her daughter was singing and get ready for the wedding by singing about not having enough money and then the men arrive and are shown to a barn by the girl where the mother then finds them and sings about it before falling through the roof and kicking them all out and then calling herself a slut and apparently this movie is PG ?! Anyway—”   

“Gakushuu, breathe! Are you… are you trying to describe Mamma Mia to me?”  
“You’ve seen it too!”  
“It was pretty popular Gakushuu. It’s the ABBA musical.”  
“Who?”  

Ren groaned.   

“Have you been living under a rock? You cannot be telling me you don’t know pop culture from the Seventies.”  
“Why would it be relevant to my schoolwork...?”  

And so, Ren came around and forced Gakushuu to listen to an ABBA album before dragging him off to go see the Star Wars movies (No it was not a date). A gleeful Karma came along to laugh at Gakushuu, and Nagisa followed partly because he had to (they wouldn’t let him out of the wheelchair!) and partly because Star Wars 4, 5 and 6 were epic movies.  

Somehow, Nagisa got used to living with Karma and Gakushuu. The pair were both insufferable and incredible in equal measure: the pranks when they got bad were enough to send Nagisa into hiding at Ren’s, while the meals were the best he’d eaten and the patience they all showed while he recovered was so refreshing compared to the disdain his mother had had. They treated him... like Nagisa, nothing more, nothing less.  

Nagisa hadn’t felt so light in years.  

He watched, trying his best not to laugh, as Karma pelted Gakushuu with snow, a cackling Ren leaning against the eldritch creature passing as a snowman as he watched. Karma had definitely snuck sneezing powder into his snowballs – each time one hit, Gakushuu would burst into a fit of sneezes.  

The Winter Holidays were fun, free and utterly devoid of any thoughts about assassination. The number of plans drawn up over the holidays was exactly zero, and just as many people talked about killing Korosensei. Rather, there were more people than ever talking about just how horrible his life had been to him.   

But… did Korosensei deserve a chance to live, after being such a cruel assassin?   

Chapter Text

The class gathered silently in a small clearing made outside the schoolhouse. Nagisa was fresh out of his wheelchair, waiting patiently for Kataoka to speak. Silver rails reflected the sun into Chiba’s eyes. 
“You called us all here, what’s going on?” asked Kayano.  
“I think… we should try to save Korosensei.”  

Terasaka scowled, Nakamura frowned; Nagisa beamed.  

“I think you’re right,” said the blue-haired boy, stepping forward away from Karma.  
“Yeah,” said Sugino. “He’s done so much for us, it’s only right we repay him.”  
“Is it?” asked Gakushuu. “He blatantly admitted to horrible things. What happens when he’s safe? What if…”  
“What if he goes right back to assassinations?” Nakamura finished. “We’d be first on his hit-list – and we’d be no match for a genuine Reaper.”  
“I think there is good in Korosensei,” said Itona, startling several of the others. “You all gave me a chance even after I attacked you… and I think we should do the same for Korosensei.”  
“There’s a difference between a misguided teen being manipulated by a mad scientist and a fully-capable, deadly assassin,” Maehara said slowly.  
“He’s right,” Terasaka said. “Korosensei’s always banging on about us killing him – we need to do it.”  
“He has changed us all for the better,” Isogai shot back. “He helped me find a stable part-time job to feed my family, and he modified Ritsu to give her autonomy against her developers!”  
“He tries his best each and every day for us all – and I want to keep looking for creepy-crawlies with Korosensei!” Kurahashi said.  

“I think,” started a new voice, “that you are all missing one key element.” The class spun round to look at Karma.  
“And what would that be?” asked Kayano.  
“What about Duke? The old engine’s scary-crafty, and anything we do will be directly affected by him. That’s without mentioning the fact we have no clue how to even start trying to save Korosensei! It’s futile.”  
“Karma…”  
“But… he made school fun. He gave us all direction, he gave us a purpose. A purpose to assassinate him. That seems so clear – and yet, he also taught us to take destiny into our hands. This entire scenario is insane!”  

There were murmurs of agreement, and slowly two sides began to form. On one: Kataoka, Isogai, Nagisa and the part of the class that wanted to look into saving Korosensei, and on the other: Terasaka, Nakamura, Maehara and the part of the class that believed assassinating Korosensei was the only option.   

And in the middle stood the part of the class that were undecided.   

“Korosensei was a major part of my sister’s death,” said Kayano, standing beside Nakamura.  
“Korosensei brought me out of my shell,” Okuda said, standing beside Nagisa.  
“Korosensei showed me that I could be more than my father’s legacy.” Muramatsu.  
“Korosensei want us to kill him.” Hara.  

The class splintered into two – and words began to fly.  
“You are all great assassins!” snapped Yoshida. “What about those of us who’ve had to try to get here? You want us to save him because you don’t care about how hard it was for the rest of us!”  
“We have the chance to save our teacher from dying – why won’t you understand the importance of that?!”  

A whistle blasted through the argument, silencing both sides.   

“Enough!” roared Duke, storming into the clearing. “It is clear none of you understand the first rule of being an assassin: do not involve emotions. And none of you seem to have gotten the most important part of any of this year! Assassination is a horrible business. Death is the most brutal, gruesome, painful of truths – and yet you want to inflict it on another when there is the option to instead heal, save, help?! Quite simply, I am appalled.”  
“You have no right saying that, Informant,” snapped Yada. “You’ve been involved in more deaths than we can fathom!”  
“And you think it doesn’t weigh on my mind every waking night? You think I don’t hear screams when I sleep? I got into this business to save people’s lives.”  

Duke went pale, and suddenly reversed backwards. He vanished into the trees.   

“He has a point,” said Kayano quietly.  
“I hate it, but he does,” agreed Terasaka. The pair walked over to stand beside Nagisa and Itona.  
“Korosensei helped me escape my father,” Gakushuu added, walking over beside Ren.  

“We… we can think about it for today,” suggested Nakamura. “Let’s not talk about this until tomorrow, and if anyone has evidence that can prove either argument, then we’ll discuss. In the meantime…” 
“...We go about today as usual, trying to assassinate Korosensei,” finished Kataoka. The class nodded slowly, agreeing with both. It seemed the most logical solution – and that was what Duke was advocating, wasn’t it?  

“What I want to know, is what Duke meant by save people’s lives ?” wondered Fuwa. The entire class turned to stare at her in shock.   

“We thought you’d know!”  
“It’s difficult – a good chunk of records from Duke’s early life are missing, and those that do remain are incomplete. All historical records written from 1900 onwards generally use Duke as a source too,” said Takebayashi. “It means…”  
“Duke could fudge records to hide events,” finished Kanzaki.  

With that thought looming over them, the group headed to their first class.   

***   

“This semester, we will be studying the Age of Revolution, beginning with the Agricultural and Industrial Revolution, and ending in the…” Duke peered at the letter that had been sent to him detailing the topic for the term’s history in barely concealed horror. “The… Sudrian Revolt of 1889.”  
“The... what?” asked Karma slowly.  
“The Sudrian Revolt of 1889, considered the last event of the Age of Revolutions and an isolated event in comparison to many of the other revolutions, revolts and rebellions. I do not know why we are teaching this; it is one of the least-well documented events in Modern History.”  

“Weren’t you… around then?” asked Sugaya slowly. Duke went pale.  
“We will begin with the Agricultural Revolution. As part of it, the rest of this lesson will be spent with Karasuma talking about the part of Turnips in the crop cycle.”  

With that, Duke steamed out of the class, leaving the teens behind.   

“Save people’s lives… we might have just found our justification for Duke’s actions,” said Karma. The class turned to stare at him.  
“Explain,” said Terasaka bluntly.  
“Think about it – hard for you, I know – Duke’s line opened in 1879.”  
“Can confirm,” said Fuwa.  
“He was, what – ten when the revolt broke out? He then says it’s very badly documented. Why? He got rid of them. Something happened to scar him, and it started him off as an informant. I’ll also bet he met the Reaper of the time during the Sudrian Revolt. I also happen to know, because I learnt Sudric from him, ‘that his line ran into the heart of Sodor, and was far more traditional than all of the other railways on Sodor.’ He said himself: ‘the valley he worked in was divided between the English and the Sudrians. The Sudrians at the time were staunchly defensive of their home – and the English were stubbornly sure of their superiority. It led to… hard times for many of them. A good example would be on the railway, when they had to lock the doors between Arlesdale and Ulfstead Road. Natives soon accepted this door drill as a matter of course, but visitors to the Island often complained at “being imprisoned without trial”. The English wanted the tunnels widened so the carriages were not locked – and the locals couldn’t pay for it. Some honestly thought all foreigners, particularly English and Manx, were probably not quite right in the head.’ Hard times, a revolt when he was on Sodor in the area: he must have been there!”  

“That’s…”  
“Horrible.”  
“No wonder he hated us fighting about killing Korosensei. He’s probably seen a lot of death.”  
“It does still leave one question,” said Nakamura. The class turned to her.  
“What is it?”  
“Why become an assassin’s informant? Isn’t that counterproductive?” There was a long, awkward silence, and then the ring of the bell sent them scrambling for their books.   

The class filed out of the den and over to Karasuma, who taught them about crop rotation and had them farm a small patch for turnips, explaining how they helped replenish nutrient-deficient soil and provide food at the same time.   

Then, the class went to Bitch-Sensei.  
“Hey Bitch-Sensei!” grinned Ren. Gakushuu gaped at his best friend in shock.  
“She’s our teacher!” he exclaimed. Ren grabbed Gakushuu’s hand and twirled him into a dip, laughing brightly.  
“And? When in Rome, do as Class 3E does!” 
“That’s not even the saying! And let me up!” Both blushed as they realised their position - and then shrugged it off as normal behaviour, even as the rest of the class silently screamed. 

Bitch-Sensei taught them English, Korosensei taught maths, science and classical Japanese – and then it was PE again.  
“The days just fly by,” grinned Ren, strapping on his PE gear.  
“I guess they do,” agreed Gakushuu. “But… I think we’re heading for some big event. It feels like there’s secrets that aren’t out yet… and when they're revealed, it’ll shift everything.”  
“I think…” began Ren, watching the smoke rise in the distance, then spotting Karma hovering over Nagisa and Itona sitting silently beside Terasaka, then Kayano glaring at Karma and Korosensei surveying them all from the roof before finally turning back to Gakushuu. “I think… you are right.”  

Chapter Text

Nagisa shifted, bending down to pick up the envelope sitting on the doorstep of Karma’s house. He picked it up, noticing with surprise that it was addressed to all three of them: Gakushuu, Karma and himself.   

“What the— wait… who sent this ?!”   

***   

“Well, we’re back to decide Korosensei’s fate. What’ve you got?” Nakamura said.  
“A letter,” replied Karma, startling everyone.  
“What’s that got to do with anything?!”  
“It’s from the Director-General of CERN.”  
“What?!”  

Karma read out the letter, which explained the creation of antimatter, how it was stored, and how it was destroyed – and then came the paragraph that changed their future.   

“I have recently been informed of an Antimatter creature that you wish to revert back to normal matter without causing his destruction and death. This problem has been of the utmost priority of CERN since the creature revealed itself, and we believe that it can be done.”   

“They… they think it can be done?”  
“They talk about ‘biologically splicing antimatter out of Korosensei’s cells and using both a Penning trap and an atomic trap to remove the antimatter before depositing it in a container, where it will destroy itself safely’.”  

“However, such a process requires hours and may lead to excruciating pain for the creature – without mentioning the potential risk. An experiment into mitigating these risks is currently taking place on the International Space Station, however…”  

“It seems we’re going to need to hack the International Space Station,” Karma finished, a smirk widening across his face.  
“I’ll concede – this is proof we can save Korosensei – but it is based off half of a hypothetical and a potentially deadly procedure that would need us to do what exactly to splice the antimatter?”  
“We’d need to stop the cells from splitting, inject matter without causing a reaction – possibly by using his own cells against him – and then swap the cells, letting the normal ones’ regenerate and removing the antimatter. Like cancer treatment almost,” Okuda chirped, looking far too excited about getting to see the process for anyone’s liking.  
“We’re going to treat Korosensei for cancer,” deadpanned Nakamura.  
“Er… yes.”  
“Wait, there’s another line here!”  

“If required, we will be able to journey to Japan to aid in the surgery, as our Informant had directed in his communication.”   

…   

…   

…   

“So, Duke was involved in this too, eh?” groaned Okajima.  
“Was that a surprise?” chuckled Ren. “That engine’s got a wheel in every pie, I swear.”  

“Um…” Kayano said, stopping the conversations that had cropped up. “Anyone else notice something odd?”  
“No.”  
“This is a handwritten letter. Those need time to travel from Switzerland to Japan. It can’t be done in a day unless Korosensei were to fly it.”  
“Huh?”  
“Duke had to tell the CERN scientists what he wanted, they had to figure out a viable response, and then write and send the letter. And from what Nagisa told us – this letter did not go through the post system.”  
“There was no stamp,” Nagisa agreed. “Wait…”  
“Duke’s been planning this for weeks,” groaned Gakushuu, coming to the same conclusion as Kayano.  

The class all groaned. Of course.   

“Well, at least we have an option now,” said Nagisa slowly. “And it’s an option that the world’s leading scientists suggested.”  
“I’ll concede – it’s some pretty damn good evidence,” huffed Terasaka.  

And so, the class prepared to save Korosensei.   

***   

“Korosensei! We have something to tell you!” called Ritsu, flicking on her screen as the rest of the class burst into the room. Korosensei leapt to his tentacles, dropping the Desserts magazine he had been reading. A picture of a cake in the shape of a woman’s bust fell to the floor for all the class to see.  
“Nice!” grinned Okajima.  
“Nagisa, why did we agree to this again?” groaned Nakamura.  
“I don’t know. Please, shoot him,” sighed Nagisa, pinching the bridge of his nose.  

The class opened fire, Anti-Korosensei BBs rattling through the room. Korosensei barely managed to dodge them all – snagging his magazine and fleeing onto the roof.   

“We have class in five – please let me back in,” he said petulantly from the roof.  
“Fine,” groaned the students.  

Korosensei slid back into the room and began writing up the lesson plan on the chalkboard.  
“Actually Korosensei, we had something we wanted to tell you,” said Nagisa, holding the letter in his hand. Korosensei turned around, and Nagisa read the letter to him.  

“Korosensei, we want to try and save you by reverting you.”  
“It is our new goal!” cheered Kurahashi, leaping to her feet.  
“We want to choose our own path!” grinned Kataoka.  

The class burst to their feet, cheering. Well – the more enthusiastic in the class did. Ren just shrugged and stood up.  
“I don’t know much about this class, but I can tell you mean a lot to everyone.”  
“Sakakibara-kun!” exclaimed Korosensei in joy, crocodile tears flowing from his eyes. He zipped over to hug Ren – who tried to duck under the table and was caught.  

“It’s a shame,” sighed Terasaka. “I wanted to try planting a grenade trap in his desk draw.”  
“Ah well, if this fails, we can try killing him again,” promised Karma with a sadistic smirk. Korosensei made a weird panicked sound at the face, and began spouting prayers to the CERN gods.  

The class quietened down and began their day, but an undercurrent of electricity had been jolted in them, and it pulsed and beat through the class, sharpening their minds and their weapons of learning.   

Even if Korosensei had been physically weakening – the octopus couldn’t even lift Duke’s tender anymore – he could still fly at Mach 20, and his heart was beating as strong as ever… if not ever-so-slightly faster.   

***   

“You orchestrated this, didn’t you?”  
“Of course. I… I couldn’t save you last time, and I hate seeing friends die.”  
“I heard about the History course, are you okay?”  
“I will be meeting with the Principal about it later.”  
“That’s good. We really… can you believe… maybe this time it will go right.”  
“It has to. I’m not doing this ever again.”  
“Granpuff… will you ever tell me what happened? Who the original Reaper was?”  
“I hope to god I never have to.”  
“Then will you tell me what these red eyes are? My students are seeing them, and it’s worrying them.” The ‘and me’ was not said. “Hazama says she was possessed.”
“That story is not mine to tell… not yet,” sighed Duke. He and Korosensei stared off into the sunset, sat side-by-side at the very edge of a cliff overlooking the city. The gentle chirping of crickets filled the air – winter was already receding.  

“Still, to hear my students were so moved to help me—” Korosensei exclaimed, tears welling up in his beady eyes.  
“Before you turn on the waterworks, I will warn you that you will never be able to work as an assassin again. I will not allow it. You will be presented with your options, do not stress. You— you will never see the inside of another cell…”  
“If I walk on the right side of the law,” finished Korosensei.  
“Unfortunately. I am considering finally exiting the game myself. This class… it has taught me a lot about humanity, and about assassination.”  
“Why, Granpuff, I cannot believe my ears! You? Admit to learning from me and the students?!”  
“The students and I, Ryushi. Don’t think you’ve bested me yet.”  
“Fu-Fu-Fu, old engine. One day.”  
“Perhaps,” chuckled Duke, a twinkle appearing in his old eyes. “But you will take the deal, right?”  
“I love this form, I do – I’m free to do whatever I like whenever I like – and it makes teaching so easy… but I would give it up, if I had the option. To make things right... If I could give this up, and regain my true freedom, the freedom my students have, I would. I will. I can’t thank you enough Granpuff – you’ve made an old octopus very happy.” 

 Duke chuckled, and his old eyes twinkled as the pair dozed in the evening sun.   

***   

“I realise I haven’t told a proper story from my old railway in a while. Tell me, what do you lot remember?”  
“You saved Falcon!”  
“You tricked Stuart!”  
“Number Two got turned into a generator and drowned!”  

When Ren didn’t look stunned at these revelations, Gakushuu turned to him.  
“Did Granpuff tell you these stories?”  
“Yep. They’re quite common over there. I can tell you a couple of them if you’d like.”  
“I read the book myself… but if you have any other stories that would be nice.”  
“It’s a date then!”  
“What?”  
“Nothing.”  

“Good, very good,” chuckled Duke. “Now, I believe it is time to tell the next story. Does anyone remember what I said happened when my railway closed?”   

“People came to buy the engines. ‘We’ll take Stuart and Falcon’ – no one wanted Duke, they thought you too old,” Hazama said. “Your driver and fireman oiled and greased you one last time, they sheeted you snugly, and said goodbye. They had to go away and find work. ‘Duke’ was alone. ‘Where is his Grace?’ you wondered. ‘It’s not like him to forget me.’ But his Grace had been killed in the war, and the new Duke was a boy who’d never heard of his engine. ‘Oh well,’ sighed Duke - you. ‘I’ll go to sleep, it’ll help pass the time…”    

“Outside the shed, the whole world changed. Winter torrents washed soil down from the hills; trees and bushes grew all around. You wouldn’t have known a shed was there, let alone an engine asleep inside,” Duke finished. “It is not a pleasant memory.”  
“You decided to just… fall asleep?”  
“Yes. I told you all this on my… second, maybe third day here?”  
“Okay – let’s be honest. So much has happened since then it’s hard to remember much from those early days,” huffed Karma.  
“Terasaka almost fell to his death,” Duke hummed, agreeing with Karma.  
“He what?!” yelped Itona, grabbing Terasaka and clinging to him like a koala.  

Duke sighed. Nagisa sighed. The entire class internally groaned as Terasaka didn’t get the hint and just kiss the boy already!  

“Anyway, I suppose the question is – how did I end up here if I was buried? Well, the answer begins with the then Duke of Sodor, a celebration and a choice statement from an engine named Duck…”   

But that, is another chapter.   

Chapter Text

“Anyway, I suppose the question is – how did I end up here if I was buried? Well, the answer begins with the then Duke of Sodor, a celebration and a choice statement from an engine named Duck…”  
“What kind of a name is Duck?” butted in Karma. “Did you mistranslate or something?”  
“Let me check – I did say Duck, right?” said Duke, switching to English to stress the name.  
“You did – but what kind of name is Duck?!”  
“Ah. Well, his real name is Montague, but everyone calls him Duck because they say he waddles, and he much prefers Duck, which I sort of understand.”  
“We don’t!” yowled half the class.  

Duke happily ignored them, and went on with his story.   

***   

Skarloey and Rheneas were celebrating 100 years in service. The two Very Old Engines had recounted their history to a crowd, after Nancy the cleaner told Skarloey that he was a ‘Crosspatch’. The two had a connection, I swear.  
“Author – no. The story please.”  
‘Fuwa, you shouldn’t even be able to interject here! How— you know what, no. My story, my rules.’  

After hearing their story, the Thin Controller decided to celebrate the 100-year milestone – which just so happened to be the same day that he wanted to open the new loop line around the lake. A very special guest was to come and help open the line, but when Peter Sam told Duck, he was in for a nasty shock…   

***   

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Who is Peter Sam? I thought this story would be about Stuart or Falcon or something.”  
“It is,” replied Duke. “When they were bought by the Skarloey Railway, Stuart and Falcon were given new names and liveries.”  
“They had their names changed?!”  
“It’s normal.”  

And once again, Duke was met by horrified blank stares.   

“This isn’t even that weird by human standards! Assassins, politicians, actresses, people in witness protection and transgender people all change their names!”  
“But…”  
“Norma Jeane Baker didn’t choose to change her name.”  
“Who?”  
“Marilyn Monroe. Her real name was Norma Jeane Baker, but they changed it when she entered show business.”  
“Well – it’s still weird to just have your names changed randomly. What kind of name is Peter Sam anyway?!”  
“Peter Sam was the name of the Thin Controller at the time. The engine's name was Stuart before, and then the railway renamed him to Peter Sam. Falcon was renamed in honour of the owner of the line, Sir Handel Brown.”  
“His name is Handel Brown?!”  
“No, his name is Sir Handel,” Fuwa retorted for Duke, smirking at the general mayhem Duke’s story was already creating.   

“This shit gets weirder every day,” grumbled Terasaka.  
“This is weird? Not the assassin-turned-octopus or the assassination classroom or the fact CERN scientists wrote to you, but some engines having their names changed. That should be the least weird thing out of the lot!”  
“Duke – can we go over the weird things you’ve said that you think are ‘normal’, which include: life-imprisonment, opening someone’s face, traumatising children and engines, almost falling off a cliff, drowning, murder, mass-murder, being buried alive, a steam locomotive mob boss and government-mandated genocide which – seeing as I’ve read the books because of this shit – caused something of a race war?!” Gakushuu said incredulously.  
“Most of that has happened to humans.”  
“And the people who did that were criminals! How are these books for children?! This engine got bricked in a tunnel for not wanting to be in the rain!” Gakushuu exclaimed, grabbing out a copy of the Three Railway Engines that he just happened to have on him.  
“He got let out again – and I’m amazed the Controller didn’t just scrap him for his disobedience. That was kind!”  
“This is my point!” yowled Gakushuu.  

“May I continue my story, or are we going to argue over the specifics of railway culture some more.”  
“I know where this is going, I've read this story – and yes, we are going to argue some more.”  
“Why?” asked Nagisa innocently.  
“Because Duck tells Peter Sam all Dukes have been scrapped! And that was because they were – or rebuilt?”  
“Ah, that can either be painless or excruciating. Depends on the engine.”  
“I beg your pardon?!”  
“Henry got lucky, the Fat Controller paid to have him unconscious during the process. The Duke class was not so lucky. They were rebuilt when the GWR was feeling the effects of the Great Depression, so they were more often than not awake during the process. It led to many choosing to leave.”  
“To what?”  

“We are getting off-track.”  
“No, no – you haven’t really explained why there are no young non-faceless vehicles – or many female ones for that matter,” Kataoka interrupted.  
“It’s… not pleasant. It all began with sexism.” 
“Of course it did,” groaned Yada.  
“In the 1800’s, the railways were seen as men’s work. When the first female engine was built, it sparked two major fears: that engines could gain rights as sentient creatures, and that it could empower women. As such, the engine was scrapped the day after it was built. This was common practice until World War One, and many female engines born in this era chose to ‘leave’ before they could be cut up. This was done through a process called ‘the flushing’ - which I suppose is a reference to flushing out the soul? Human terms for engine processes are rarely accurate, but that is beside the point. Basically, when an engine chose to ‘leave’, they would wait until they had no fire in their firebox; and would then drain all water from their boiler and ‘vanish’. Their face would ‘leave’, and their smokebox door would get a large crack from top to bottom. If they did not ‘return’ after twelve-hours, then it was permanent.”  

“That’s…”  
“Horrible.”  
“And it gets worse. Standard practice was to fix the smokebox door before running the engine – a simple job all things considered. This was partially because a crack smokebox door causes issues with the fire, but mostly because such a sight for an engine is the equivalent of seeing a corpse being forced to work.  

“But during the First World War, there was no time or material… and the engines on the front lines were leaving in droves – from the trauma: shell-shock and all that. Drivers would open shed doors to find knee-deep water from engines who left in the night. And with no time to fix them, they would run the engines with cracked-smokebox doors – which were seen by other engines and spurred further ‘leavings’. By the end of the First World War, there was only fifteen non-faceless vehicles in France, and only slightly more in Germany. Otherwise, the population of non-faceless vehicles in Europe had all but been wiped out. And once that happens, no one returns. Britain maintained a huge population however – until World War Two. Many of the ones that were sent around the world left, and those that remained began to get scrapped. The bombings killed further engines, and then the closures began. The same could be said for road, air and sea non-faceless vehicles – only ships were doomed from the start and air vehicles often would leave as soon as they went airborne. Planes didn’t live very long – there were only ever five documented actually, and they all left as soon as they went into the sky. Helicopters were more successful – until Vietnam. War kills thousands – and the same is true in our world.”   

“But…”  
“As parts of the world underwent war, revolts and modernisation, it wiped out the remaining non-faceless vehicles. Today, it’s really just a British thing, with a couple still around in Australia and I think four or five in Kenya…”  
“No, the Kenyan engines are gone too,” Karasuma interjected, “the company got rid of them for being too expensive.”  
“Ah, a classic cover. There were two who were the last two other informants in operation. I suppose that makes me the last one. How ironic.” 
“Ironic?” 
“I was the first vehicle Informant for the first Reaper, and now I am the last non-human informant for any assassin. A career from the 1870’s to now – not half bad.”  
“Wait – the first Reaper was from the 1870’s?”  
“A little later – I met him before he became the Reaper and advised him on other matters.”  
“Which ties in nicely to our classwork on the Sudrian Revolt, right?” pushed Karma.  
“Am I telling this story about me being discovered or not?” grumbled Duke. “All I’ve managed to do is be depressing and fill up half my lesson with exposition and trauma.”  
“Well then use the other half to teach us about something that’s going to be on the test!”  

Duke stared at the faces all around him, took a deep breath, and spoke.   

“Alright, fine. The Sudrian Revolt began in 1889 and lasted until 1890. More than three hundred were killed in the violence, which broke out after a period when the British passed new, oppressive laws to try and outlaw Sudric as a culture, by banning traditional clothing, language and names. Similar laws had been passed in the past against the Irish, Scots and Welsh, however the Sudrian people had been left alone after the Treaty of 1572, which granted Sodor the right to its culture. This Treaty was nullified, and they began by renaming major towns. Cas-ny-Hawin was named Edstown-on-Arle, named for the English mayor of the town – Edmund Pilboth – and the river running through it. Ballamoddey, Arlesdale and several of the other ancient towns and villages along the line suffered similar fates, with one British lord even trying to get Peel Godred renamed. Sir John Norramby, the recently reinstated Earl of Sodor, successfully stopped this attempt, however was almost stripped of his lands and title.” Duke sighed. His old eyes had lost their twinkle, and he looked sad, gloomy.   

“I remember arriving at a station one morning to see a woman being forced out of her house, for having worn a traditional Sudrian dress. The true revolt, however, began over a signpost. It displayed the name of the oldest street in the valley, which was named after Sigrid of Arlesdale, a hero of the Sudrian people. The local mayor wanted it to be taken down and replaced with a new name: Edward Parade, after the Prince of Wales. The insult was too great to bear, and when people came to take down the sign, they found a mass of locals blocking their way. The protest turned ugly, and soon a full-scale uprising was happening across the valley.”   

The bell rang, and Duke sighed in relief as the students hurried away to their next class.  
“I remember that – I laughed at that woman.”  
“You did. And I warned you then too.”  
“Yes, yes you did.” 

“Who are you talking to Granpuff?”  
“No one!” called Duke, letting off steam. Nakamura wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw a pair of red eyes and a pool of inky blood beside Duke.  

Chapter Text

“After that info-dump garbage-fire of a chapter, the author needed to move along with the damn plot.”  
‘Fuwa, I swear to all the saints I will have you eaten by a rabid hamster.’  
“I’d like to see you try. I’m the only way you get to say anything in this story, rather than just following the characters.”  
‘I hate it when you are right, and anyway – I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand! The class wanted an explanation, so I gave it.’  

Fuwa shrugged, and let the author get on with it.   

***  

That evening, Duke went down to the main campus, whistling over and over until finally the Principal shoved his way through the undergrowth to meet him.   

“What do you think you are doing, howling away like that?” hissed the Principal.  
“You added the Sudrian Revolt to the curriculum on purpose, didn’t you?” Duke snapped back, his old eyes dark and stormy.  
“I should think you would be happy about the change. You are the expert, aren’t you?” The Principal’s self-satisfied sneer spoke volumes about what the man was not saying. Duke’s hissing safety valve replied with equal animosity.  
“I was deeply traumatised by the revolt and then spent forty years working with the people of Sodor to cover up the revolt and play it down to save the tourism industry.”  
“Wait… what?” The Principal stared at Duke with narrowed eyes, shock wearing into suspicion. “Are you telling me…”  
“Every book written about the Sudrian Revolt is falsified, often by me personally. People asked me, as a surviving source, to testify, and by agreement of the Sudrian people, the truth was suppressed. For example, the official number given for fatalities is three hundred, forty-five.”  
“Yeah, every source agrees on it; it was well-documented.” The Principal pulled out a thin book on the Sudrian Revolt, as though it would give weight to his argument.  
“Check the source,” Duke said. “I gave that figure – and it is the number of deaths in Ballamoddey, not Sodor. The actual figure is roughly four-thousand five-hundred, four-hundred of which were British Soldiers sent to suppress the revolt, all killed in one action.”  
“That’s not in any record, book or testimony,” Principal Asano accused, flicking through the index. Sure enough, Duke’s name stared back at him from the page.  
“Because it was rewritten as the ‘Arlesdale Incident’ – when TNT was used by extremists to blow up part of the railway. Check the date – it happened one day before the revolt ended. And the truth is, the event didn’t just blow-up track – it took out a full train. I watched it happen.”  
“Well, then you will teach the truth,” the Principal said. Duke’s cold eyes narrowed, and steam began to hiss from his old valves. Small flakes of rust-red metal flittered through the air, seeming to come from nowhere.    
“I will teach what is written in the history books – with the proper revisions made.”  
“Then you will write the test.”  
“With cooperation from other staff, I shall,” Duke replied crossly. “I am the expert after all.” Silently, Duke gave the Principal a point – the crafty man had managed to force Duke into agreeing to teach the Sudrian Revolt by getting him all riled up. Clever.  

With that, Duke steamed away, leaving the Principal in a cloud of soot and smoke.   

The weather continued to change, and the class began to put their plan into action.   

‘Chemotherapy’ for Korosensei began on a frigid January morning not a week later. The weather had gone from snowy to frosty, with huge patches of ice blanketing the ground. Duke had trouble getting traction on the icy rails, and Terasaka had to shovel salt onto the rails in front of the old engine so the class could get up the mountain to school.   

“We need sand,” grumbled Duke. The class happily agreed – after Duke explained how sand helped engines.   

They arrived to meet the three CERN Scientists Duke had asked to meet them. The head Scientist stepped forward.  
“We shall run a test today on the creature’s left arm. If it fails, we will be able to amputate the appendage before it causes an explosion,” they said in a slightly broken Japanese.   
“Sounds good,” Karasuma said calmly. “And his name is ‘Korosensei’; please refer to him as such.”  

The laboratory equipment was set up in a fancy tent-facility on the oval, and Korosensei stepped inside, waving goodbye to his students. Okuda, Takebayashi and Kurahashi – being the best Scientists the class had – followed them in, while the rest of the class watched through a screen Ritsu had set up.   

“We’ll start with the blood transfusion,” the head Scientist said. The arm was isolated, and blood was carefully added. They waited with bated breath – but the arm did not react. Slowly, they began to pull out the antimatter cells, starting at the ‘bones’ which had become rubber under the influence of the antimatter. Korosensei grit his teeth, his other tentacles coiled tightly around him.   

“I hate you Duke,” hissed Korosensei. “I hate you so much.” Duke didn’t respond – he just kept a critical eye on the procedure.  
“Try injecting bone marrow into the bones,” he eventually said. “You did bring some with the blood specification I gave?”  
“Yes Granpuff,” sighed the head Scientist. He then looked at something on his clipboard. “Okay… that’s actually a good idea.”  
“I thought so.”  

After the first ten minutes, Karasuma and Irina herded the rest of the class away for their first lesson – but Duke remained. He watched as Korosensei’s left hand slowly lost its bright yellow colour, turning a dim shade of tan. It still extended and flexed, but it had regained all fingers, and even the fingernails! The cells were doing the scientists’ jobs for them almost, regenerating at a frightening rate and pushing out the antimatter in the hand.  

“I would say this is a very successful first treatment,” the head Scientist said. “To keep the rest of the body from rejecting the hand, we’ll keep it tied off – until we get to the point where we can safely begin releasing regular cells into his torso.”  
“Wonderful,” Duke said. They helped Korosensei to his… tentacles and supported him as he limped out of the tent. His left arm still had a metal ‘collar’ holding the two different cell types apart, but otherwise his treatment for the day was over.  

“Granpuff…”  
“Yes Korosensei?”  
“If I don’t survive this, I am haunting you to your grave.”  
“You’ll be around a while then,” chuckled Duke. “Besides – today was a success! And we didn’t even need to go to space for it!”  

In the background, Itona pouted – he’d actually been rather excited about heading to space.   

Korosensei smiled softly.  
“I’m happy to see my students trying so hard to help me. Kurahashi, Okuda and Takebayashi have all studied very hard to be able to help perform such a surgery, and all my students choosing to help me over assassinating me— It’s almost as if they are taking our lessons on board.”  
“Our lessons? My lessons, thank you. You kept on encouraging them to go ‘for the tentacle’.” Korosensei laughed, and the two headed off to teach the next lesson.  

***   

“We will need to wait a week before continuing with the surgery.”  
“What? Why?” demanded Duke.  
“The wait will get shorter – but it’s needed to ensure the normal cells take to Mr. Korosensei. Otherwise, his body could reject them, causing the cycle to speed up and him to explode.”  

Duke scowled.  
“We needed to start this treatment months ago, didn’t we?” he said.  
“We didn’t have the research available then,” the head Scientist rebutted. Duke groaned.  
“Thank you, Doctor. Is there any way we can speed up the process?”  
“A blood transfusion that couldn’t be rejected would be incredible— but it is highly illegal, not to mention the fact the research is incomplete—”  
“If we need to, we will do it,” Duke said firmly.  

He puffed away, leaving the scientists in silence.   

The air was cool, and the wind was icy – but Duke soldiered on as far from the school as possible. He headed deep into the forest, a faint trail of smoke the only clue as to where he was.   

He passed along a narrow ledge, stopping only momentarily to watch as the main school buzzed like the hive of activity it was.   

“January is going by too fast,” he sighed. “What comes next?”   

***   

The week passed uneventfully – though it took Korosensei some time to get used to having five fingers on his left hand again. Duke spent the week teaching the Age of Revolutions, avoiding the Sudrian Revolt as best as he could. Bitch-Sensei got teased for trying to be a serious teacher and teach an actual English novel… because she had originally wanted to teach Fifty Shades of Grey . It took Karasuma, Duke and Korosensei to stop that train wreck. The novel they ended up teaching was 1984 – which had the unintended consequence of making the students even more critical of the school than they already were!   

“We should stage a revolution,” Karma joked one afternoon, after reading the last page of the novel. “After all: In the end, the party would announce that two and two made five, and you would have to believe it. It was inevitable that they should make that claim sooner or later: the logic of their position demanded it. Not merely the validity of experience, but the very existence of external reality, was tacitly denied by their philosophy. The heresy of heresies was common sense. And what was terrifying was not that they would kill you for thinking otherwise, but that they might be right. For, after all, how do we know that two and two make four? Or that the force of gravity works? Or that the past is unchangeable? If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable—what then?”   

“Now you’re just quoting the book,” huffed Nagisa.  
“No, no – he’s got a point. Exchange party for ‘Principal Asano’, and that’s basically this school,” Gakushuu said. The class gaped at him. “What? I hate my father. A lot.”  
“Not why we’re shocked, but good to know,” Nagisa managed to say.  

“Our awkward little duckling is learning to be a normal human,” sobbed Korosensei. “It makes me want to eat three whole bowls of rice!”  

Indeed, the class was coming together. Even with the tense few days where they had fought over Korosensei’s future, the class had grown closer than ever before. It was obvious in the way they moved during training, the way they naturally covered each other’s weaknesses and planned their attacks around one another in a way army units struggled with. It extended beyond training against Karasuma too. They worked together to plan Korosensei’s surgery, to rebuild one of the trestle bridges on Duke’s line, to help a kindergarten they had once destroyed (Duke had not been pleased about that) and even to put on a dramatic play.   

“I still think they should have done Shakespeare,” grumbled Bitch-Sensei.  
“They chose, they performed, they enjoyed,” Duke countered. Irina rolled her eyes, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. The two were sitting in ‘the den’ between the lessons, taking advantage of the silence while the students… did backflips with Karasuma or something.  

“Yeah, maybe – but imagine them doing Romeo and Juliet!”  
“Romeo and Juliet is not that brilliant. Juliet is thirteen in the play. And Romeo is nearer to eighteen,” Duke huffed. The retort came naturally by this point - he’d spent enough years listening to Peter Sam waxing lyrical about love and quoting the play. 
“It’s still a classic.”  
“I preferred King Lear, or Macbeth. Far better plot-wise.”  
“Each to their own.”  
“I suppose. On an unrelated topic – why did Lovro never send you to me?”  

Irina had the decency to look embarrassed.  
“I… that would be my fault. Lovro suggested I head ‘to neutral’ to meet you, and then I went to Paris instead. Don’t sue me, fashion is important in my line of work!” Duke rolled his eyes.  
“What may have been just as important is stamina training, intelligence gathering and historical knowledge. I trained assassins for decades before anyone else even joined the game. Sodor is ‘neutral ground’ for a reason.”  
“Yeah… I know. I still got to learn from you though.” She gestured to where they were sitting, the shed and the sheets of theory littered about the hoards the students used as desks.  

Duke chuckled, the two staring out onto the oval where the students were practicing their knifework.   

“One day I’ll have to start issuing certificates,” Duke said.  
“Half of the assassination world would want one.”  

Duke stared off into the distance.  
“Perhaps…”  

Chapter Text

The second ‘surgery’ on Korosensei went just as well as the last one – and only needed a school week downtime. Korosensei stared at his weirdly human left arm, comparing it to the rest of him.  
“It’s basically two shades too dark, but otherwise just like my old arm…”  
“That’s because we’re working on converting the antimatter cells back into normal cells in laboratory conditions and then reinjecting those so your body is less likely to reject the cells.”  
“Oh… wow. Sometimes I forget there are people smarter than me.”  

The Scientists, students and other teachers all deadpanned at Korosensei.   

“You are quite literally racing through multiple scientific papers right now,” Duke said.  
“Hey! I want to be able to keep my teaching degree after this.”  
“Korosensei, you don’t even have a teaching degree. None of us do.”  
“And yet somehow you’re better teachers than most of the staff here,” muttered Sugaya.  

And if that wasn’t a slightly scary truth.   

The second surgery had formed the hand of the left arm into a normal human hand, and while the arm still stretched and flailed like a tentacle, the bone was properly hardening.  
“The good news is that knowledge from the left arm will make the other arm and legs far easier and faster. Kurahashi here realised that we could use the arteries to inject larger amounts of blood in while using the veins to drain more antimatter.”  

“But that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to the organs, does it?” sighed Duke.  
“No… it doesn’t. That’ll be the hardest bit. We will have to do the outer appendages first, and then go very carefully. The head will have to be last, unless we want to shut down his brain and kill him.”  

Even with that grim warning, the solidly human hand Korosensei sported was a major breakthrough. The students stared at it in wonderment throughout the lesson, watching as Korosensei went to use it, only to flex it in amazement, and curl his fingers into a fist, then unclench them.   

“It is nice to see him so happy,” Duke murmured.   

The week flashed by, and work began on Korosensei’s right arm. January was hurtling towards its end, and Korosensei had one completely normal arm, and a normal hand and wrist on his other arm.  
“The skin colour’s even the same!” Korosensei chirped in amazement, as he turned his left arm over and over. Everything from just below the shoulder joint was completely normal. And while the shoulder joint was still rubbery tentacle, it only meant that he could stretch out his arm from the shoulder, not change how the arm itself acted.  

It made Korosensei very clumsy.   

“That’s the third time this week!” yowled Karasuma, stalking out of the teacher’s lounge with milkshake staining his suit. Korosensei came bursting out behind him, looking very apologetic and frantic.  
“I’m so sorry! I just turned around and forgot my arm didn’t bend like it used too!”   
“Third. Time.”  

The students could barely withhold their laughter – until Chemistry.   

“Sensei! That beaker is hot!”  
“Agh!”  
“And that’s full of hydrochloric acid!”  
“Why are we working with dangerous chemicals with a klutz like me?!”  

They kept Korosensei at the front of the class after that – before he got hydrochloric acid or something worse on his newly-repaired arm and needed a skin graft.   

The next surgery only needed four days – and this time, Korosensei walked out of it with two almost-completely rebuilt arms.  
“Doctors and Scientists are so cool! They do good work to help people,” Okuda said.  
“They do!” agreed Korosensei happily. “And Scientific Research helps our world continue to advance into the future and create solutions to major problems.”  
“Like smallpox!” piped in Duke chipperly.  
“Duke! Why?!” yowled the class.  

“Because it’s eradicated – not that I was ever worried for myself. Engines have specialised ‘blood’ that is almost completely immune to all diseases. It’s partially because it’s very hard to pierce our skin, and partly because we don’t do things like kiss or touch our mouths – because we have no hands.”  
“So…”  
“Engine-blood is very pure – and illegal to tamper with. It’s the only piece of protective legislature for non-faceless vehicles. No experiment can be done on our faces, nor can blood be drawn or injected into us.”  

“Where does the blood go when you’re scrapped?”  
“No one’s quite sure,” Duke replied easily.  

“Sometimes,” murmured Hayami, “I forget just how messed up our world is.”  
“And then Duke opens his mouth,” finished Chiba.  

Duke chose not to reply to that.   

The week continued apace, and soon it was February.   

***   

“Why are we in Santa Costumes?”  
“February means Christmas, alright!”  
“Duke literally is pulling a sleigh.” Duke glared at the teacher, then back at the gaudy red sleigh crudely strapped to his tender.  
“This is demeaning.”  

Then Korosensei flashed away – and suddenly everyone was dressed in classic ceremonial kimonos. Hara was eating ramen in the corner.  
“Happy New Year!”  
“Why?” grumbled Duke – who was wearing oversized ‘Happy New Year’ glittery glasses.  

“Now… time to laze the day away,” Korosensei said, flopping down under a kotatsu and using his newly reformed elbows to lean on the floor and watch TV on a tiny portable set.   

Duke discreetly had Bitch-Sensei pour a bottle of whiskey into his tank.   

“Where’s he going with this?”  
“He’s trying to cram all the Winter holiday events he missed out on into February,” said Okano.  
“None of you visited me!” wept Korosensei.  
“Tip the vodka in quickly, before he changes holidays again!”  
“Granpuff!”  

Half the class ran to the window to see Bitch-Sensei pour a bottle of vodka into Duke’s water tanks.  
“What are you doing?! Isn’t that dangerous?!”  
“Well, yes – but I normally drain it out rather than use it for steam – it gives a pleasant buzz if you drink enough,” Duke said. “Normally I drink tea – I used to have a personal tea strainer that went over my water hatch so I could get proper tea. I can’t get a good drink anymore.”  

“I knew I forgot something!” exclaimed Korosensei.  
“Do not go grab it now – that would be ridiculous,” grumbled Duke. “Besides – we fabricated that story that I’m back on Sodor, remember?”  
“You did what?” hissed Karasuma. “Why have I not heard of this?” The government agent shot a scathing glare at the old engine, one that made most assassins pee their pants. Duke was unaffected.  
“Oh yes – it was leaked to the press that I was returned in December – the school handed me over, and I’m currently at Crovan’s Gate Works on the Island of Sodor being repaired; and will be until April or May. Hopefully I really will be back on Sodor by then.”  

“Don’t you like working with us?” asked Yada, putting on her best ‘pathetic pouty’ face.  
“I have made some incredible memories with you all, but I miss my youngsters. And I won’t get to give them flowers for Valentines.” Duke sighed, gazing off towards the trees.  
“You give some of the engines flowers on Valentines? I thought you were aromantic asexual?” Karma said.  
“I see Stuart and Falcon as family – and I was taught many, many years ago that Valentine’s Day can mean more than romantic love. We used to exchange flowers every year – it was both a touching gesture and really brightened up our sheds – but then we got split up, and now… now I’m the only one who ever remembers to buy any.” Duke didn’t mention the fact that half the time those flowers ended up forgotten in a bin, but the mournful look on his face said enough.  

Duke released steam and puffed into the woods, escaping the conversation before it could become any more depressing.  

“That’s…” began Kayano 
“Really tragic,” finished Nagisa.  

***   

Valentine’s Day crept up on the class. Korosensei had another couple surgeries, and his ‘leg tentacles’ were slowly vanishing in favour of two proper legs. He was still moving at near Mach 20 – but he was looking more and more human by the day. The students were even helping him relearn how to use his normal arms and legs.   

“The next phase of the surgery will be to remove the leg tentacles that are not returning to him. It is potentially the most painful part of the process so far, and the most dangerous until we work on the organs. These legs will want to remain a part of him, and when removed, they will need to be stored and then ejected into space so they can detonate away from earth. Such an explosion on earth would obliterate all of Japan – so we will need to get rid of them quickly.”  
“Or revert the cells the same way we did the others?”  
“Unfortunately, we cannot. First: that’s a waste of blood and cell matter – and we only have a limited amount for this as it is. Second: it might not work, seeing as these tentacles were formed out of antimatter tissue, rather than being regular tissue, muscle and bone that was corrupted.”  
“In other words – there’s no saving those things.”  
“That would be correct.”  

There were thirty-two days until the deadline – and on Valentine’s Day, they would be cutting off Korosensei’s leg-tentacles and flinging them into space.   

***  

Valentine’s Day began with the students heading to class. Duke pulled the train as usual, noting with a wry smile that the frost seemed to have finally vanished, with the very first blossoms budding on the trees.  
“It ought to be a healthy season, seeing as we removed all the ripe fruit last year – giving the trees a chance to really grow back now.”  

There were a couple notable exceptions to Duke’s morning train though: Ren, Karma and Itona had all managed to somehow miss the morning train. While by this point all of Class 3-E was adept at running through the woods, they still favoured the convenience (and easiness) of the train.  

Duke puffed through the trees, enjoying the fresh scent of flowers, and hearing the first bees of the season buzz overhead.  
“It’s nice to see Spring once more,” murmured the old engine. A bird flapped down to land on his buffer-beam. Duke couldn’t help but smile. A couple flakes of rust were left trailing along the track.  

Duke pulled up at the school and Yoshida hopped down from his footplate, placing Duke’s shovel on his tender.  
“How about oil-burning?” he suggested, wiping soot from his brow. “You wouldn’t need a fireman.”  
“It might be worth looking into. Coal isn’t that cheap anymore,” Duke agreed.  

The old engine shunted the coach into the shed, and Muramatsu unhooked it. Duke then puffed over to where the tent was set up, to watch the proceedings.   

The first two classes of the day had been cancelled in favour of the class watching the surgery. A special rocket had been built, and was waiting in the centre of the oval.  
“Can’t I at least get my students to France or something first?” asked Korosensei.  
“No time,” Duke said sternly. “Go get your leg tentacles chopped off.”  
“Why?”  
“Because you will dawdle on purpose and then force us to postpone it. We do not have the time for this – go get your leg tentacles chopped off.”  
“So mean,” sobbed Korosensei, attempting to use crocodile tears. Duke was steadfast – and soon Korosensei was in his tent. Karasuma sidled over to Duke, intent on asking several questions on how the old engine was able to control Korosensei’s usual brand of insanity.  

The process of removing Korosensei’s leg-tentacles was deceptively simple. Each tentacle was placed inside a special cylinder that would keep the antimatter stable for up to seven hours – enough time to remove all the tentacles and fling them into the atmosphere – and then an anti-Korosensei scalpel would cut off the offending tentacle, and a scientist would close the cylinder up. This cylinder was wheeled out to the awaiting rocket and carefully placed inside. Each cylinder only held one tentacle, and each tentacle kept trying to regrow, only being halted by an anti-Korosensei bandage that needed to be hastily wrapped around the stump where the tentacle had once been.  

It took a long time. The students only stood waiting for the first few minutes, then moved into the shed to sit about in the warmth that Karasuma provided with a pair of outdoor stoves. Only Duke remained, watching without saying a word. The minutes ticked by; the weather grew warmer.   

After a half an hour, Duke called it.   

“Alright students, pack it up and head home. There are homework packets tailored to your needs on Korosensei’s desk with your names on them. Pick them up, then I’ll take you down. There’s no point to you wasting your day watching this.”   

They grabbed their homework, hopped on Duke’s train, and headed down the mountain. Duke dropped them off, and they filtered silently out into the streets. Terasaka had grabbed Itona’s homework packet, Nagisa had Karma’s, and Gakushuu had Ren’s.  

Duke headed back up.  

As the scientists worked on the third tentacle, the one keeping an eye on the pressure supplied to the cylinders by an electric pump gasped.  
“The pressure’s dropping! Something’s wrong.” Karasuma sprinted away, while the head scientist rattled off orders. Duke just glared at the cylinder as though the power of his eyes could get it to work properly again.  

“It’s the power grid,” Karasuma explained, striding back out with his phone in hand. “The surgery is overloading the system.”  
“We need a second power supply. Fast,” the head scientist said. “We stop now, and that tentacle’s going to go.”  

Duke looked all around, then smiled.  
“I can be a generator,” he said. “Just connect...”  
“Your wheels to a roller, using them to generate electricity!” finished one of the scientists. They grabbed a sheet of paper and began scribbling out calculations, before slapping the sheet down with an exclamation of triumph.  

Karasuma grabbed supplies while the scientists prepared some of the electrical circuits to be powered by Duke. Irina – despite her complaints – helped stoke Duke’s fire.  

They built the rollers just ahead of Duke, and he steamed onto them gingerly, coming to a stop right in the centre. He began to puff again, finding that instead of moving forwards, his wheels instead spun in place, turning the smaller rollers and sending electricity down the various wires and into the tent. Karasuma took up position as Duke’s fireman, shovelling lumps of coal into the firebox while a thick tube piped water into Duke’s tanks continuously.  

“It works!” cheered one of the scientists. With as many of the apparatuses as possible powered by Duke, the surgery continued. Each tentacle removed and placed in the rocket was a success in its own right, and as Duke watched silently, the last of the tentacles were carefully removed and placed in the rocket. One of the scientists pressed a button, and the rocket blasted off, zooming up towards the heavens. Destination: the massive emptiness of space between the Moon and Mars.   

“From now on, it may be better if we work at night,” Duke said as the Scientists filed out. “Korosensei can be asleep for part of it, we will disrupt less of the electricity grid and school will not be interrupted.” The old engine hadn’t been pushed off the rollers yet, and he felt very awkward, still puffing forwards but unable to move.  
“We can sleep through the day I suppose,” sighed the head Scientist. They brightened suddenly as one of the other CERN scientists handed them an iPad. “The data we are getting from this is incredible! We could find the cure for cancer in this – like, a legitimate cure!”  
“Well, I suppose that’s one good thing,” murmured Duke. He looked up to the clouds. “Now, let’s see if our lovebirds have as much luck?”  

Chapter Text

Nagisa stepped into the street to see Karma waiting. The redhead had a beaming smile on his face.  
“Hey Nagisa! I heard class is over – let’s go do something!”  
“Like?”  
“I’ve got plans,” smirked Karma. Nagisa gulped internally – Karma’s ‘plans’ rarely ended well for anyone but Karma. See the poor assassin who still couldn’t sneeze without screaming.  

“Uh… sure,” said Nagisa, instantly on guard. When it came to Karma, there were only two things he wanted with Nagisa when it came to ‘plans’: turning him into a girl or dangling him over the side of a building. Sometimes both.   

And yet – Karma didn’t immediately veer towards the bad part of town. Instead, he headed straight back to their house.   

“I’ve left an outfit on your bed,” he said. Nagisa nodded slowly, and ascended the stairs. He could already see the frills. They would probably be lace, and too short and… was that a pair of pants?    

It was! It was a pair of normal pants, a normal boy’s plain white shirt and a button-up short sleeve to go over the top – with matching belt and shoes! And a normal jacket!  
“This is weird…” murmured Nagisa slowly, putting on the clothes. He retied his hair into a low ponytail, then headed down. Karma saw him, and had to keep himself from getting a nosebleed.  
“Wow… you look great!” he said. Nagisa smiled.  
“Really?”  
“Yeah! Now come on!” Karma grabbed Nagisa’s hand and they headed off to the train station. Nagisa blushed – Karma’s hand was surprisingly warm entwined with his own. And slightly clammy. Was Karma nervous?  

They got on the train – which felt weird. It had no cheery old steam engine grinning at them, but instead windows and doors and cushioned seats. Somehow, it felt more clinical, like all the enjoyment of riding on the train was sucked out of it by the train being so... mechanical. It was nothing like what the pair had become used to.   

It was also a lot faster than the train they were used to – and soon they were in one of the nicest parts of the city. They got off, and walked down a busy shopping street. Bright balloons and stuffed bears stretched out as far as the eye could see, with red roses and glittering jewellery all being sold.  
“Oh right! It’s Valentine’s Day!” exclaimed Nagisa. “I completely forgot.” Karma squeezed Nagisa’s hand slightly.  
“Well… I didn’t,” he muttered.  

Karma led Nagisa to a small, intimate restaurant just off the main street, nestled in a snug alleyway filled with the smell of perfume and flowers.  
“Booking for Akabane,” Karma said to the waiter at the entrance. The waiter nodded, and the pair were led to a small nook near the rear of the restaurant, where they could talk privately.  

“Wow Karma, this is amazing!” gasped Nagisa. Karma smiled.  
“You are,” he said quietly. Nagisa only just heard him, and turned as red as Karma’s hair.  

They ordered – Nagisa deciding not to comment on the fact his menu had no prices on it because Karma seemed not to care. Maybe it meant all the meals were the same price?   

The food was divine. Nagisa had the most incredible steak, cooked to perfection on a bed of rice that had been seasoned to bring out the flavour of the meat and the pan-fried seasonal vegetables. Karma had a grilled fillet of salmon with a Thai Noodle Salad drizzled in a Peanut Sauce.   

Karma paid the bill, not even cringing at the number handed to him in the black chequebook. He simply placed his card in the book, and nodded to the waiter.   

Conversation flowed easily, and Nagisa found himself really enjoying their… outing? No, that didn’t sound right.   

After their delicious lunch, the pair walked along the street, stopping to look in a few of the stores that appealed to them. Nagisa checked out a bookstore, Karma standing beside him and offering… questionable book choices.  
“Was it necessary to suggest Fifty Shades of Grey?!”  
“You sounded hilarious,” huffed Karma – still holding Nagisa’s hand!  

Then, they spotted a barber.   

“Would you like to go in?” asked Karma. Nagisa jumped. He’d been staring at the barber, hadn’t he?  
“Uh…”  
“Come on then – let’s go in!” Karma practically dragged Nagisa into the barbershop. It was surprisingly quiet in contrast to the bustling street outside, and the barber was just finishing up a customer.  
“I’ll be with you in a moment!” he called, trimming the last of the man’s beard. The man checked his reflection in the mirror, paid, thanked the barber, and wandered out.  

It was Nagisa’s turn.  
“I’ve… never had a haircut before,” Nagisa said weakly.  
“Get him a messy short on top and shave the sides down,” suggested Karma, holding up a picture. Nagisa and the barber considered it, then Nagisa nodded happily, and the barber got to work.  

When he was finished, Nagisa looked completely different – and damn hot. He had short, messy locks of blue hair that the barber had dyed a slightly darker shade, styled in an undercut.   

Karma reached out and ran a hand through the locks, feeling how soft they felt in between his fingers.  
“Amazing,” he whispered.  

Before Nagisa could even stand, Karma had already paid the barber.   

“Karma…”  
“Yes Nagisa?”  
“What was this. It… it felt like a date.”  
“Well…” for the first time in Nagisa’s life, Karma looked... nervous. “I… I kind of wanted it to be a date,” admitted Karma quietly, pulled a simple red-heart card out of his jacket and holding it out. “I like you Nagisa. A lot. And I would really like it if you were my Valentine.”  
“Nah,” smirked Nagisa, stepping forward and taking the card from Karma’s hand.  
“Wha—?”  
“I’ll be your boyfriend,” murmured Nagisa, before kissing Karma.  

***   

The moment Karma dragged Nagisa away, Itona appeared with a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates. Terasaka grinned, walking over and sweeping the shorter boy into his arms.  
“You got here before I could,” he chuckled. “Now we’ll have to go buy you something.”  
“Of course I got here first dummy,” said Itona, but he was smiling too. The two shared a kiss – and then heard a scream.  

“YOU WERE DATING THIS ENTIRE TIME?!” yowled Maehara, the rest of the class gaping in shock.  
“Uh… yeah. We’ve been dating since the festival,” Terasaka said. In the background, Hazama could have sworn she heard Duke laughing.  

“Yeah – he’s all mine suckers!” cackled Itona. The entire class ‘sweat-dropped’.  
“Oh great, Terasaka’s rubbing off on him,” groaned Yoshida.  
“Don’t say that!” hissed Muramatsu. “The mental image—”  
“Rubbing off,” Hazama wailed. “Rubbing off!”  

Okajima loudly (and rather obnoxiously) wept for his lack of a partner, and the rest of the class questioned their sanity as Terasaka carried Itona away.   

The pair headed to a quiet park overlooking a sprawling lake, Itona handing Terasaka a spare change of clothes so he wasn’t stuck in his uniform.  
“I have a surprise for you actually,” he said softly.  
“More than pranking the whole class?”  
“Yeah.” Itona stepped behind a tree, and emerged with a basket in his hand.  

“Is that?”  
“I… was hoping you’d like to go on a picnic with me. There’s this really nice spot I found by the water…”  
“Sounds great,” grinned Terasaka, taking the picnic basket from Itona. “Lead on.”  

The pair headed along a gravel path, before turning off and pushing through some thick foliage, only to emerge on a grassy knoll overlooking a large lake. The far side of the lake was dotted with picnic spots – but the one Itona had found was quiet, secluded. Perfect for the pair to set up their chequered picnic blanket and lay down.   

“Did you make all this?” asked Terasaka slyly.  
“I may have made a few things…” admitted Itona, blushing a rosy shade of red. Terasaka grinned, placing his hand on Itona’s cheek.  
“I want to try all of it,” Terasaka whispered huskily. The blush crept across Itona’s face, down his neck and up to his ears. His whole face was practically red.  

Terasaka chuckled, and pulled out the first thing from inside the picnic basket. His eyes went wide.  
“No way! You made—”  
“I did,” said Itona shyly. “I hope it’s good.”  

Terasaka stared down at the pie tin in amazement. To make a genuine lemon meringue pie was no mean feat. He placed it gently down between them, then dove back into the picnic basket.   

There was a small stack of sandwiches, a handmade dip and sliced carrot and celery, caramel slice, and a seafood pâté with accompanying toasted pane-di-casa and a pickled red onion topper.   

The food was divine, and Terasaka insisted on feeding Itona the first bite of the pie, holding up the spoon to his mouth.  
“It’s really good,” murmured Itona. “Thank goodness.”  

It really was. And when the food was eaten, the two sat and talked quietly while watching the world pass by from their little blanket.   

“You were right you know,” mused Itona.  
“Oh?”  
“No one really knows what’s coming next – but being by your side makes it a little easier.”  

Now it was Terasaka’s turn to blush. He reached out, taking Itona’s hand. The pair lay there, staring up at the sky. Clouds wandered by, the sky a little brighter over the pair as they enjoyed the rest of their afternoon.   

***   

Gakushuu made it home before Ren appeared, the famed playboy popping up at the front door to Karma’s house. He was wearing something a model would wear, and holding a box of chocolates.  
“Wanna go catch a movie? I brought your favourite chocolates!”  

Gakushuu blushed. Of course Ren had noticed that he actually only liked one brand of chocolate – and then went and bought a box of them for him.  
“Quick – go change already!” laughed Ren, practically pushing Gakushuu all the way to his room.  

“Do you need help changing?” Ren winked.  
“No I don’t,” huffed Gakushuu, his ears going bright red.  

When he’d changed, he let Ren drag him out the front door and down the street, waving down a taxi and ‘helping’ Gakushuu in. The strawberry blond didn’t really notice the address that Ren gave the driver, instead leaning back and watching as the world slid past, the taxi wandering through the backstreets of the city before joining one of the frantically busy arterial roads that drew people into the bustling city centre.  

The taxi dropped them off at the corner of a busy avenue and a quiet, hidden cobblestone alleyway, dressed up as if it were from a European city, rather than in the heart of a Japanese metropolis.  
“Where are we going?” asked Gakushuu.  
“Just down here,” Ren replied, leading the way down the cobblestone streets. They passed a couple little businesses, then Ren tugged a little on Gakushuu’s hand. “This one.”  

It was a little shop built into the side of a tall skyscraper, with large bay windows and a little glass door with a tinkling bell. They pushed through the door, and instantly Gakushuu could smell the slightly bitter scent of coffee and the calming musk of aged books.  

“Where are we?” Gakushuu spun, taking in the wonder in front of him. It was a bookstore, a library and a café all in one, with long shelves filled with classic tomes and a proper counter off to one side.  
“This is The Bookshelf,” Ren said grandly. He shifted his grip on Gakushuu’s arms, moving to intertwine their fingers as they began to meander down one of the aisles. “It’s really cool! There’s two different sections: the new section over there.” He waved his arm over towards nearer the café. “And then here. This is the second-hand area. Customers bring in old books and take out new ones, with a ¥100 donation.”  
“That’s... epic,” grinned Gakushuu. He took the lead, dragging Ren down the aisles and finding all different books, ranging from ancient classics in every conceivable language to scientific papers to plays with acting notes in the margins. All the while, Gakushuu had the biggest smile on his face, looking the happiest and freest since... ever, really.  

“Hey look!” Gakushuu grabbed out an all-too-familiar book, and held it up with a chuckle. “Do you think Duke would like it?”  
“Maybe,” hummed Ren. “He knows those stories off by heart by now though.” The slightly beaten copy of Duke the Lost Engine gazed back up at them, Duke’s face unblinking.  
“That’s true – but it might help with his Japanese.”  
“Oh true!” laughed Ren. “He needs some help with that... still.”  

After a little while, the pair headed over to the café, ordering a drink each and a muffin to split, taking a seat at one of the clumps of comfortable armchairs littering the open space in front of the café. They sat and talked endlessly, about the books they’d found, about school, finding new topics each time the conversation seemed to lull.  

The world around them faded, leaving just Ren and Gakushuu in their own little bubble, drinks on the table and muffin eaten down to the last crumb.  

“Erm... excuse me sirs, but we’re closing up soon. Are there any books you want to purchase?” Gakushuu jumped, looking up at the clock above the counter. It was already getting late!  
“Yes please,” he said, searching about in his wallet for some money. Before he could hand it over, Ren turned to him, books in hand and a sneaky smirk on his face.  
“I’ve paid,” he said simply.  
“Fine, but I’m paying next time.”  
“So there’s going to be a next time?” asked Ren, hope evident in his voice.  

Gakushuu smiled.  

“Of course. Don’t think I didn’t realise this was a date. I had... fun. I’d love to do this again.”  

Ren beamed brightly, shifting the bag of books to his other hand so he could reach over and grab Gakushuu’s hand, holding it intertwined with his own, the pair striding happily down the pavement and heading home.  

Chapter Text

Korosensei did not blast into the class like usual after Valentine’s Day. Instead, he walked on two unsteady legs, helped by Karasuma.  

Chapter Text

“… and back then, I was.”   

Duke jolted to alertness, on edge instantly. Korosensei jumped, spinning around in shock. The two stared at the figure in the door – a great, hulking mass of reddish-brown tentacles that held no resemblance to a human – bar the existence of what could barely pass as a torso, waist and neck. The form was almost unrecognisable, were it not for the uncomfortably familiar hat perched on their head and the twang in his voice that both remembered.  

“You ruined me, Korogane. You made me into the monster I am – and then you fed on my love for you and never gave any back. Never!”   

He flung out a tentacle, whipping it at Korosensei. Duke started forwards, and the tentacle flinched back.  
“Shinigami.”  
“What?” snarled the mass of tentacles and rage. Duke let off steam.  
“You know exactly what. You could end this in but a moment, but instead you choose to continue this senseless violence.”  
“You used to be one of the most dangerous beings alive, Granpuff.”  
“I retired.”  
“You betrayed the title!”  
“You betrayed the title!” roared Duke, his safety valve lifting. “You made a mockery of the title of the Reaper – you would have been fine had you killed Ryushi the honourable way, not left him to be experimented on like some animal! You continue to make a mockery of the title – Lovro and Red Eye are both still alive, and that is not how a Reaper is meant to act. As vile as it is for me to say this, you should have killed them. You left loose ends, and that is intolerable for a man holding the title of Reaper. Yes, Ryushi was wrong. He was a horrible tutor, and I have spent many long hours asking myself if I should have put a stop to this and taken you in myself. But this… this is the opposite of what I wanted for either of you. Yanagisawa has inflicted a deathblow to the aged and formerly-noble title of the Reaper. What would his Grace say?”  

Shinigami said nothing for a long moment. Cold fury melted slowly, a hint of the boy Duke had once known appearing in his eyes.  
“I… you regret this?”  
“I regret many things youngster. I regret not killing Yanagisawa, I regret not forcing an end to the Reaper line back in 1912, I regret living sometimes… I am nothing noble, I am an engine who will forever be tormented by my sins. But my biggest regret has always been not retiring you both the moment you walked into my engine shed with that gunshot wound.”  

“I regret hurting you,” added Korosensei quietly. “It’s still hard to say – but I fucked it up. I should have been more attentive, I should have been a better mentor. But I…”  
“We both made mistakes,” Duke finished. “But it is not too late. Please Shinigami.”  

There was a beat of silence – and then Shinigami was gone.   

Neither Korosensei nor Duke said a word as the teacher carefully wiped away the rest of the blood. Then, quietly, Duke said, “I regret many things, but teaching the students will never be one of them.” Korosensei nodded; vanishing into the night himself.  

Duke was not alone for long.   

“I took care of the assassin, but I still don’t understand what your final plan is.”  
“And you never will. Not if I have any say in it. I don’t even like you doing this much.”  
“And why is that, Granpuff?”  
“You do not deserve to be dragged into this. You deserve your afterlife, your happy ending.”  
“And what about you?”  
“I have committed far too many sins for that.”  

The eyes widened at that, before vanishing in a cloud of steam. Duke took a deep breath and closed his eyes, surrounded by thick mist and bleeding red eyes.  

He didn’t notice the feral grin hidden in the shadows behind him.  

***   

Duke sat in front of the class, an uncharacteristically nervous look on his face. The students were at once on edge, eyes warily scanning the old engine for signs of danger.   

“Hello youngsters… um… oh goodness, this is awkward.” The old engine blushed faintly.  
“What is it, Granpuff?”  
“Well… as you all know, you are almost at the end of your school year… and… you all have to think about where to go next year…”  

There was a quiet murmur of agreement. The month prior had been spent with the students all telling Korosensei their plans for the future – politicians, business owners, teachers, accountants; every student had their own aspirations. The teaching staff were so proud.  

Supposedly, even Karasuma had smiled.  

“Well!” Duke went on, mustering up some courage. “I have an alternate offer for you all. The Royal Academy of Sodor is a world-leading school… and it is actually right on the Skarloey Railway too – and I can get you all in on scholarships, with expenses of living there paid and it would be absolutely wonderful to see you all more often…”   

“What’s the betting he funded the school?” hummed Okuda.  
“Two hundred yen - there's no way he put money into a school,” grinned Sugino.   
“Deal.”  

“Did you say… the Royal Academy of Sodor – as in, the renowned Academy where the best of Britain go…” asked Nakamura slowly. “As in… the preferred high school for Cambridge applicants?”  
“That would be correct.”  
“And you can get this entire class in?”  
“Easily,” Duke replied. “My… activities helped to fund the construction of the school.” In the background, Sugino handed some money over to Okuda.  

Duke paused, watching for any other response.  
“Are you offering us the chance to go to the Royal Academy of Sodor?” asked Nagisa slowly.  
“Yeah... Yes, yes I am,” Duke replied. “It’s open to you all – not that you must go! But…” The sentence stretched into silence.  

“Give us a chance to think about it,” Nakamura eventually said. Duke agreed, and quietly puffed away.   

He wandered through the trees, watching the clouds drift by. His mind was far away, thinking of lifetimes passed. Stopping by the edge of the valley, he gazed out over the treetops, seeing worlds that he once knew so well.   

It sometimes frightened him, how little he remembered the faces and places that had once been his home. The Mid Sodor seemed so far away, so long ago in his memory it was but a blur. Some events, more than others, stuck out clearly - but the vast majority of his time on the old MSR where covered by a cloud of haze. Such, Duke mused, was the infirmity of age.   

The rustling of branches behind him alerted the old engine to the presence of several people.  

“We’re interested.”  
“Really? Do you mean it?” The figures strode around to Duke’s front, leaning against his bufferbeam.  
“Of course we do,” grinned Terasaka. “Who wouldn’t want the chance to see Sodor?”  
“It sounds insane enough from the stories,” agreed Hayami.  

***   

School continued apace. The soldiers cleared the mountain for classes to resume, and soon the old building was filled with the sound of children’s pens scratching against their notepads.   

Revising was taught in every conceivable way, from seduction games to singing formulas to the tune of ‘ the Knife Game Song ’ while practicing the game itself with their Anti-Korosensei knives. Practical skills classes also went ahead, with Duke teaching ‘blade ethics’ with Karasuma’s help for the first class.   

“A sharp blade will cause far less accidents than a blunt blade. This is a physics phenomenon known as force exposure. The sharper your blade, the less downward force you must use to cut whatever it is you're using the knife on.” They practiced sharpening knives on whetstones, honing rods and even an old coffee mug!  
“It’s better to learn here where we can guide you and give pointers then at home off some old Wikihow website,” Karasuma said, tilting Kimura’s knife so it was at the correct angle. Irina pulled out her own knife, expertly sharpening it on a honing rod.  
“Woah! How did you do that?”  
“I assassinated one of my targets by poisoning his food – seduced the chef. He taught me a couple tricks.” Yada nodded, and tugged on Irina’s shirt cuff.  
“Teach me!” she grinned.  

The week went by far too quickly for anyone’s liking – and by the end of it, another noticeable change had overcome Korosensei.   

His entire torso was shortened back to its correct height, leaving him only about as tall as Terasaka.  
“Well, look at the short-stuff teacher now,” grinned Terasaka. “It’s a real shame we can’t shoot at you now,” he went on, trying to stare Korosensei down. “Could’ve been fun.” Korosensei chuckled, turning away from his student.  

“It could’ve – but you chose to honour life. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”   

***   

Another week passed – and the finals loomed over the class. Only a matter of days stood between them and their exams. And yet, none of them seemed to mind. They were prepared. They were ready. They…   

“I think it is time I taught you the truth about the Sudrian Revolt.”   

Okay – that was concerning.   

Chapter Text

“I beg your pardon Duke?”
“The Sudrian Revolt… the history books lie. The curriculum lies – I have lied. Do not fret – what you have learnt is what is taught to all students – but the truth is a very different story to the history. I think the first thing to know is the death toll given is wildly inaccurate.”
“But… every book, paper, letter – every piece of evidence you… oh.”
“Karma got it – who’s next?”
“You… no… no way – but why?”
“Gakushuu.”
“Wait, what are the pair of you talking about? Yes, Granpuff gave us all our evidence – but it all comes from books written by… wait…”
“Ren.”
“Stop messing with us!” snapped Nakamura. “It’s obvious you fiddled with the truth! But what are you all gasping about?”
“Go back to your Sudrian Revolt textbook – and read the opening blurb,” Duke said. The students, Karasuma and Irina all opened textbooks, checking through the opening blurb.

“Many thanks to Duke the engine for his part in recording the history of early modern Sodor. Without his help, this book could not have been completed. How many books have you given false evidence to?”
“All of them.”
“All of them?! But… how? Why?”
“It… it was part of a project by the people of Sodor to cover up and downplay the revolt to save the tourism industry. At the time, we’d only just gained the Isle of Man Steam Packet Company contract – and the Island needed the income badly. We didn’t doctor all documents – only those relating to the worst of the revolt, in the valley and mountains along the Mid Sodor Railway.”
“You mean…”
“I was a trusted source, both because I was a surviving source and because I had a front-row siding to it all. There were protests on the Skarloey Railway, and a few disruptions along the south coast – but those areas didn’t have the same history in connection to the laws the Mid Sodor did. There was no bloodshed there.”
“Three hundred and forty-five people died!” Nagisa exclaimed. “Where did that happen? Unless…”

Duke looked away guiltily. The class went silent.

“Duke…”
“Yes Sugaya?”
“How many people actually died in the Sudrian Revolt?” Duke didn’t reply for a long moment.
“Roughly four-thousand five-hundred…”

The class remained silent for a long time afterwards.

“I have a story to tell – but it’s not a pleasant one. Are you ready?”
“Yeah, we’re ready.”

Duke took a deep breath, and told his story.

***

It all began when the British Government broke an ancient treaty signed by Queen Elizabeth the first, installing new, oppressive laws to try and outlaw ‘Sudrian’ as a culture, by banning traditional clothing, language, names and other elements of the world they lived in.

At the time, a second engine had come to help run the railway. He’d been built in the Falcon Works over in England, and had no respect for the Sudrians the line served.

“All the world should be like England – civilized. These… barbarians need to learn this,” he spat after watching the woman being driven out of her house for wearing traditional Sudrian clothes. Duke was furious.
“Now listen here youngster, these people are some of the nicest in the world, and to say such things is an insult to them and to this island!” The engine didn’t listen. He laughed rudely when the locals complained about their unfair treatment, and soon Duke lost patience.

“You need to learn sense – now! You are being a horrid little demon, and if you won’t change your attitude it’ll lead to your demise! This would never suit his Grace!” Duke snapped after one incident.
“My attitude is not the problem here. The problem here is these inferior people will not learn the enlightenment they so desperately need.

The revolt began over a signpost. It displayed the name of the oldest street in the valley, which was named after Sigrid of Arlesdale, a hero of the Sudrian people. The local mayor wanted it to be taken down and replaced with a new name: Edward Parade, after the Prince of Wales. The insult was too great to bear, and when people came to take down the sign, they found a mass of locals blocking their way.

The protest turned ugly, and soon a full-scale uprising was happening across the valley. Now, what people never do mention is the incident at the signpost did not truly begin the Revolt. At first there was little fighting. There was a lot of tension – a few scuffles. But it was kept mostly to singular encounters.

But then the railway’s board of directors began to act out. They began segregating Sudrians and ‘Enlightened people’. Duke refused to pull the trains – but the other engine loved it. He pulled all the passenger trains, purposefully leaving Sudrians behind. Duke was relegated to freight traffic – and the Sudrians chose to ride in his trucks. The board of directors banned the practice – and they weren’t alone. English-owned companies around the area followed suit – segregating the Sudrians and treating them like dirt, and that was when things went… red .

***

“Red?”
“I woke up one morning to Arlesdale on fire. The town burnt a bright red, filling the sky with black. People ran through the streets, screaming and shouting. Buckets and hoses fired water into the blaze, but for nought. The fire was everywhere. My driver… he drove me out of the sheds, away from the flames…

The shed… the coaches… I remember hearing their screams.”
“What?”
“We kept some of our nicer coaches in the sheds – I couldn’t get to them in time, and they burnt to death.”

There was a long silence.

“You don’t have to keep going,” said Nagisa gently, walking over and patting Duke on the buffer. “It was clearly a traumatic time for you. I mean, you were what – ten?”
“Twenty-six.”
“I… beg your pardon?”
“I was twenty-six in 1889 – though I suppose I had only really lived for ten of those years.”

Duke didn’t say anything for a long time after.
“I suppose the only thing I have left to say is that the uprising ended because the British sent in a battalion.”
“But… the Sudrians won the revolt?” Kayano said slowly, holding up her textbook.
“They did. I never said the battalion fought. The very first Reaper completed his first assassination, shooting a bullet at a string of hidden dynamite and blew up the train carrying the battalion. I remember watching it happen, and seeing my fireman sprint forward to help, only for more dynamite… to… to…”

Duke went silent, and suddenly puffed away.

The students didn’t chase after him – instead, they began the long trek down the mountain to head home, a little uneasy on the dirt track they had used so little since the rail line was first built.

“I’m beginning to understand why Duke lied,” murmured Okajima. No one answered him.

***

The moment exams began, the CERN scientists got to work. There were only four things they really had left: reconstruct Korosensei’s face, fix his lungs, fix his heart and, finally, rebuild his brain.
“I’m down to Mach seven now,” said Korosensei one morning, sitting beside Duke as the pair watched the flowers slowly force their way through the dirt and into the early March sunlight.
“Oh? And here I thought you’d be having trouble after the recent liver surgery.”
“Not really – while I’m almost a completely normal human again, I think the speed is going to stay – although maybe nearer to Mach one or two.”
“I’m not sure your new heart or lungs will be able to handle that.”
“I thought the same about my arms and legs.”

The two watched as a daisy feebly unfurled, its petals stretching out to catch the sun. A small patch of rust floated out from under Duke.

“Granpuff…”
“I don’t want to talk about it. You have your first lung surgery in an hour. Please, let me pretend that it’s still the festival, or even the earlier days when all I had to worry about was Terasaka running off or Karma setting up traps. He hasn’t set up a trap in a while – and I’m worried. I worry for them all Ryushi. I can’t help longing for days long gone…”

Somehow, Korosensei knew Duke didn’t mean the year he’d spent with the Assassination Classroom.

“Granpuff… why are you doing all this?”
“Because youngster – I know I have to.”

Duke steamed away, blowing smoke everywhere to cover his exit. Behind him, flakes of metallic, rusted red fell to the ground, accenting the dark green of the grass.

“Exit, stage right,” murmured a voice. Korosensei looked back, spotting his successor crouching in the trees by the edge of the oval.
“Enter, stage left,” retorted Korosensei. “How have you been?” The writhing mass of tentacles had been tamed by a shirt and a pair of shorts, helping define the basic shape of the former human. His skull was less defined though, instead the illusion of cheeks was created by a pair of tentacles coiled tightly in place.
“Very well actually – Yanagisawa’s lost it, so leaving his little base was all too easy. I found my original face too actually – you kept it?” He held up the stretched skin, and shot a look at the no-longer bright neon-yellow man.
“I did…” admitted Korosensei quietly. “So… have you…?”
“I have not chosen yet. I want to see you bleed for what you did – and yet, I also want to try again. I don’t know. I came today to wish you luck with your surgery. Yanagisawa never used anaesthetic.”
“Did you…”
“No. I did not choose to have this form. But hey – I move at Mach 40 now.”
“Want to fly together? At least once? After my surgery, old Granpuff won’t let me up into the sky.”

There was a beat of silence – and then only dust, fluttering through the air as a silent reminder of the two god-like experiments that had sat there before.

Chapter Text

 Many universities considered passing the exams held at Kunugigaoka Junior High School valid reason to admit a candidate into their academies, and even the lowest passing grade would still average out to one of the highest marks in the nation. It just cannot be stressed enough just how difficult these exams were. There is no need to give precious time to explaining every little thing about the exams. Such pain is reserved for the students alone – rather, instead the nature of these exams should be mentioned, as these exams were some of the hardest in the whole of Japan.  

The first exam was English – which was separated into three parts: spelling and grammar, an essay comparing Frankenstein with The Metamorphosis, and finally a section dedicated solely to writing from a prompt selected from a choice of five. The essay had to be at least one thousand words, and the writing section had a minimum page limit of five full pages of writing. An exchange student from Australia who had once sat this exam called it the ‘most challenging English test’ he’d ever seen. Said exchange student would later become a successful novelist.  

Then there was mathematics – done at a level that would have made even a teen in their final year of high school gawk, with several notable mathematicians helping to write out the test by submitting questions they found challenging – and science, which focused on all three major branches of Science studied in the school: Physics, Chemistry and Biology. The Biology exam in particular was one of the worst in the country, as it was a prerequisite for studying medicine in university , and included questions about the immune system, the transmission of viral diseases and the purposes of stem cells.  

After all of that came a Japanese Literature exam that was also separated into three parts similarly to English, only the books they were examining were Kappa and Minecart by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa. These were considered easier than their equivalent English exam, though that was purely because the school was forcibly restrained by the Japanese curriculum, keeping them from using any more advanced texts.  

Finally, there was history.   

The History Exam devoted a page to each event in the Age of Revolutions, starting in the US with the American Revolution, then continuing on until it reached its final page: the Sudrian Revolt.   

And over one hundred students stared at the final page, first with blank confusion, then with mounting horror, at the final question. The final question on the final exam of their time at Kunugigaoka Junior High School. The toughest question – one no amount of revising the textbook could prepare any hardworking student for. A question that left even the fabled Principal stunned – there was no question like it. It had no straightforward answer, no true or false – it was a question that could have been found in the final exams of someone in their final year of high school, or even in university.  

The question: To what extent is the information given in history books about the Sudrian Revolt falsified due to the intentional altering of official documents from the period by the Sudrian People?   

***   

With the final exams over, and the entrance exams into high school completed, the students could finally sit down for a quiet, peaceful day of relaxation at school. Duke gazed upon his youngsters with nothing but grandpaternal love.  
“You have all done it – I am so proud of you all,” he said as the students met him at the bottom of the mountain. “This is cause for a celebration. I have a bottle of whiskey in my cab and shot glasses.”  
“Er…” Only Karma inched towards Duke’s cab – and Nagisa grabbed his shoulder before he could make it. Karma pouted at Nagisa and got a peck for his troubles.  
“Actually,” Nagisa said with a sly smile, “we have a surprise for you too.”  
“A surprise?” asked Duke slowly. “What…”  

The students all pulled out acceptance letters from the Royal Academy of Sodor, showing them off to a stunned Duke.   

“We got into the Academy on our own merit – though we’ll take the scholarships! You’d best take care of us there!” the teens chanted together. Duke gasped, tears springing into his eyes.  
“Oh, students!” he exclaimed, tears running down his cheeks. “I am so, so proud of you all! This is the best surprise you could give an old engine!” He sniffled, the tears coming faster now. “I am just so happy to hear you all decided to come! Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t help it. These are happy tears.”  

“We know Granpuff, we know,” soothed Maehara and Isogai. Terasaka quietly snuck the bottle of whiskey into his coat, noting the flecks of rust scraping off Duke’s firebox door with a little apprehension.  

They headed up to the classroom, took their seats, and waited for Korosensei to arrive – and gasped in amazement. He looked completely human!  

“You all got into one of the top ten schools internationally! Congratulations! Splendid job wielding those second blades of yours!” cheered Korosensei. For some reason, it didn’t look quite right to see him in his human form, and yet in his huge, billowing teaching robe. “You’ll all move on to high school like the twinkling stars you are – and the Royal Academy of Sodor is a huge step forwards in all your careers!” The students whooped and cheered; Terasaka snuck a swig of the whiskey, then passed right out. Lightweight.   

That was probably for the better, considering what came next.   

“And what does one do, on such a joyous occasion?” The students grabbed party poppers, they grabbed those annoying party horns – they got ready to celebrate! Korosensei beamed at his students, and then—  

“Editing.”   

Korosensei sat down behind his desk, put on a pair of spectacles and began reading over one of the papers in front of him.  

“Huh?! What for?!”  
“I’m making a yearbook of course – just for Class E!”  

Poor Korosensei hadn’t been able to appear in any of the pictures for the official yearbook, and neither had Duke, so now Korosensei was in his ‘oddness mode’. He’d gone and gathered something to the tune of forty thousand pictures he’d taken from throughout the year and dumped them on his desk at the front of class. He told the class this with crocodile tears in his eyes, then used their stunned (horrified) silence as a fervent cheer and began pulling out the stacks of pictures. It was slightly less weird than usual, seeing as Korosensei couldn’t use his no-longer-existent tentacles to flail about and add to the already insane scene he had created.  

“Now to find the most memorable ones together!” chirped Korosensei. In the background, Irina stared at Karasuma with little hearts floating above her head, and Karasuma stared out the window at where Duke was quietly napping.   

“When did you take these?” wondered Hayami aloud.  
“That’s our peeping sensei,” sighed Okajima.  
“I have one of you running around the grounds at night in the buff,” Korosensei retorted, holding up one of the photos.  

Okajima leapt out of his chair and sprinted at Korosensei.  
“Why do you have that?! What if there’s some super sketchy pics of me in there?!”  
“How is that not super sketchy?” asked Chiba, saying aloud what all the students were thinking.  

There were a lot of pictures in the pile – pics of Isogai digging for truffles to sell, Kataoka trying on dresses, Mimura rocking out to air guitar in the night, Hayami petting a cute kitten, Nakamura winning an arm-wrestle against Muramatsu, Terasaka trying to coerce Yoshida into a maid café with Takebayashi, Duke dozing, Karma and Nagisa kissing behind the gym equipment shed…   

“Destroy all the photos!” roared Kayano, and the class stormed in – with the exception of Itona and an asleep Terasaka. Korosensei sighed.  
“And I was hoping for a ten-thousand-page yearbook.”  
“The dictionary’s not even three thousand pages!” (And for reference, an English translation of Zettel’s Traum by Arno Schmidt has 1496 pages, and weighs over six kilograms.)  

One picture in particular caught Hazama’s eye. She slipped it into her jacket pocket, then made her escape while Korosensei began trying to force the other students into wild costumes to take part in random photos including ‘bio-history’, ‘Japanese history’ and ‘the history of religion.’  
“I’m beginning to see a pattern here,” murmured Nagisa as Karasuma and Duke chased after Muramatsu to try and make him put his pants back on.  

“A loincloth is not included in school policy!” shouted Karasuma. Sugaya, Kimura and Maehara all pounced on Okajima before he could strip off and join Muramatsu. Mimura quietly slipped away before anyone chased after him.   

“How about some photos based on subjects we actually studied this year?” suggested Duke tiredly. Karasuma was forcing a shirt onto Muramatsu in the background. Karma was being actively changed into a cowboy outfit by Korosensei.  
“I already have some of those!” groaned Korosensei, pulling out a series of rather tasteful photos of the class learning from across the year.  

At this point, Itona finally got his boyfriend to wake up, and after wrestling the bottle away from him, dragged Terasaka over to the others.   

“Alright – how about some re-enactments from the books and history topics we covered then?”  
“Like the Industrial Revolution? Or 1984?! Yes!” And Korosensei was away again. Nakamura struggled to figure out how the coif and veil Korosensei had shoved her in came off, and Kataoka baulked at the massively over-done court dress similar to what Maria Theresa would have worn, while Sugaya pulled at the rather tight Frederick the Great breeches and coat.  

“Oooh – and everyone together around Duke – it’s time for a proper group picture!”   

Everyone was changed back into their uniforms, and gathered around Duke, standing on his running board and sitting on his buffer-beam. Korosensei, Irina and Karasuma also got in on the picture, setting the timer.   

The camera flashed – and the cover picture for the yearbook was taken.   

“He’s spoiling you,” said Karasuma to Nakamura, Nagisa and Kayano. In the background, Korosensei tried to pull Chiba and Hayami into a Matrix-style scene.   

“You’ve come plenty far, thanks to your classes this past year. Now he wants to spoil his full-fledged students a little. I bet that’s what he’s thinking.” The students turned to Karasuma, smiling softly.  
“Oh, I get it! Do you think we turned out like that too, Karasuma-Sensei?”  
“Sure,” chuckled Karasuma, his usual stoic look replaced by something far fonder. “If I ever have a hard time, I’d trust you all without hesitation. I can count on you.”  

A couple of the girls poked at Irina. She still had this weird faraway look in her eyes, and she was even drooling just slightly.  
“Why is she mumbling so much?”  
“Maybe she found religion.”  

A couple of the students shot Fuwa quizzical looks.   

“Bitch-Sensei? Religion? More like she got her brains fu—”  
“Nope!”  
“Aw, come on author! Let her say it. Okajima and Muramatsu did a strip tease. Unless this is about…”   
They did not! That was from the source material – it had nothing to do with me. Stop your weird fantasies now Fuwa, I swear to the heavens!”  
“You’re an atheist.’  
‘Damnit Fuwa I am up to here with you and I am not afraid to send you to South America while the others go to Sodor.’  
“…Fine.”  

The others stared at Fuwa, trying to understand the weird girl.  
“I AM NOT WEIRD!”  
‘Yes you are. And as the author I get the final word, so there.’  

Chapter Text

March Sixth arrived and went. Irina happily gave Korosensei a five-hour long interview about her ‘love-life’ with Karasuma – and then Karasuma spent the next five hours refuting every claim vehemently while the teacher grinned evilly. Duke prepared for the long journey back to Sodor, quietly pulling up some of the unused rails and placing dynamite down to blow the bridges with Takebayashi.   

“No traces,” he murmured when Takebayashi asked. The teen didn’t ask where Duke had gotten the explosives from.  

As evening fell and the students headed home, Korosensei sat back in his office and continued preparing the yearbook. Karasuma sat opposite him, filling out forms for the Special Forces. Irina scrolled through her socials.   

The laser stunned them all.   

One moment, Korosensei was sifting through the pictures – the next he smashed through the window, Karasuma and Irina in his arms as the beam of red slammed into the school building. It somehow managed not to vaporize anything – bar the anti-matter tentacle sample Okuda had been studying.   

The three hit the ground and rolled, Karasuma and Irina landing crouched on the grass at the edge of the laser’s radius. Korosensei rolled onto his back, chest welded shut as he clutched at his chest.  

“What… was... that?” panted Irina.  
“The Spear of Heaven…” hissed Karasuma, realisation dawning. “But… they weren’t supposed to… you need to get out of here. Go!” Korosensei picked himself up off the grass just as the world began to glow orange.  

***   

Duke was underground when everything went to hell, in a long, narrow tunnel that burrowed deep through the ground. He heard the shield powering up, felt it rock the tunnel as it pierced through the earth. But the tunnel stayed in one piece, the shield rebounding off the reinforcements the old engine had had added.  
“Pays to know what’s going on,” muttered the engine darkly.  

Duke sped backwards, racing up the mountain to find Karasuma, Irina and Korosensei all laying on the ground beside the schoolhouse.   

“Was anyone hurt?”  
“No… Korosensei got us out in time.”  
“Damnit – I thought CERN pulled out of that weapon!”  
“They did – the Australian Synchrotron provided the last of the research,” said Karasuma darkly.  

“We need to get Korosensei out of here. He has two surgeries to go! And then he’s scot-free,” Irina exclaimed.   
“How? The barrier encircles the entire mountain.”  
“Not the entire mountain… there is an exit, but the equipment is here. I can get the scientists in, and you two out – but we need to wait the week for Korosensei’s final surgery. They need specialised scanners – and they aren’t due to arrive for four days.”  
“We also need to get the students to safety before the media descends on them,” Karasuma said.  

“Well then – we have a challenge ahead of us,” Duke said. “Karasuma, please hook up my coach.”   

Duke set off, Karasuma in his cab. They headed along the little line, passing by ripped up sidings as they descended the mountain along a route Karasuma had never seen before. It twisted and turned along aged embankments, running on slightly rusted rails laid lightly on rotting wooden sleepers embedded into the ground. It was nothing like the crisp, clean steel the students had used when they built Duke’s line down to the school.  

“Who built this?”  
“Some people I know – it pays to have connections. They also built the tunnel.”  
“What tunnel? All I see is an old shed.” Duke chuckled, puffing into the ramshackle shed and slowing to a stop inside it. All around them, the smell of wood rot and mildew filled the air, tiny holes poked into the shed walls letting in a faint breeze. Duke’s wheels clicked into a small groove in the rails, and the floor groaned loudly beneath them. Cogs grinded, a pulley moaned, and then the entire shed floor slowly sunk into the ground.  

It sunk deep into the earth until a glimmer of light emerged. Duke rolled forwards, stopping the platform in line with a long, narrow tunnel. It was cramped, the entire tunnel only just wide enough to accommodate Duke as he rolled quietly along. Small vents were built into the tunnel roof, pulling smoke up towards the surface. The walls were chipped at, grooves where pickaxes had dug into the stone evident along its uneven surface.  

“What… is this?”  
“This is a route I use. Every engine has his secrets – this is one of mine.”  
“How… did Koro…”  
“Old Korogane? He’s not got a clue. He’s clever – but I built this tunnel decades ago.”  

Silence fell between the two as the old engine continued down the tunnel.   

“Why… did you build this?”  
“In 1931, Japan invaded Manchuria. I knew… people… in both Japan and China that wished to escape the violence – and to escape the extreme Militarism Japan was undergoing at the time. This tunnel is part of an underground network I helped construct, utilising the knowledge presented to me by my contacts. This tunnel runs to the bay, where foreign steamships smuggled the refugees to Hawaii, and later in the war to New Zealand and Canada. This is only one of the tunnels – there are around four of these across Japan, and a further seven in China. They weren’t cheap, let me tell you.”  

“But your railway…”  
“The money could have been spent on my railway – but much like the Eastern European tunnels, these tunnels were more important.”  
“The Eastern… Duke, do you know where the Nazi Gold Train is?!”  
“I will not deign to answer that question,” Duke chuckled wryly. He paused, stretching his jaw. “Now, we are about to reach a small platform – the ladder will lead up until you reach a metal grate – shift it aside, and you will be in the kitchen of Muramatsu’s ramen shop. Much luck to you – I’m going to go find the CERN scientists, and then have a very long chat with whichever nitwit thought firing that bloody laser was a clever idea.”  

Duke slowed, and Karasuma hopped down onto the platform. A slightly rusted, damp ladder stood bolted to the wall opposite. It creaked ominously.  
“The things I do for this job,” muttered Karasuma darkly, before grabbing the first rung and hauling himself up.  

***   

Muramatsu Takuya had not really done much for the length of this book. He’d been around, learning and growing with the rest of the class – he’d developed his own style of cooking, he’d gained a heap of close friends, both in Terasaka’s clique and with the others, and he’d enjoyed getting the chance to drive a living steam engine with Yoshida a couple times. He’d also run around in a loincloth in the chapter previous,   

When the giant orange glowing shield appeared around the mountain that was his school, Muramatsu decided that the best way to react was by stress-cooking enough food to feed a small army; or his class, whichever stormed into his father’s shop first. From the rumble of large, camouflage-coated trucks outside, either was equally likely.  

What he did not expect was for Karasuma to push aside one of the floor panels and emerge into the kitchen while he was sizzling some chunks of steak for a fried rice.   

“Karasuma-Sensei? Are you a vandal? Duke told us about vandals who randomly pop out of nowhere – but he never said they came from the floor.”  
“Hilarious," deadpanned Karasuma. "Did you know Duke had a secret tunnel that connected to your ramen shop?”  

Muramatsu blinked. Once. Twice.   

“I’m sorry, what?!”    

***   

It took maybe three minutes all total for half the class to be crowded into Muramatsu’s shop, eating the stress-cooked food he’d made and staring at the missing panel in his kitchen floor in amazement. The other half was on their way, dodging the roadblocks and checkpoints the military had set up, not to mention the press.  

“So Karasuma-Sensei just… appeared from the hole?”  
“Yeah – and apparently Duke is down there somewhere.”  
“So… just to recap. Karasuma-Sensei just… appeared from the hole?”  
“Yep – and Duke’s supposed to be down there somewhere.”  
“Wait – you’re telling me—”  
“GODDAMNIT KARMA YOU HEARD HIM THE FIRST TIME!”  

Karasuma continued to question his life choices while enjoying a very well-cooked stir-fry.   

Karma happily bugged Terasaka and Itona while Okano and Yada rang the rest of the class to check in on them and Hara helped Muramatsu serve up their classmates as they hurried in. All the while, the barrier pulsed and glowed ominously in the night sky, a great orange shield that lit up the night and held the focus of the entire town.   

“They’ll be doing interviews soon,” said Karasuma tiredly. “The media’ll be on a manhunt for you lot.” 
“They already are,” sighed Nakamura, slipping into the shop through its kitchen entrance and almost falling down the hole in the floor. “So what are we going to do?”  
“Duke thinks the mountain is the best spot for the lot of you – I said Madagascar, but Korosensei can’t exactly stuff you in his giant handbag anymore.”  
“Where’d he even get it anyway?” asked Muramatsu.  
“…”  

With that question helpfully unanswered, Nagisa and Kayano arrived. After accepting the food thrust upon them, the two sat down with the others. The crowd only grew – the little ramen store thrummed with the sound of chatter and eating, even though the doors were locked, and the blinds slammed down over the windows.    

“Maybe this’s what it’ll be like when you modernise it,” Itona said quietly to Muramatsu.  
“Was that a compliment? From the Horibe Itona?”  
“Then again, it depends on if you can fix that personality of yours.”  
“Hey!”  

Terasaka waded in to save his boyfriend from his friend’s spatula of death, and Karma went over and pulled Nagisa out of his chair, stole his chair, and then pulled Nagisa right back into his lap. Nagisa turned the cutest shade of red, matching Karma’s hair perfectly. The last of 3E burst in – having picked the lock on the door and then relocked it behind them – and at that moment the rather haunting sound of Duke’s whistle floated up from deep under the shop.   

“Okay – this is super weird.”  
“We’re going down that ladder. I’ll go first – please be careful, the ladder is old,” Karasuma ordered – then he slid down onto the ladder.  

The class went down one by one, joining Karasuma and Duke at the bottom. They piled into the carriage, and then Duke was off, puffing backwards down the tunnel.   

Chapter Text

They set up tents on the oval, standing them up in neat rows with the medical tent in the centre. A campfire was built at one end, which was steadily built up with fallen branches collected from the sprawling woods. The air was still cool, but more pleasant than it had been but a month ago. The blossoms of spring were slowly flowering all across the mountain, a perfect backdrop to Itona and Terasaka’s long walk. 
“Did you just want to fit in as many tropes as possible or something author?” Fuwa suddenly interjected.  
'No – where did you think you were going to sleep? In the classroom? I will not have that kind of story happen Fuwa, no matter how much you ask for it.'
“I mean, I wasn’t…”  

Fuwa was sent to go scout out Mozambique , while the rest of the class went ahead to prepare for the final surgery.   

“Hey! Bring me— don’t you walk away from me! Damnit Author!” And now I’ve lost Terasaka and Itona... oh well.  

With that out of the way, back to the main story.   

The night fell hard, a final chill sweeping across the mountain to seep into the bones of the students. To keep warm, they huddled around the fire, roasting marshmallows Muramatsu had brought from his shop. Karma told a truly terrifying ghost story that left Nagisa shaking in his lap. The redhead grinned smugly at the rest of the class, ignoring the annoyed looks from Kayano.  

“You know, if it weren’t for the barrier, this would be rather nice.” Sugaya’s soft words went unanswered, though the entire class silently agreed. It wasn’t long after that that the students all wandered off to their tents, the sheer exhaustion of setting up finally catching up with them. But even then, the stark orange glow of the barrier wall penetrated through the flimsy fabric of the tents, as if taunting them all over the situation.  

No one was able to sleep comfortably.  

Dawn brought no relief to the students. They watched anxiously, huddled around Ritsu’s screen, as the news outlets tore into their beloved teacher. Reporters flashed up on every channel, all scrambling to be closest to the perimeter the army had set up before yammering into the microphones, spouting pure lies.  
“He appears to have kidnapped and held an entire class hostage for the past year, forcing them to learn and perform sham assassinations for his pleasure.”  
“What an asshole!” hissed Sugino.  
“The creature – if it can even be called that – has been spotted across the planet, and may be involved in the cases of stolen underwear opened in Italy, Brazil and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.”  
“Korosensei… may have done that,” sighed Maehara.  
“I have not!” yowled Korosensei in the background.   
“When we tried to find some of his poor, traumatised students for questioning we were astonished to find that not one could be found! Is this part of some greater cover-up?”  
“Turn it off,” groaned Gakushuu, flopping onto his back. “I can’t take this anymore. There’s nothing we can do at this point.”  

There really wasn’t much they could do. They trained – using the trees and thick forest as cover to sharpen their ‘secondary blades’. They chatted, they plotted. Gakushuu wondered if his father was in trouble for harbouring Korosensei. Hara and Muramatsu spent time cooking together, trading tips on spicing meat and stabbing people with equal ease. Okajima of all people started a knitting circle, and quickly gained a following from most of the boys. They snuck into town and bought wool and knitting needles; getting straight to work on teaching themselves. Irina-Sensei was surprisingly adept at knitting – though that was mostly because she’d once used a knitting needle to stab someone through the eye for an assassination and had learnt to knit so she could carry the weapons into the room. Itona ran a reconnaissance mission into the town, using his modified drone to check on the setup the government had.   

“The good news is they don’t know we’re here,” announced Isogai, stepping off of Duke’s footplate, Itona close behind. “Bad news is the reason they don’t is cause they’ve got a specialised setup designed to solely sense the tentacles. And from what our camera saw, it seems to be damn good at what it does.”   

Itona held out the prints of the footage they had gotten. Karasuma, Duke and Korosensei inspected them – only for Duke to frown.   

“This cannot be right – Korosensei has only got his brain left to be ‘de-tentacled’.”  
“But this shows… an entire person made of tentacles,” Karasuma said, pointing at a bright flash high up on the mountain peak.  

“He’s on the mountain too…”   

“Who is?” asked Kurahashi.  
“The man who usurped Korosensei. I can only hope we find him before the second laser is fired.”  
“Why? Won’t it be good if he dies?”  
“No. Even if he has made mistakes in his past, it is my duty to try and help him,” Duke said sternly. “Most people deserve the chance to be better, and he was one of my students. I will not leave him behind.”  
“Most?” asked Ren. Duke looked over, his old eyes flashing in the morning light.  
“Not everyone can be saved sometimes. If they could be, there would be no assassins.”  

With those rather ominous words, Duke puffed away from the camp, vanishing into the woods.    

When he returned, it was getting late. The darkness of night was overtaking the brightness of day, the blazing sun fading into inky blackness. The barrier in all its glory lit up the evening sky, casting an orange glow on the town. It was an odd barrier – it seemed to be both solid and non-existent at once. Nothing could pass through, and yet it very clearly was not a physical barrier, but instead one made of hardened light.   

“Poor Einstein would be turning in his grave if he saw this,” Duke murmured.  
“Did you know him?” asked Korosensei.  
“Surprisingly enough, no. Getting to know scientists is a more recent development. I did meet Hitler once though – he made an unofficial visit to me in 1936, just after the German Olympics... Probably wanted to try and get support from the underworld through me. He told me that he had a vision for the world, one where non-faceless vehicles would no longer face oppression. I asked him how – he replied by saying that when Germany had enough power, it would force the world to give us rights. I was always amazed by the way he spoke – he had a fire to his voice that seemed to entice.”  

Duke went silent, staring off into the distorted sunset.   

“He would sign the Rome-Berlin Axis the next week, and within three years the world would be at war. I was horrified at what I saw, what I had almost fallen for.”   

“Alright – enough!” shouted a voice. Duke’s eyes darted back. The entire class was staring at the pair. “Duke, you have a lot to tell us, and it’s about time you did.”   

Duke’s old eyes hardened.   

“What would you like me to tell you? That I have a horrible past and a bleak future?! There is no point – my secrets will follow me to the grave.” Duke fired a jet of steam, which billowed into a great cloud that filled the air around the old engine – and then he was gone. He left behind a faint trail of rust, the particles shorn onto the line.   

Duke raced through the trees, following the paths built to help him traverse the mountain. He reached the ramshackle shed and sunk down into the earth. Here, the particles stopped bleeding off him, ending the trail that could be used to follow him. He continued onwards through the tunnel, not slowing at all as he sped past the ladder up to Muramatsu’s shop, then to the old end to the tunnel which led out into the harbour. The harbour here was long abandoned, silent cranes standing like giant eldritch monsters against the darkened sky. A single yellowed electric light flickered outside the little shed at the end of the line, revealing blood red eyes, then the outline of an engine.  

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” sneered the outline.  
“To what... do you owe the pleasure... indeed?” huffed Duke, panting between words as he tried to get his breath back. It seemed like all the air in the world couldn’t fill his firebox, the flames flickered before dying down to embers. The outline rolled slowly forwards, the sound of steel creaking and groaning filling the air. In the distance, a car sped past on the highway.  

“You don’t have long left.”  
“I’m aware,” grit out Duke. The old engine winced as he felt a pain lash along his undercarriage. “I’m a dying engine.”  
“Your valve gear and axles grinding together now, aren’t they? Every wheel turn is agony. You’re slowly being ground into rust.” Duke said nothing, but a single tear ran down his cheek.  

“I won’t ever be able to see Peter Sam and Sir Handel again,” the old engine murmured. “I... only want the best for them.” The outline of the engine rolled ever closer, slowly dragging itself into the flickering light. It was covered in scorch marks, each one leaving behind only strips of faded, peeling blue paint. It had a face as red as the devil himself, with blackened eyes spiderwebbed with red veins and with milky-white pupils. It’s cab was ripped off, sheered steel sticking out in jagged edges. It's whistle was blown clean off, leaving behind a bent stump. 

“ Is this not what you deserve?” The spectre hissed. “For all the deaths you’ve caused – hundreds of people are waiting to speak to you Granpuff. I’m just the lucky one who gets to speak first. My death is on your buffers Granpuff – are you ready to be judged on the scales of Lady Justice?” Duke took a deep breath, and stared the spectre right in his blackened eyes.  

“I will be.”  

Chapter Text

Duke took a deep breath, trying his best to try and get air into his firebox. It hurt.  
“You want to take me now?” he managed to gasp out, feeling something deep inside him begin to burn.  
“It should be time,” grit out the spectre. “You have been on borrowed time since the closure of your old line. I have been far too lenient with you.”  

Duke rolled his eyes.  
“Lenient? I was placed in that shed out of the goodness of the manager’s heart--” Duke croaked on the last word, unable to say anything more as he was wracked by a coughing fit. Rust fell from his mouth in a great cloud, the old engine almost choking.  
“It was lenience!” the spectre hissed.  
“Whatever you... say,” Duke managed to say, swallowing down his pain. “May I at least have until after Korogane, Shinigami and the class are safe?”  
“Fine,” hissed the spectre. “But I will get my dues.”  

One of the giant cranes collapsed down onto the quay, bolts flying everywhere. One lodged itself into Duke’s boiler. The dockside burst into flames, the fire feeding off of discarded oil barrels and flickering towards the two. Duke couldn’t move – he had no steam. Through the flames, the old even could clearly make out the shape of a steam engine slowly melting into molted nothingness. The roar of the fire growing ever hotter and closer. A warehouse caved in on itself nearby, great splinters of flaming wood flying madly in all directions. One hit the shed the spectre was in, setting it on fire. The spectre slowly crept out, behind it a long trail of burning coaches painted in peeling blue.   

Screams filled the air, smoke billowing out of the coaches. The fire dragged the wind in great, sharp gusts that drew the flames ever closer to the pair. The spectre groaned, their eyes widening in horror.  
“There’s dynamite here!” the spectre screamed. At that moment, the flames reached the explosives on the far end of one of the piers, detonating with such force the floating quay exploded outwards, then began to sink, bubbles rising where it had once stood.  

As it did, the engine’s boiler buckled, steam screaming out of tiny cracks and dents. The pain contorted the spectre’s broken face, and it managed a final bellow before exploding outwards, shards of sharp steel flying out everywhere, but vanishing before they could connect. A single shard sliced through the air in front of Duke, turning to ash right between his eyes. Eyes appeared in the darkness, all in various shades of red and all glaring down at Duke.   

“You knew!” they all snarled.  
“I may have,” murmured Duke, still trying to breathe. The air was too hot, it burnt through his boiler and even with all the fire surrounding him, burning ever brighter and fiercer, growing nearer as more old crates succumbed to the raging inferno. A cry of alarm blasted through the air. The eyes were everywhere, all glaring down at Duke, judging him. The flames grew closer. The eyes passed judgement. The figure of a man appeared in the billowing orange fire. The flames, the eyes, the siren, the heat...  

And then silence. Only Duke and the man remained. The fire seemed distant now, faded.   

“I do not want this for you Duke. I did not want any of this for you.”  
“Oh sir, if only life had been that simple. You are gone, and I will follow. Just as he did before us both.”  
“He bound you together…”  
“Not quite by fate, but certainly we are more intertwined than we had ever wished to be. If only Stanley could see me now… He’d have a field day.”  

Duke took a deep breath, oxygen finally filling his firebox. The shadowy figure of the man stepped inside Duke’s cab, picking up the shovel left behind on the footplate and using it to gently stoke Duke’s fire. Flames began to flicker once more, the warmth filling through Duke’s boiler. Steam flowed once more. Duke forced his eyes to refocus, coming to rest on the raging inferno as it engulfed even more of the harbour. His route out was still clear. Duke shot a glance to the side. The entire dockside was engulfed in flames, embers reaching up high into the sky before floating down all around him. Another warehouse exploded violently, sending chunks of wood and steel careening through the air before smashing down all around Duke.  

The sound of sirens was nearer now, as was the roar of engines pushed to their limit and the cry of men preparing to battle the raging inferno.  

Duke quietly reversed backwards, stopping just inside the tunnel  
“What next?” he asked.  
“You tell me – you have more experience by now.” Came the reply. The foggy figure of the man vanished from Duke’s cab just as he rolled back far enough to trigger the old mechanic doors, watching as the iron slid into place.  

Then, he headed backwards.  

***  

He made it to Muramatsu’s before he ran out of steam. His fire was barely embers, and he coasted to a stop by the little platform.  
“It’s such a shame,” he said to himself, “that the best I could do for my youngsters was give them half of the truth.”  
“Then give us the rest of it now,” said Nagisa, appearing from deep in the tunnel. “Come on, let’s get you back to the classroom.”  
“I am not truly worth the effort Nagisa.”  
“I’m not sure…”  
“I am myself indifferent honest; but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me: I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do, crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves, all; believe none of us.”  
“Eh?”  
“Hamlet, Act three, Scene one. I feel as though it sums up me in few enough words.”  

Nagisa didn’t reply to that. Instead, he quietly built-up Duke’s fire, and then opened the regulator. There was a quiet frown on the teen’s face, and finally, he spoke.  

“From what I know – which is not much - most people deserve the chance to be better. Those who have the capacity to do right, who have done right in their past, otherwise we wouldn’t have assassins.”  
“Heh,” chuckled Duke. “Throwing my own words back at me? Clever, youngster.”  

Duke still didn’t tell him the full truth – but it was enough.   

***   

The days marched forth. The equipment arrived, and the CERN scientists came to set it up. It took a long time.   

“It’s a delicate operation – we need to somehow remove the brain without removing the brain basically.”  
“That sounds… impossible.”  
“Which is why we will be putting Korosensei under for the two days the surgery should take.” That caused quite the stir.  
“Two days?!” yelped Yada. “That’s…”  
“He will wake up within one hour before the laser is set to fire,” the scientist said grimly. “When that time arrives, we must be prepared to get as far from here as possible.”  
“We will build a flatbed for Korosensei’s stretcher,” Duke said, taking command of the worried group. “The equipment will be unimportant at the time – we can return for it once the laser has fired. If we move Korosensei onto the flatbed as soon as the surgery is declared a success and move him… but the issue with that is whether I will be capable enough…”  

The trees seemed to jeer at Duke, the wind sounding like cackling laughter, comfortable in the knowledge that he would fail.   

Duke twitched, a new plan forming in his mind.   

“We ought to start with the flatbed,” he said. “After that, the next most important thing is to pack all unnecessary equipment away as soon as possible, so that it can be transported out before the night in question.”   

Korosensei wandered over, a questioning look on his newly rebuilt face.  
“And finally – begin the surgery as soon as possible.” The head scientist nodded, stepped up to Korosensei, and injected him with a syringe. Korosensei gasped, scandalised.  

“You could have… given… given me… a warning Gran…. Granpuff…” And then Terasaka, Yoshida and Kimura were rushing forward to catch their teacher as he slumped over.   

“Not today unfortunately. Take him to the tent – the sooner the surgery begins, the sooner it ends.” They group nodded – and their plans were set in motion.   

Yoshida and Sugino led the group building the flatbed, while the knitting circle began preparing woollen cushioning and a blanket for Korosensei so he would be secure (and comfortable) while being transported. Nagisa, Karma, Ren and Gakushuu happily helped Duke replace the rails between the classroom and the shed, replacing the older, worn rails with other, less used rails from across the mountain. Itona and Terasaka headed down the mountain along the line to spy on the army camp set up in the main campus of the school – soldiers bustled about, racing in and out of tents while men in suits and fancy army uniforms shouted orders.   

“They’ve got a heap of international scientists here,” Itona declared when they returned.  
“What do you mean?” asked Takebayashi.  
“They need a whole heap of different specialists for their barrier and their laser of doom, so they’ve got most of them here to keep an eye on it all.”  
“Ah, well then… what if we caused a disruption?”  

There was only a little more than thirty-six hours until the laser fired when Takebayashi stepped forward with his suggestion.  
“What if a few of us went out and tried to disrupt the barrier, or better yet the laser?”  
“What would we do?” asked Kurahashi.  
“Well – if we detonated a small explosive, or just knocked one of these laser-things that feed the barrier out – then they would need to fix it, and we could maybe get Itona’s drone out closer to the school – and then we could get better footage.”  
“And we could maybe implant Ritsu’s USB into a computer and start dragging information,” added Kanzaki.  

“Takebayashi – you lead Group Alpha to one of the laser setups. You need to damage or destroy it enough to drag troops away, but be quick about it. I suggest a light squadron comprised of speed and agility. Take Kimura, Kataoka and Okano with you. Itona, you will lead Group Beta – your job is to get into the camp and get your drone in position, and other cameras or sensors if possible. Stealth is key in this mission – so take Yada, Kanzaki, Chiba and Sugaya. Finally, Muramatsu – you need to lead Group Delta into the town to get supplies. Look as inconspicuous as possible. Take Nagisa, Karma, Hayami and Hara with you,” Karasuma ordered. “I will create a list for you. Everyone else – you will be combing the mountain for other supplies and any signs of the other tentacle person.”   

The class nodded, and began prepping for their respective missions.   

Karasuma handed Muramatsu a list of supplies, including food, batteries, torches and equipment, then Duke dropped groups Alpha and Delta under the ramen shop.   

“Be careful youngsters,” he said. “This is not an easy mission.”  
“We’ve survived worse,” chuckled Yada. “We’ve taken on our teacher.”  

Duke could only smile wistfully as they ascended the ladder and began their missions.   

Chapter Text

Kimura, Kataoka, Okano and Takebayashi left the ramen shop heading northwards towards the old power station. They found a back alley and leapt up to the roof, sprinting and jumping and just moving in the way the land seemed to suggest. The world looked so different from up here, in this world of darkened concrete roofs, sharp, shingled houses and jagged TV antennae.   

“This feels so much better than being cooped up,” grinned Kimura, rolling his shoulders and relaxing into the parkour skills he knew better than he knew the back of his hand. His feet pounded the rough concrete of the office block before pushing off the ledge and flying – soaring over the gap, using the momentum to propel himself to the next building. Landing in a roll, he kept moving, flipping over Okano just for her to slide under him.   

“When they run together, it’s almost like they dance,” chuckled Kataoka.  
“We’re T-minus three minutes from the power line,” Takebayashi said, not gracing Kataoka’s comment with a reply. It didn’t need one – not when Kimura twisted around a satellite dish in one direction, then switched directions to slide under Okano as she cartwheeled over an air duct.  

Up here, the world was theirs to conquer – they were alone, free to let loose and feel the wind rush by. A light spring breeze curled around them, softening their landings and propelling them up and over the gaps between the buildings. Not even a loose shingle could slow them down.  

“We’ve made it.”   

The four skidded along the top of the roof nearest the telegraph pole. The orange beam illuminated the night sky, piercing out from a small metal cylinder hooked to the rest of the pole by a series of wires and a hydraulic.   

Kataoka shrugged the pack she’d brought off her back and laid out the tools they’d brought for the job. Plastic explosive, detonators, charge amplifiers and plenty of tape.  
“Okay – recon. Can we see anyone?”  
“No one in sight Takebayashi. I’d suggest Kimura sets up a snipe position here until we’re ready to detonate and go.”  
“Sounds good Kataoka.” Kimura nodded, clicking together a snipe-gun and sweeping over the surrounding buildings with its scope.  

Okano, Takebayashi and Kataoka all descended down to where the telegraph pole stood.  
“We’ll place two connected charges – one up near the laser-thing, and one near the base of the pole. We want to snap the wires and break the laser.”  
“Got it.” Kataoka grabbed the rungs of the rusted ladder, explosive strapped to her belt, and began to climb. Takebayshi grabbed more of the plastic explosive and stretched it around the pole. Okano wound the tape around the pole, sticking the explosive to the wood, then handed Takebayashi the detonator and amplifier.  

“The amplifying box goes on top of the explosive, and then insert the detonator into the explosive – and the other end into the box. This wire will run back to the detonation plunger so we can detonate from a set distance,” he recited in a hushed whisper, walking himself through the process. With steady hands, he completed his task and began walking backwards, laying out the detonation wire towards the building Kimura was set up atop.   

Kataoka placed her plastic explosive right atop the laser barrel, near the hydraulic. It sat there easily, giving her a chance to grab the tape and wind it around several times. The detonator went in, the charge amplifier was pushed snugly into the plastic explosive with more tape wrapped around it too – and then the detonation wire was unwound, following her down the ladder to plug into the amplifier at the bottom.   

Then she sprinted over to Takebayashi.  
“I’ve set up the plunger. Anyone care to do the honours? As soon as we push, we’ll have two minutes before it goes off.”  
“I’ll press it,” said Kimura. He folded up the collapsible rifle, placed it in his pack, then looked around the group.  
“Is everything packed away?”  
“Yes.”  
“Are we ready to move?”  
“Yes.”  
“Is everything prepared?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then let’s go.” He snapped the rubber glove on his hand taught – and pushed the plunger. Then, he picked it up and flung it as hard as he could, sending it sailing through the air to rest on the wires right above the second charge.  

They ran like bats out of hell. There were no theatrics this time – there was no time for them. Every second felt like a lifetime, every pounding footstep echoed like gunfire. They leapt from building to building, pushing themselves to put as much distance between them and the pole before—  

The explosion rocked the earth. A flash of light, a thunderous noise – and then billowing smoke. The laser went black, the pole crashed to the ground in splinters. The power lines were cut. At once, half the houses in the area went dark – the flickering lights of the buildings in the world below going out. People ran into the streets – some screamed, some shouted for the police, for the fire brigade. Someone was claiming it was Korosensei. Others still ran towards the explosion – to film or to help, not that the four students cared.   

A piece of the barrier wavered, not that anyone was paying attention.  
“Second target?”  
“There’s a water column on the building not far from Muramatsu’s ramen shop that has a laser inside it. Blowing it might be a good idea.”  

And then they were off again, racing across the rooftops.   

***   

As soon as the first detonation went off, Group Beta was at the barrier. A moment of weakness was all they needed to slip through, keeping to the treetops as they dashed for the main campus. This was their home ground – they knew these branches, knew the signs of weakened wood, of the twigs that would snap and the trunks that would creak. They used the freshly grown leaves as camouflage, not stopping until they neared the school building.   

Already trucks filled with troops were being rushed off.  
“Someone’s blown the laser! The barrier could be weakened!” shouted one General, pointing and yelling and practically shoving his troops into their seats.  
“Send these trucks to the other lasers – we cannot allow the barrier to fall!”  
“Is anyone going to the media? An explosion like that cannot be covered up.”  
“We’re working on it. For now, get moving!”  

Itona went first, taking a running leap from the tree to the top of the main campus building. He landed in a roll, using the momentum to get closer to the main air duct. Yada followed, then Kanzaki and Sugaya. Chiba landed last and was instantly setting up his rifle.  
“I’ll scout from up here – I have a 360 on the campus.”  
“Got it,” said Itona. He pulled out his screwdriver and began unscrewing the grate.  
“Kanzaki, Sugaya – you two need to place the cameras and bugs on the other roofs. Yada and I will try and get in there to see if we can hook Ritsu into their system.” The two nodded, and took running leaps for two of the buildings orbiting the main campus building. Yada grabbed onto the grate, easing it off with Itona. They silently placed it down on the roof, and shimmied into the air vent.  

Sugaya and Kanzaki peeled off the back to the bugs and slapped them to the roof. These were specially made bugs, designed to be stuck to the sides of walls and on the underside of cars, and they had a good range thanks to the modifications Itona and Yoshida had added to them. The cameras were fish-eye pieces that they had were easy to tape into place, with the lens hanging over the edge of the building to take in the encampment the army had placed in the courtyard.   

Then, they jumped down onto the corrugated iron roof that covered a walkway from one building to the next. The sound of boots on metal echoed about the school – and their eyes went wide. They flattened themselves against the roof as two torches shone over the courtyard.  
“What was that?”  
“Probably some kind of bird.” A pigeon fluttered by, and the two guards went back to their positions. Sugaya and Kanzaki let out a sigh of relief – and then crawled along the roof before using the windowsill as a ledge to haul themselves up, scaling the wall with expert ease until they reached the roof.  

It was all too easy to repeat the process from the earlier building, and then they were faced with an open window. Shindō stared back at them, before smiling wryly.  
“Tomohito called. I don’t know what you’re doing – and I don’t really care. As long as I get to play against Tomohito again.”  
“You like him,” ribbed Sugaya. Shindō blushed, but didn’t respond. He waved them into the room, and then led them up to the roof.  
“I did my bit – so…”  
“Where do you want to meet him?”  
“The park – you know, the one with the willow tree and the lake? Tomorrow around noon?”  
“No problem,” chuckled Sugaya. Kanzaki smirked – Nakamura was going to love this.  

Kanzaki gave Shindō a hug, and then they were leaping back into the trees. Shindō watched them go, then turned back into the building. Tomohito would have a lot of explaining to do… after everything died down.   

Yada and Itona crawled through the vents, keeping as quiet as possible. The far-away thud of metal distracted the guards, and then they were dropping into an abandoned classroom. They landed on the floor in-between the tables, and rolled into hiding spots.   

One beat. Two beats. No guards, and then they were moving. They raced down the halls, mere shadows on the walls.  
“The main computers will probably be in that tent,” hissed Yada.  
“Good – we head there. You got the cameras and microphone?”  
“Yep.”  
“Good. I got the USB for Ritsu.”  

The main entrance doors were wide open, and muddy boot prints were tracked to all the lockers.  
“Ugh, soldiers,” groaned Yada. “Thank god we don’t have our lockers here.”  
“I thought you weren’t religious?”  
“I study under Bitch-Sensei; you pick up the language eventually.”  

The two moved like water – they slipped behind the tent just as the guards strode back to their posts. An ear to the tent wall revealed a lack of sound. No fingers on clacking keyboards, no voices whispering plans – just the hum of electronics.   

Itona crawled under the tent wall first, wiggling through the little room the canvas gave him. He popped up behind a wall of cases, and lifted the flap to help Yada through.   

“On the tent poles?”  
“Sounds good.”  

They peeked out from behind the cases – nothing. No one. Just computer equipment and weaponry.  
“Must be on skeleton crew for the night shift,” murmured Yada. Itona didn’t reply. He snuck around the cases, then forward rolled over to the nearest computer. Yada rolled her eyes. Theatrics.  

She walked over to the nearest tent pole and hooked the tiny microphone and fish-eye camera to it, then rang the thin wire down the backside of the pole (so it could not be seen from the inside or outside of the tent), then hooked it into one of the many empty power plugs that littered the tent. She headed to the other end of the tent and did the same. At the same time, Itona plugged the USB into the computer. Ritsu popped up on his phone, giving him a thumbs-up.   

And then they were under the tent flap.  
“Around behind?”  
“Yep.”  

They followed the edge of the building, keeping close to the concrete. Chiba’s scope flashed – Itona nodded, and then the flash was gone.   

***   

The water column was easy to get to. It was even easier to rig up. The column itself had been emptied, so Takebayashi climbed up the service ladder and opened the hatch.  
“Just winch the explosive down?” he suggested. Kataoka and Okano nodded. This time, Kimura didn’t set up his sniper this time – they didn’t need to. The explosive and its relay pack were taped together and lowered in using the detonation cord. They didn’t use a plunger this time – just hotwired the thing and ran.  

The second explosion was nowhere near as loud or violent as the first – until the water column bowed, then burst. Wood splintered and flew everywhere – the metal bent and twisted – and the laser was a wreck of molten slag.  
“Perfect – now back to the shop.”  

The barrier wavered again, and the colour began to fade. The three teams homed in on their ‘safety points’ – and then Duke was pulling the shoppers and the saboteurs through the tunnel.   

“Well done youngsters!” he cheered. “That’ll show them!”   

It was a moment of jubilation, even as the deadline hung ominously over their heads.   

Chapter Text

It was exhaustion that sent the students tumbling into their beds, the entire class fast asleep before Karasuma could even do a roll call. He instead had to satisfy himself by checking that each of the teens was in the campsite, before retiring to his tent. Duke stayed awake, eyes focused on some distant spot only he could see.  

“Sodor is so far...” he murmured to himself, almost too quiet to be heard. The only reply he got was a gust of wind, a breeze that seemed to hold Peter Sam’s laughter, Sir Handel’s grumbles and his grins. The red of Karma’s hair had darkened to almost the exact shade of Skarloey’s paintwork over the year, and every time Nagisa smiled it was like looking straight at Rusty. That little smile that hid a keen intelligence.  

“I wonder if they miss me?” Duke asked no one in particular.  
“They probably do,” the ghost engine murmured. “But you’ve made up your mind already.”  
“I had to,” Duke replied, a pensive look crossing his face. “Then again, I don’t expect you to change your stance just because I am having doubts or regrets.”  
“No.” Duke sighed, and turned his gaze back to the panorama of the city that unfolded itself from this point, little glimmering lights in the distance reflected in Duke’s tired old eyes.  

“I suppose I should hope to never see them again, if what I predicted comes to pass. It’ll mean they are safe and happy.” The ghost shot Duke a quick look, then creaked away, joints rattling in the wind and murky liquid dripping from its valves. And then Duke was alone again, the view in front of him dimming as the early hours of the morning gave way to the first rays of the sun.  

With it came a renewed anxiety, the students crowding around Ritsu’s screen, awaiting the morning news.  
“There was nothing about our sabotage!” spluttered Terasaka. “We worked so hard on that.”  
“We knew this would happen,” Nagisa soothed. “The government’s covering up the attacks to keep the public calm. Imagine the mass-hysteria that would come from admitting the explosions damaged the barrier keeping ‘the monster’ on the mountain.”  
“And have we gotten anything from the bugs we planted?” asked Yada.  
“We have a lot of data,” Itona said. “But most of it is either heavily encrypted or about the repairs needed. I haven’t gotten a timeline yet.”  
“Damnit!” Terasaka slammed his fist into the wall, then grabbed Itona and slung him over one shoulder. “I’m borrowing Itona for a bit.” He stalked away, a blushing Itona hanging limp.  

“Now that’s an idea...” mused Karma.  
“Try it and you won’t be able to walk for a month,” Nagisa said, smiling brightly. The other students all took a big step back. Still, the pair wandered off together a little later, and by the time they returned they looked very ruffled, a plethora of bruises decorating their necks. Terasaka and Itona didn’t look much better – and surprising, neither did Sugino.  

“Where’d your bruises come from?” asked Nakamura knowingly. Sugino blushed and mumbled a name. Kanzaki leaned forward.  
“What was that?” she asked.  
“I’m not repeating it,” grumbled Sugino.  
“Yes, you are!” sing-songed Okano and Kurahashi together.  

Sugino just blushed and wandered away.   

***  

Duke gathered the students that evening just after dinner, getting them all to sit around him as a campfire flickered in the background. Irina and Karasuma dragged over chairs for themselves, flopping into them with little propriety. The afternoon had been busy, a training game spanning the entire mountain draining every one of their energies.  

“I want to actually tell the story of how I was found – because last time you lot derailed me by asking about death. Such morbid youngsters.” The students all shot Duke incredulous looks, and Duke cleared his throat, blushing slightly. “It all began after the 100 th birthday celebration for Skarloey and Rheneas…”   

***   

The birthday celebrations for Skarloey and Rheneas were over – but Peter Sam was still unhappy. He kept on saying that the real Duke never came.  
“Rubbish!” said Duncan. “Of course he was real.”  
“All the same,” Peter Sam persisted. “He wasn’t our Duke.”  
“Our Duke,” said Sir Handel, “was an engine.”  
“You’re as bad as he is,” snapped Duncan. “All engine Dukes were scrapped – ask Duck.”  
“Duck doesn’t know everything,” Skarloey put in quietly. “Tell him about us you two.”  

Peter Sam and Sir Handel told the other Skarloey Railway engines about their fondest memories of Duke. You see, after they had been sold, they ended up on the Skarloey Railway, where they were given the names Sir Handel (Falcon) and Peter Sam (Stuart).   

The stories began to spread. Mr Hugh (who maintained the engines) overheard the engines, and told the Thin Controller, who told the owner of the railway, who told His Grace, Sir Robert Norramby. They told the Small Controller, whose new railway was built on the old railway, and then all of them contacted the Thin Clergyman, who wrote the Railway Series, and his friend and photographer, the Fat Clergyman.   

Thus, one morning, the Thin Controller, Sir Robert Norramby, the Small Controller and the two Clergymen were all looking at maps in Sir Robert’s office.  
“Our railway,” said the Small Controller, “is laid on the bed of the old Mid Sodor Railway – but it swings round to south at the road at the end of Arlesdale village. The old line kept straight on. It went North of the village, and then into the mountains.”  
“Look, here is the old workshop!” exclaimed Sir Robert.  

“If Duke’s anywhere, he’s there.”   

The Clergymen, Sir Robert and the Small Controller headed out to search for Duke. They spent days and days in the area around the Old Station. They came up to the end of the road on a morning train and returned in the evening with nothing except scratches and torn clothes. They wouldn’t give up though.   

“Duke’s somewhere,” they said. They scrambled over hills and struggled over ditches.   

The Fat Clergyman found him in the end, and on the day that Sir Robert was busy with paperwork too. Scrambling over a hillock, he stepped on something which wasn’t there, crashed through a hole, and landed legs astride on Duke’s saddle tank.   

***   

The boys all shuddered.   

“Ouch,” whimpered Okajima.  
“Why?” groaned Sugaya.  
“That’s just how he landed,” huffed Duke. “He shouted ‘Our Sleeping Beauty himself!’ The Thin Clergyman and the Small Controller peeped through the hole above. ‘Excuse me,’ I inquired. ‘Are you a vandal? Driver told me vandals break in and smash things.’…”  

“You didn’t!” gasped Karma. “Granpuff!” He broke off into peals of laughter.  
“I’d been down there near thirty years. Did you expect me to be coherent?”  
“We expected you to cheer, not make witty remarks!” Kataoka exclaimed. Duke blushed.  
“I feel as though the rest of this story will do me no justice then…”  

***   

The Fat Clergyman ruefully felt his bruises.  
“Bless you, no!” he laughed. “I’m quite respectable. I dropped in because I, well, couldn’t find your door.” He told Duke about Peter Sam (Stuart) and Sir Handel (Falcon).  
“So they did remember,” said Duke softly. “Then,” he went on, louder, “does His Grace approve?”  
“Yes, he’s coming to see you!”  
“To see me? How kind. And I’m all dirty. That’ll never do – please clean me!”  

***   

“Nooooo! Granpuff why?” gasped Nagisa. Half the class was barely breathing, they were laughing so hard. Ren was holding himself together the best.  
“You never cease to amaze,” he chuckled. “I remember when you first told me this story.”  
“I remember you asking me ten times to repeat that line,” Duke grumbled. Gakushuu fell sideways laughing, landing in Ren’s lap.  
“You really did that?!” he giggled, gazing up at his boyfriend.  
“I did,” sighed Ren. “And I was seven at the time.”  

“They did clean me,” Duke said when the laughing died down. “When Sir Robert came, I was the cleanest in the shed. I could barely believe my eyes then – I knew those eyes so well. His father had brought him down to the railway almost every day when he was a baby, and the war began, and they dragged the boy to England at the ripe young age of two to ‘protect him’. No wonder he didn’t remember me.”   

He got a class's worth of sympathetic glances for that.   

“Anyway, they loaded me onto a lorry, then onto a train, and then finally I was reunited with Sir Handel and Peter Sam. I was repaired at the workshops and put back into steam. And I’ve never stopped working since.”   

“There’s more to the story than that, but I’ll let it slide,” Ren said, hopping up. “Now, it’s getting late, I’m heading to bed. Tomorrow’s supposed to be a big day.”  
“I’ll whistle to wake you all up,” Duke promised. “You all should get some sleep. And Karma?”  
“Yes Granpuff?”  
“Different tent to Nagisa.”  
“Aww…”  
“I want you to sleep, and poor Nagisa’s neck already looks like it’s been attacked.” Karma smirked – but went into a different tent.  

Duke waited patiently for them all to fall asleep, then set to work.   

***   

Shinigami glared at the orange hues of the barrier.  
“Impossible to get out, impossible to get in…” he murmured. He strode back to the small campsite he’d set up on the far side of the mountain. He walked unsteadily, the ‘legs’ he’d forced his tentacles to create still unused to the strain he was putting them through.  

The little campsite was worse for wear. The tent was little more than a tarp strung up between two trees, with flaps held closed by frayed rope. The ground in front had been cleared, and a meagre fire burned in the firepit that Shinigami had built, digging into the earth with his tentacles slowly. He couldn’t bear to use them the way that Yanagisawa intended. There were supplies snatched from 3E littered about the place – an esky held food, a cooler bottle was filled with water.   

“I… I don’t want to die yet,” Shinigami said quietly, gazing up at the sky.   

“Then don’t. Kill the octopus, and you’ll be free.”  
“You!” Shinigami spun round, glaring at the man who had turned him into this. A tentacle monster. A wreck. A shell. A husk of his former self.  

Yanagisawa grinned at his experiment, and stepped forwards.  
“You still can’t touch me. Shame. Now, cease this pathetic independence attempt. You had your shot, you screwed it up. You came to me, and I remade you. Look at you now – look at how powerful you are! And yet, you run. What, you think that your former teacher cares?”  

Shinigami paused, looking away. Yanagisawa smirked, and took another step forwards.  
“Remember what he did to you? When did he ever care?”  
“Duke did.”  
“I beg your pardon?” Yanagisawa took a step back. “Who cares?”  
“Duke does. He’s always cared.”  
“What? The steam engine? Shinigami, steam engines are machines. They do not feel. They never have, never will. Steam engines are harsh beings, and they are almost completely wiped out. Do not be fooled by his words – he doesn’t care. He wants a pawn. He wants to be safe. He rejected you, remember?”  

“No... no, I betrayed him first.”  
“He’s the Informant – he is obliged to cater to the current Reaper, no matter what.”  
“Stop talking Yanagisawa. Stop it. Your words mean nothing!”  
“Do their words mean something then?”  

***   

Duke pulled up at the edge of the pool. The water had defrosted and was now filled with blossoms.   

“I’m not really religious,” he murmured, staring down into the water. “I’ve lived far too long to believe. But... now I pray. I pray that this ends well, I pray that Ryushi and Shinigami are saved. I pray that the students, every last one of them, lives a full and happy life. I wish and I hope that when this is over, they will go and see St— no, Peter Sam and Sir Handel, and tell them that I will always be their Granpuff. I accept that it’s all going to be near impossible to achieve – and yet, I still pray that it does.”   

“You are becoming sentimental in your old age. I have information: the army will be firing its weapon tomorrow night.”   

Duke sighed, letting off steam and watching it drift away in the wind.  
“Thank you. I will wake them tomorrow morning and tell our story. After that, let’s pray that this works.”  
“The mechanic spent months on it. It will work.” Duke looked over, and his eyes softened.  
“And then you will finally have me. I hope you are ready.” The eyes grinned, and then Duke was alone again.  

Chapter Text

Morning dawned over Kunugigaoka Junior High School, bringing with it no sense of ease. The first rays of sunlight stretched out over the mountain, waking the groggy students and dragging them from their sleeping bags. Okuda was one of the first to rouse, stretching every joint in her body before forcing herself over to where several of the scientists were huddled around the campus coffee machine, knocking back cups of strong, black coffee.  

“Mornin’,” one mumbled, rubbing sleep out of her eyes with one hand and sipping at her cup with the other.  
“Guten Morgen,” another said, pouring the bitter brew beside their mug and onto the table. “Oh... Scheiße.”  
“You’re speaking in German again,” huffed Takebayashi. “Honestly, it’s too late.”  
“Early,” corrected Okuda. “Your shift’s over then?” Takebayashi nodded, a quiet smile forming on his exhausted features.  
“Yeah - I still can’t believe we get to do this. I used a CyberKnife Dr Bartolome Oliver touched!” Okuda squeaked excitedly – Dr Bartolome Oliver was one of the best neurosurgeons of their time, and to hear his equipment was on site was a dream come true.  

Almost two long days of nonstop surgery on Korosensei’s brain had done a number on the CERN scientists and their associates. The antimatter was malicious in the same manner cancer was, each moment a threat to Korosensei’s survival. The tissue came apart easily – if you messed up. That was the true threat. Every movement had to be slow, steady and precise. The cancerous antimatter had to be slowly reverted to its original state, a process that was in all honesty rather tedious.  

It certainly took long enough.  

Several of the world’s best antimatter, neuroscience, anatomy and physics professors, doctors and researchers littered the surgery tent, checking over each move of their tools with the utmost precision.  
“So let me get this straight: you want me to put the patient near the flatline?” quizzed one of the doctors, horrified.  
“Yes, it must be so,” replied the antimatter expert. “From the research we have done, the best method for reverting tissue to its original state is to limit the blood flow and then rewrite the DNA of the cell.”  
“Why not simply divert the bloodstream? It is a safer option at this stage,” offered the anatomy professor. Kurahashi hummed, staring at the latest challenge the group was facing: a hard exoskeletal shell had formed around part of the frontal lobe to protect the antimatter from being tampered with.  

“It’s a lot like an insect’s shell,” she murmured. The nearest doctor raised an eyebrow.  
“What?”  
“The weird exoskeleton thing – it's just like the shell on a stag beetle. If I’m right, there ought to be a point where we can manipulate the shell open...” Kurahashi pointed at the digital mock-up of the brain, and the odd exoskeletal shell, “... meaning we can simply slide it off and treat the frontal lobe the same way we treated everything else. Alternatively, we can work around this area, complete the rest of the brain, and then use the stem-cell research that was being done on the Hydra viridissima to energise the regular cells to attack the antimatter. Doing that should balance the brain, and restart senescence!”  
“I’m not sure that works...”  
“She’s not far off though!” grinned one of the anatomists. “The regular matter should overrun the antimatter if there is enough of it and the antimatter can’t reproduce because we’ve tampered with its regenerative cycle. We can then treat any leftover clumps of antimatter like a tumour and remove it.”  
“And if we do leave the exoskeletal structure in place, we lower the risk of the frontal lobe being damaged during the remainder of the operation,” added one of the physicists.  

It was a slow process. Kurahashi was right about the odd protective shell being like that of an insect, and the scientists quickly used it to their advantage, using Okuda’s knowledge on Korosensei’s antimatter properties to help them through the process of converting the somatosensory association area of the Parietal lobe back into regular matter. But they were nearly finished, and an undercurrent of excitement punctuated every moment.  

Outside the tent, the other students did their best not to watch the surgery, several playing cards on an old oil drum while the others exercised, read or talked.  
“Got any nines?”  
“Go fish.”  
“Damnit.”  

Gakushuu looked up from his novel to shoot an unimpressed glare at Ren.  
“Dear, I am trying to read.”  
“Darling, genius beam, light of my life and orange of my eye,” Ren replied poetically, “I apologise most humbly. But I know that sneak Hara has nines, and I will be vindicated!”  
“I have no nines,” deadpanned Hara, trying her best not to laugh. She didn’t have any nines – they had coincidentally fallen into Karma’s hands. Karma, who was not playing the game, and was instead plotting out his next prank spree in his notebook. They would be amazing: with Nagisa’s terrifying abilities at his side, Karma would be unstoppable!  

“Ren, dear, say that to me again and I will strangle you and leave you out for the animals and ghosts of the mountain,” Gakushuu said darkly, not even looking up from the page. Ren snorted but left his boyfriend alone and went back to playing his game.  

Kimura set up a string of fabrics at one end of the oval, stepping aside to let Hayami and Chiba duel, the pair firing shots at the empty cans and racing to puncture them through the bullseye. They were not using cans, the way they usually would, due to the surgery happening not too far away. Too loud of a noise would wreck all their careful planning, their sabotage and vandalism and trespassing and everything else they had done to save their sensei.  

So instead, they shot at the fabrics that flew in the wind. On the plus side, such difficult targets made for better practice, and the pair were matched almost shot-for-shot throughout their impromptu contest.  

The knitting circle was sat around the campfire, the rhythmic clack of the needles interspersed only with the occasional yelp of pain from Muramatsu, who just couldn’t for the life of him stop poking himself in the thumb with his knitting needle.  
“No, no, no. Dude! I told you, push the needle into the loop to make the new stitch!” groaned Terasaka, yanking the strip of wool out of Muramatsu’s hands and running through several stitches for him, going extra slowly and repeating the steps rather blatantly. Itona did his best not to giggle at his boyfriend’s antics.  

Each member of the knitting circle was putting together a stripe for Korosensei’s blanket, with Hara promising to teach them crochet after her card game so they could pull the parts together into a final product. It was going to be yellow, black and forest green, and the group were very excited about completing it.  

Out on the very outskirts of the oval, where the first trees stood as the bulwark against the cleared land; Nagisa, Kayano and Sugino played catch. It was such a simple thing, but it felt right.  
“Can you believe how far we’ve come?” asked Nagisa. He threw the ball to Kayano, grinning as he flicked his head to one side and felt a few strands of his cropped-back hair flop over on themselves, before naturally falling back into place.  
“It’s crazy,” agreed Kayano, catching the baseball with her leather glove. “Remember when I made that giant pudding for Korosensei to eat?”  
“That was so insane!” laughed Sugino. “It was massive! Oh, oh – do you remember when I tried to kill Korosensei by throwing a baseball at him?”  
“Yes!” grinned Nagisa. “He caught it so easily; it was kind of painful.”  
“Oh, or the time we dealt with that insane army instructor. What was his name...?”  
“Who cares!” snorted Sugino. “Why should we remember his name anyway? He was an asshole and a fool. I’m amazed he managed to stay in the army that long.”  
“He was pretty bad,” Nagisa murmured, a little more subdued.  
“Oh right... he was after your head, wasn’t he?” Kayano looked a bit guilty, catching the ball thrown to her with a frown.  

Nagisa didn’t reply for a moment.  
“He’s been dealt with though,” Nagisa eventually said. “And that’s all that matters. I am in a much better place than when I started. I live with Karma and Gakushuu, I have more friends in Class E than I think I’ve ever had before, and I’ve learnt so much! Next year we’re going to the Island of Sodor to learn at the academy there! I... even if we do fail, I think that this year has been incredible and so worth every moment.”  
“Agreed,” the other two chorused, smiling knowingly at one another. Nagisa could be so bashful sometimes, but he was right. The class had grown exponentially throughout the year, under Korosensei, and Kurasuma Sensei, and Bitch-sensei and Duke.  

The sun ticked on, stretching up to midday, and casting its rays down on a small siding hidden out of the way high in the hills. There, Duke sat, looking forlorn.  
“I suppose I must,” he whispered. “I have procrastinated long enough already.” With a sigh of steam, the old engine clanked away towards the class. He left behind a large patch of flaked rust that was carried away on a cool spring breeze.  

Chapter Text

Duke gathered the students and teachers around him. He took a deep breath. It was already a bit past midday, but he hadn’t been able to gather the courage – even standing there made him feel ill, his firebox feeling colder than it ever had and his steam escaping in short, breathy bursts.  
“I think, it is high time I address the sightings recently.” There was a quiet murmur from the crowd of students, with Hazama breaking through it eventually.  
“It’s a ghost, isn’t it,” said Hazama. It was not a question.  
“It’s that engine from your story about the Sudrian Revolt, isn’t it?” added Karma. Duke looked between the two and sighed.  
“Yes,” the old engine admitted with raw pain gritting his throat. “His name was Albert.”  

***   

Albert was bought by the Mid Sodor Railway from a workshop in England – and he held many of the attitudes of the English of the time. He was a rough-riding engine, with a worse attitude. When Arlesdale burnt, he was in Peel Godred. He returned to chaos. Rioting, pillaging… horrors. There was no kindness. It… it was horrific.   

After the revolt, the number of orphans in the area skyrocketed.   

Duke was forced to watch every moment of the revolt, unable to run, to hide. He was an engine, and he was forced to keep to his rails, no matter how much he wished to fight it. There were moments when Duke felt sick to his frames, and they only got worse. Because, in the evening, Albert would boast.   

“They got thirty of the blighters yesterday!” he cheered one morning. “Mowed them down with their guns. Serves them right – how dare they attack their superiors!”  
“How dare you speak so horribly about people,” hissed Duke. Albert went to retort; but was interrupted by the Manager. He looked sombre; his eyes ringed in black. His coat was ruffled, and he held an empty bottle in one hand.  
“The Army is sending in a battalion of soldiers to suppress the revolt. They have ‘asked’ that our railway bring them into the valley from the harbour. This is top secret, not a word to the public.”  
“Can I pull it? Please sir? Let me!” Albert exclaimed, ecstatic.  
“Duke?”  
“I will have nothing to do with it,” scowled Duke. “If anything, let me stay in a mine for the time being – I cannot stand this anymore.” The manager just nodded with a sigh.  

With that, Duke steamed away.  

The Duke of Sodor at the time was a man named Sir John Norramby. He had only recently been restored to his title by Queen Victoria, and the revolt was threatening both his position in parliament and in society over on the mainland. Though, that was more because he supported the rebellion rather than the British.   

It was raining bitterly, but he still braved the storm to see his namesake.  
“Are you alright?” asked His Grace.  
“No sir, I just can’t stand this! Why can’t you do anything?”  
“I tried,” sighed Sir John. “But I was overruled. All I can hope for is that the sight of the military gets the violence to end.” But after he said that, he went a little glassy-eyed, gazing off into the distance for a little before humming, and striding away.  

The next day, Albert came snorting into the mine. Duke had just been speaking to Sir John again.   
“You are pathetic – this riot’s all about to end when I bring in the troops!”  
“Don’t tell anyone, or you’ll paint a target on your back,” warned Duke. Albert just laughed.  
“I’m a steam engine, what can a human do?”  

With that, he steamed away. He didn’t spot the furious faces of the native Sudrian workers glaring at him as he went. Amongst them was the original Reaper.  

***   

“So… the original Reaper was a miner?”  
“No. The original Reaper was not one of the miners. But he was there, and Albert’s words were the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak.”  

***   

The night before the army was due to arrive, Duke was dozing in the mine when he heard footsteps. He opened a sleepy eye, and spotted a man dressed all in black, standing by the dynamite. In those days, the mines had only just started using dynamite, and were still unsure how to store it. Their best answer was often a tarpaulin somewhere on site – an easy target for thieves.   

Except, this wasn’t a thief. It was… Sir John. He looked up, and sighed, a grim look on his face.   

“I’m going to do something bad tomorrow, Duke. I am going to play judge, jury and executioner with people I do not know, and I am going to end this revolt.”  
“You’re going to be a Reaper?” asked Duke, naïve in so many ways and only barely able to comprehend what his Grace meant.  
“I… suppose I am,” Sir John replied. He patted Duke on the buffer. “Never tell anyone what you saw tonight. For our sakes.”  

Duke quietly agreed.   

The morning brought more bad news. A train loaded with lead needed taking to the harbour; apparently industry didn’t stop for the worst revolt in Sudrian history.

“But sir!” Duke exclaimed. “Today’s the day!”  
“I know,” sighed the manager. “But it needs to be delivered, and Albert won’t do it.”  

With a heavy sigh, Duke rolled away.   

Albert had collected all the coaches on the Mid-Sodor Railway for the Battalion. His train was massive, and the centre of attention. He’d been boasting about it for days, loudly and in public. Everyone knew about the ‘secret’ train.   

The soldiers boarded, and Albert heaved the heavy train out of the station. He snorted his way up the hill and out of the port. It was hard work, and Albert was concentrating on keeping himself from stalling.   

After the port, there was a stretch of line just before Arlesdale where the line climbed steeply before reaching a small passing loop and then rolling into the station. It was on an embankment that had been made from loose dirt and stone – a cheap shortcut taken when the line was built.   

The stolen dynamite was partially buried in the loose dirt and stone or hidden amongst the sleepers and ballast.   

Duke approached from the other end, stopping in a small passing loop just up the line to wait for the troop train. A whistle blasted. Albert snorted into view; his face red as he heaved the heavy train along. One moment, he was there – the next…  

Sir John, laying on a small cliff overlooking the line, shot his rifle. He hit a stick of dynamite. Albert exploded, alongside much of his train. The back portion rolled back, flying out of control and derailing further down. It burst into flame, and everyone aboard was killed almost instantly. Others were charred to death by the flames or skewered by flying wood. It was a bloodbath.  

***   

Duke was practically in tears.  
“My… my fireman… he was always so kind-hearted… he… he… he ran forwards to help… and then… And then another stick went off, and he was blown to bits. The troops certainly did end the violence, only… not in the way Albert was expecting. Both the Sudrians and the English were horrified at the destruction. Sir John declared it had been the work of extremists – and I said I’d seen figures at the mine. The people of the valley rallied together and found the ‘extremists’, arresting them. They were tried and sent to the UK to be punished. The government repealed the laws, and the towns were given back their old names. His Grace paid for most of the reconstruction of the valley himself, including dozens of houses and the railway. He almost bankrupted himself, but said it was the least he could do.”  

Duke looked around him at the stunned faces. Night had fallen, the story taking far longer than the old engine predicted. He barely registered the shift, his entire world narrowed down to the students in front of him and the memories flashing through his mind.  
“The first Reaper… he was... Sir John...”  

“It wasn’t the end of it though. After that, he told me he would use his abilities to help the oppressed. He went all around the world, making connections and assassinating colonists. He never targeted the English again though. Felt too ashamed of what he had done. Of the crime he had committed against his fellow countrymen. He used me as a fixed point, and the connections he made came to me with information. I became the Informant, and… His Grace handed the title of Reaper to a whip-smart Colonial from New Zealand. I became the fixed point for that Reaper, and the tradition began. And the ghost...”  
“What a fascinating story!” The students turned, finding Korosensei sitting up weakly on a gurney. But it wasn’t him who spoke. “Now, I believe we don’t have much time.” There was no one there – but still, Duke responded.  

“Right. Get him on the flatbed – we’re going.” Duke blasted his whistle and shunted the coach and flatbed in front of him. The students, teachers and scientists clambered in, and then they were moving.   

A bullet hit Duke as he moved, and Duke grit his teeth.  
“Look out!” he shouted. The students grabbed their guns and fired out of the open sides of the coach. The phantom gunman hit Duke again, and steam began to leak.  

“Damnit,” hissed Duke. He screwed on his brakes, but the coach and flatbed kept on rolling.   

“Get them as far from here as you can!” he shouted. The shape of an engine appeared where Duke had been. He had glowing red eyes, skin ripped from his face – and a twisted metal nameplate that said ‘Albert’.   

“On it, Granpuff.”   

The students were frozen with fear as the demonic ghost blasted out a cloud of thick, grey smoke. They raced along the old line, watching as the shape of the old engine who’d been their teacher grew smaller and smaller. He shot them one last look, then with an almighty effort began to steam back up the line, gunshots echoing out around him. Steam screamed out of a bullethole, but it didn’t stop the old engine. The ghostly figure pushing the little train didn’t stop either, racing through the undergrowth with blood-red smoke pouring out of its funnel. Branches scraped by the carriage roof. High above, the laser began to shift towards its firing position.  

“This is madness!” roared Terasaka. “What are you doing?!”  
“Getting you out of here,” the ghostly figure replied. The shed appeared ahead, the train speeding along to meet it before screeching to a stop perfectly on the platform. Suddenly were descending downwards into the tunnel.  
“What about Duke?!” burst out Kurahashi. “We can’t leave him!”  
“Duke’s time on this earth is coming to a close. He has one last duty to complete, and then the scales of heaven and hell will weigh his soul.”  
“We need to stop this!” shouted Nagisa.  
“But how?”  
“We need to get back there. Drag Duke here by hand if we have to. What is he doing?!”  

Chapter Text

Duke sped up the line, flakes of rust falling off of him and vanishing away in the wind. He grit his teeth, willing himself to keep going. He steamed into the main campus, and above him the laser began to hum. The campus was eerily silent, the tents standing abandoned on the oval with their shadows dancing in the wind. The darkness seemed to envelop the world around the little campus, the inky blackness of the trees hiding everything in amongst them. Even still, Duke could pick out one silhouette that did not belong.  

“Yanagisawa! Show yourself!”  
“You were always too clever for the rest of us,” sneered Yanagisawa, stepping out from beyond the tree line. Behind him, burled up and squirming, was Shinigami. He was tied up with a rope made of anti-Korosensei material, and smoke was beginning to rise off his skin.  
“What did you do?” snarled Duke.  
“Not much, just tied up some loose ends. The laser will fire soon, Granpuff, and you will be helpless to stop it from killing your beloved student. Such a shame.”  
“The shame lies with you,” hissed Duke. Duke paused, looking back at his cab with a look somewhere between confusion and realisation. “Ah... I see. Then it’s up to you.”  

A dark, shadowy figure stepped down from Duke’s cab. Yanagisawa cocked his head, trying to see something that wasn’t there.   

“What is this? A trick of the light? You should know such things mean nothing.”  
“Not a trick of the light,” Duke replied. “A dark truth.”  

The figure stalked forwards. Yanagisawa pulled out a gun and fired it at the shadow. The bullets hit the figure, then deformed, melting into it and helping it materialise into a person. The person held a thin rapier in his hand, which began to form into steel. Yanagisawa gaped. He took a quick step back; Shinigami flung out a weakened tentacle. Yanagisawa fell backwards. The figure reached out and grabbed Shinigami, flinging him over by Duke. The ropes fell loose, and Shinigami sprang up.   

“Go! You know where the shed is – don't gape, I know you well enough youngster. Get as far from here as you can!” hissed Duke. Shinigami wavered, staring at Duke and the shadowy figure, seeing the flakes of rust peeling off of Duke’s boiler, tearing up his spotless paint and revealed aged steel hidden beneath.  
“But what about you?”  
“Don’t you dare worry about me now. Get out of here!” Shinigami nodded, and dashed away, using his tentacles to race over the ground towards the underground exit.  

Duke, Yanagisawa and the figure were alone. The figure swung his sword. Yanagisawa dodged, leaping to the side.  
“What are you doing?!” he exclaimed. “What are you?” The figure swung again. Yanagisawa leapt out of the way again. The figure swung, Yanagisawa dodged. They began to head towards Duke.  

“Stop toying with him!” snapped Duke. “I have one last run left, and I want to make it a good one.” The darkened figure shed the ink-black cloak, revealing himself to be Sir John Norramby. Duke took a deep breath, and waited – poised.  
“Fine.” Metal bars snapped into place on one side of Duke, and the ghostly figure of the former Earl of Sodor grasped Yanagisawa by his shirt and flung him into Duke’s cab. The remainder of the trap snapped shut, iron bars rolling into place and trapping the enraged scientist in Duke’s cab. Duke groaned into movement, more rust flaking off of him as he jolted forwards, picking up speed.  

“One last run, better make it a good one,” Duke said, his voice resigned.  
“What do you mean, one last run?! What are you doing? Goddamnit Duke, this is illegal!”  
“So is kidnapping and experimenting on someone,” Duke retorted. He continued to pick up speed, until he was swaying and rocking violently.  

“You’re going to kill us both!” yowled Yanagisawa. “Stop this madness!”  
“I know,” replied Duke sombrely. “I accompanied the first Reaper at the start of his dynasty, and now I shall stand as the last Reaper. The end of an era.” Ahead stood the trestle bridge. Duke picked up speed, blasting out smoke and steam and sparks. One lit the fuse to the dynamite Takebayashi had laid under the bridge. Duke kept thundering along. The fuse wore down. Yanagisawa grabbed for Duke’s controls, pulling and ripping at them maniacally. Duke’s brakes screamed, then the lever slid back into place, and Duke sped forwards again. Duke winced, steam escaping out of his ruined pipes and blowing back into the cab.  

“Stop!” roared Yanagisawa, slamming at the controls. “Stop! Stop!” Yanagisawa leapt back as more steam billowed in, holding up his arms to try and desperately protect his face. The rust was now flaking off Duke, stripping away his paint and brass. Steam began to leak, and Duke closed his eyes. He grit his teeth, and took a deep breath.   

“Goodbye, youngsters,” he whispered. The trestle bridge ahead exploded, and then Duke steamed onto it, steam bursting from every crack in his boiler. His fire blazed brightly, and then he was falling.   

He hit the water and rocks, metal tearing off him and scraping against the river floor. Splintered wood pierced through his boiler and cab. Water washed straight through him, freezing cold and seeping into every joint. Yanagisawa was thrown against the controls, skewered on one of the many levers, then left to drown as the water rose higher. Duke closed his eyes slowly, feeling the life slowly drain away from him…   

***   

Duke was in a blank, white place. It had no beginning and no end – it was just white. Everywhere. From one end of this world to the other, with no walls or floors or ceilings or anything. No rails. Just... Duke. Duke couldn’t feel the torn metal and ripped cylinders. He couldn’t feel his destroyed boiler, couldn’t feel the steam escaping. He was whole. And yet it was devoid of any feeling.  

The world was just… empty.   

“Hello, Dukie.”   

Duke looked around. Ahead of him, stood Stanley.  
“Hello Stanley. It is nice to see you again.”  
“Is it really? You hated me.”  
“I never hated you Stanley. I hated the way you spoke to me, and I hated your attitude. But I never hated you.” Stanley just rolled his eyes, but Duke knew better. He knew Stanley well enough – when he was alive – to know that the red engine had always wanted some kind of affirmation. But instead, he’d brought damnation upon himself.  

“The scales of fate will weigh your life now. Follow me.”   

Stanley began to roll backwards, and Duke followed him, unsure how he was able to move while being unable to feel his controls. The two wandered through the silent whiteness with unending silence. It crushed Duke, pressed into him, threatening to buckle his boiler and drag him into the eerily nothingness beneath him. Stanley didn’t seem all that affected – though he had been up... down... here, wherever here was.  

Rails appeared on the nothingness ahead, and Duke rolled onto them, coming to a rest at the buffers. Above him stood a figure cloaked in a jet-black robe; a long scythe stood tall by his side.  
“Come forwards, Duke the Lost Engine of Sodor.” Duke raised an eyebrow. He was in no way lost anymore – that was a moniker given by the Reverend, all those years ago. The figure ploughed on, not stopping to correct the odd mistake.  

“You are accused of more than two thousand counts of accessory to murder, aiding and abetting assassins and other threats to your local government and international law – and of enacting revenge and pain on others. Your defence stands with your actions to defend oppressed minorities, work to abscond those attacked and pursued by the forces of evil and your treatment of those you teach. We shall now hear from those affected by your actions, while your soul is removed and prepared for weighing.”   

Duke agreed grimly as Stanley rolled up beside him. A shadowy figure in the same flowing robes as the judge with the scythe stepped up, reaching with bony fingers into Duke’s boiler, hand ghosting through the metal. Duke did not shiver, even as chills radiated out from the spot.   

Stanley glared over at Duke, and the trial began.   

“It all began after the war. I was sold to the Mid Sodor Railway by the War Department to help with goods traffic. I was a go—I was a go—Why am I unable to speak?!”  
“Fate demands that you are honest and truthful during your confession. You may not lie nor ‘stretch the truth.’ Try again.”  
“I was a difficult engine. I had been badly converted, and the war only worsened my attitude. I was angry at everything, and it showed. I derailed, I crashed. I have no shame in that. But Duke never asked why. He only demanded I work better. He wanted me to be perfect when I couldn’t even control my own wheels! Never in my working life was I given a fair chance. No one checked to see my gauge, no one questioned my crew or my pain. And then they ripped my wheels away and left me to rot!”  

“You insulted the manager by swearing at him to his face!” Duke snapped. “You called our railway a ‘hell-hole’ and said that the traumatised soldiers working on the line were ‘lily-livered Princesses’ because they dealt with their trauma in a healthy manner! You wanted a fair chance? You never tried for it! All you ever did was moan and complain and cause accidents and blame everyone else! You treated me like garbage because I was old, you treated the manager like garbage because he was Sudrian – you want honesty, well: I never asked about your conversion because I knew – and I asked the manager to check on multiple occasions. But you never learnt manners, and so he never bothered.” Stanley reared back, eyes wide at the scathing judgement wrought by the old engine.  
“I... I... but...”  
“Don’t think me or fate incompetent Stanley,” growled Duke. “You sealed your own fate, and you’re a fool not to know it.”  

The cloaked judge raised his scythe, and then Stanley was gone, replaced by a woman wearing a tichel and a patched dress that went down to just below her knees. Her shoes were flat, and her brow was creased with age.   

“Speak now.”  
“I was a refugee that Duke helped to abscond from Germany through one of the tunnels that led to Poland, Austria, France and later Switzerland and Sweden. There were thirty of us in my community that needed to escape, and he arranged it all. We were just a few of many. The tunnels were small, yes – but they were long and vented and they kept us all alive. He used his contacts for our benefit. He managed to send us to America. Duke saved our lives. He ensured that we made it to America, that we had a home. My great grandchildren thrive because this engine believed in our cause when no one else would. Thank you, Duke.”  
“It was the least I could do,” murmured Duke. “I just wish there was more I could’ve done.”  

The judge went silent, then moved his scythe. The woman vanished, and in her place stood…   

Chapter Text

Shinigami raced along the line. Already, he could practically hear the laser charging up.  
“Why did I let him near me?!” he cursed, flinging himself through the trees. He found the shed and slammed its doors shut behind him, descending into the earth. Then he was racing along again, flying through the tunnel. High above, the laser began to hum menacingly. It glowed, it thrummed with energy. The sun hit it – and it fired. Bang on midnight.  

Shinigami leapt across the safety line as the laser hit the ground behind him. It pierced through the soil and deep into the core of the earth, eradicating all traces of tentacle matter in its path. The former assassin-turned tentacle monster stood up, stretching out his tentacles. Then, he began to laugh hysterically.   

“I’m alive! What the fuck? I… why didn’t I attack Ryushi?”  
“Because even after all this time, you know he means everything to you.”   

Shinigami looked around for the source of the voice – but no figure came forward to claim the words. They hung ominously in the air, before dissolving with a powerful beam of light.   

“It’s the Reaper!” called a voice. Shinigami shielded his eyes and gazed down the line. Karma stood on the flatbed, shining the torch along the line. Korosensei – no, Korogane Ryushi – stood behind the redhead, fretting over the fact that said redhead was just standing on a moving flatbed, and not holding on at all and what if he fell off and hurt himself or worse?!  

It was all of 3-E and their teachers.   

“Hands up,” growled Karasuma.  
“I think you mean tentacles,” muttered Yada.  
“I give up. But Duke… I think he’s…”  
“We have to go back for him!”  
“We need to take this one into custody,” argued Karasuma. “Duke’s a clever engine – he’s not as stupid as you lot can be.”  
“He’s running a suicide mission with Yanagisawa in his cab,” Shinigami supplied.  
“Forget what I just said, Duke’s an idiot.”  

“Besides,” Korogane Ryushi interrupted, “Duke’s already spared Shinigami. He’s to come with me and be de-tentacled. Then, we’re going to Sodor. He’s done all the paperwork.”  
“Has he now?” groaned Karasuma. “I swear that engine just hates me.”  

The class all shot Karasuma identical looks, and he sighed.  
“Alright, fine. The dangerous assassin lives. I swear, when this is over, I’m going to never hear the end of it from my boss.”  
“I’m not sure why we’re sparing this guy either,” Terasaka said, stepping forward. “Didn’t he kidnap us all?”  
“We forgave Bitch-Sensei for that,” Kayano said.  
“He did what?” asked Gakushuu.  
“And you forgave her for helping?” added Ren. “Damn, friendship really is magic.”  
“No one died during that… so you know what, fuck it. Fine. He stays. No one’s dead here either,” Karma said.  
“You’re cute when you sound all decisive,” Nagisa smirked.  
“If you two started necking, I will drag you in front of an alter and make you pray for your sins.”  
“Bit rich coming from you Bitch-Sensei.”  
“Also, Duke might be dead?”  
“We’re going to rescue him and his stupid tender,” Karma said, waving his hand at the source of the morbid comment.  

Korogane paused at that moment, looking down the tunnel.   

“Something is wrong.”   

The others turned to look up at their formerly-tentacled teacher.  
“What is it?”  
“I can’t explain it… but Duke’s in danger. We need to get moving.”  
“But the laser…”  
“It fired – we need to go!” Korogane snapped.  
“But what about any residue? You need to rest – you just had two days of brain surgery!” Korogane ignored Karasuma, starting off for the elevator.  

As the students followed, Okuda bent down and checked the ground.  
“There’s flakes of rust all over the rails. Look – it’s got Duke’s paint on it.”  
“He’s been rusting away?” asked Yoshida. “That makes no sense – we checked him for rust every day.” Hazama shared a shocked look with Gakushuu.  

“The demonic engine…”   

They began to sprint.   

Karma caught on a second later, and was racing after them.  
“What is going on?” demanded Nagisa.  
“The demon engine – Albert! Remember what he said? Duke’s time on this earth is coming to a close. He has one last duty to complete, and then the scales of heaven and hell will weigh his soul. He’s been slowly disintegrating Duke!”  

That got people to move.    

They made it to the weird locomotive elevator, where they found the ghost of Albert waiting. Except – the eyes were no longer red. Now, they were a faded, off-colour blue, filled with contempt.  
“I have won.”  
“You have killed Duke,” said Karma. It was not a question.  
“Duke killed himself. Now, his soul is to be judged by the cosmos. So far, they have heard the testimony of one who was scorned by Duke, and one who was saved by Duke. Now – now they look for one who has felt both sides of Duke.” The spirit stares straight at Shinigami.  
“In the meantime, good luck saving his physical body. Even if he heads upwards, his engine was badly damaged. And besides – I will not let you out of this tunnel.”  

And then Albert was morphing, shifting. His form went from engine to monster, taking up the tunnel mouth with a massive, scaly frame built of fire and pain and peeled-back skin, revealing ripped and torn muscle. His nameplates stayed, now bolted to the scales on his neck.   

“Time to fight,” Albert hissed – and then he was breathing fire at them. Shinigami moved on instinct, grabbing the students and pulling them back. Then he raced forwards, slamming into Albert and forcing him back, thousands of punches hitting the draconic form at once. Steam erupted from Albert, scalding Shinigami. Albert batted him with an ‘arm’, flinging him down the tunnel. The students raced forwards, firing their guns. Some bounced off the scales – one pierced Albert’s wing-like construct, causing the demonic ghost to hiss – and one hit the muscle. Albert roared. He blasted fire, and Shinigami only just pulled the students away.   

Then Karasuma, Irina and Korogane were attacking with knives, slashing at the scales. They surrounded Albert, trying to find a weak spot. The students opened fire again, and Shinigami raced back in. Albert turned to an almost formless smoke, wrapping the students and teachers up and pulling them deep within his mind, to share in his pain, and to hypnotise them. His nameplates remained together, just sort of hovering. Shinigami dashed out of the smoke with Karma and Nagisa.  
“He’s insane!”  
“What did you expect from a hundred-plus year-old demon thing?” demanded Shinigami. Then, the tentacle monster fell to one knee.  
“What’s going on?”  
“I don’t… know,” replied Shinigami. He fell sideways, and was sucked into the rails, the ground bowing to accept him into it.  

“What the actual fuck?”  
“Now’s not the time!” yelped Nagisa. Karma looked up – and there was Albert’s distorted face, screaming in blind rage. “We need to get moving!” Nagisa grabbed Karma’s hand, and the pair sprinted back down the line.  

“Muramatsu’s ramen shop is too far from the school to make it to Granpuff.”  
“But maybe there’s another hatch…” Nagisa said, slowing to a jog and checking along the tunnel wall. The two began frantically checking the brickwork, pulling at cracks that just weren’t there.  

“This tunnel’s pretty damn solid. So… what do we do?”   

Nagisa and Karma shared a look.   

“Albert needs to be dealt with,” said Karma. There was no grin left, only dull worry. It was the two of them. Two against a demon. Two…   

“I have a plan.”   

***   

Albert filled up the coach with the captured students. The smoke hung in thick clouds, keeping them under his spell as he sat them in the coach and on the flatbed, then started it rolling down the tunnel, reforming into his original engine form.   

Karma stepped out in front of the coach. Albert threw on the brakes, and the coach came to a halt inches away from an unflinching Karma.  
“You are giving yourself in? Good to know at least people today have more sense.”  
“Yes,” agreed Karma with a grim look. “Sense.”  

Nagisa plunged from the sky, landing on Albert’s boiler. Albert roared in fury, as Nagisa slashed at Albert’s boiler. Steam escaped through the cracks. Albert screamed in pain. Karma leapt onto the coach roof, crawling along it. Nagisa stayed firmly on Albert’s boiler as the engine shook and shuddered, trying to throw Nagisa off. Nagisa plunged his dagger into Albert’s boiler again and again. Steam filled the cavern. Nagisa could feel his skin scream in pain, but he kept stabbing. Karma plunged his own dagger into Albert’s face, just as Nagisa pried off Albert’s first nameplate. Albert’s left wheels gave out, and he dropped to one side.   

“No! Stop! I am eternal! I tricked Duke into believing I had changed!”   
“You are a monster, and you ruined an engine’s life!” roared Nagisa, prying the other nameplate off of Albert. Karma’s dagger dug in deeper, and Nagisa ripped the nameplates in two with a vicious strike and…  

And Albert crumbled into dust, the ground swallowing him up.   

“We need to get moving again!” Nagisa nodded, and the two sprinted for the elevator as they heard the class slowly wake up behind them.   

The elevator was already moving, and they leapt onto it, letting it bring them up towards the mountain.   

Towards Duke.   

Chapter Text

Shinigami was falling. A downward spiral, round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel, never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel like a snowball down a mountain, or a carnival balloon, or like a carousel that's turning running rings around the moon, like a clock whose hands are sweeping past the minutes of its face, and the world is like an apple whirling silently in space like the circles that you find in the windmills of your mind…

Flashes of his past, of his few terrible years with his father and the old man’s lack of affection for anything but money, of his time with Korogane and an open road filled with opportunity and freedom, of Duke and Skarloey and Rheneas – only one knowing his secret – of Sodor, of his first successful assassination in Monaco – the stuck up prat getting just what he deserved, of his inferiority turning to fury, of a choice that would haunt him for all eternity, of flowers and hats and kidnappings and failures and experiments…

Of battles that never were, never would be.

Memories of slower moments, such as watching the Muppets with Duke and Korogane Ryushi, of swimming in Skarloey lake and watching the trains go by. Staying in hotels, jumping on the beds and ordering fancy-sounding French dishes while Ryushi picked out a cheesy comedy movie for them to watch. Long roadtrips that took them across continents, stopping in sleepy villages to buy pastries from hidden bakeries where the only other customer was a tired local with a fascinating or mundane story. Listening to every story, imagining every character. Everyone deserved to have their story heard – and quietly, he’d written them down in a little notebook, saving them all. For what, he was never sure – but there was a reason... or maybe there was not. It didn’t matter then, and it didn’t matter now.

Shinigami landed with a bang on the floor of an endless white. Duke stood nearby, just out of reach. Shinigami was in his original form – no tentacles, no fake-face created from ripping off his own skin, and there stood a judge with his scythe and Albert, who looked horrified as he was dragged downwards by cackling faces.

“I knew he was trouble. I couldn’t get rid of him, but he was at least someone to talk to.”
“Duke!”
“I present our last witness. Shinigami – original name lost after the death of his father. You will be sent back to the human realm after proceedings, but first you shall testify. Your position on Duke the Lost Engine?”

Shinigami gazed from the judge to Duke and back. Duke met his eyes, and in them, Shinigami saw an engine resigned to his fate. He had already passed judgement on himself. He knew what Shinigami would say. Duke… was ready.

“Duke… is an infuriating paradox,” Shinigami said. Both the judge and Duke looked over at him, and Shinigami could feel the confusion more than see it. “Duke is such an infuriating contradiction! No matter how well you think you know this engine, there is always something more. Always. Before last week, I didn’t even know about the tunnels. Three weeks ago, I believed Duke hated me. Three months ago, I was certain of it. But… Duke is more than a few surprises. He has… dare I say it… morals. He has very certain rules. No Reaper has ever killed an oppressed minority. This is directly because of Duke. To this day, no Reaper sets foot in many cities in the poorer world bar to kill their leaders. Duke has always been clear that the duty of the Reaper is to keep humanity from stepping too far. To halt businessmen, to keep dictators from gaining too much power…”

Shinigami took a deep breath.

“Duke’s work morals may be lauded, but his personal life, my experiences with him… they are not too different. Or maybe they are. I first met Duke at the age of… eleven, maybe? Korogane headed to Sodor with me so I could begin my assassination training. For some reason, Duke was the engine he brought me to – and I thought, ‘an engine can’t teach me’… but I was so wrong. Duke is a great teacher, and a greater grandfather figure. Yes, he could be harsh at times, but he only wanted me to be my very best.”

A half forgotten, half-buried memory came to Shinigami, and he stopped. He stood there, at this faux-podium, and looked at Duke.

“And he never wanted me to be an assassin. I... I remember, heading into the village by the lake and buying an ice cream and a box of tea. I strained the tea into Duke’s tank, and we sat down on a siding overlooking the lake. And Duke said to me… ‘Young Shinigami, do you have something you want to be when you grow up? Something legal? Because I will help you achieve your dreams, no matter what. Sometimes, it’s better to walk in the light than to drown in the dark.’ I never really understood that… until now. You were okay with me being an assassin… but you wanted me to be a normal person, so that I would never know what it felt like to kill.”

“Right in one,” chuckled Duke tiredly. He wheezed, rust coming off him in curls. “I suppose that’s all for now. How did my soul weigh?”

The pair waited while the one who had weighed Duke’s soul against a feather turned and spoke to the judge, whispers passing from mouth to ear. H waved his scythe, and then Shinigami was falling again.

***

Something snapped as Karma and Nagisa made it to ground level. They were alone up here. They would have to do.

Karma and Nagisa followed the rails, watching them as they told their harrowing tale. Duke had been running along this line – rust coated the sleepers in a thick brown dust, only growing worse as they sped on after the old engine. The pieces became larger. Larger. Until there was a great patch of dust and specks and an entire shaving of metal that had shorn off the old engine. Right in front of the classroom.

A figure stepped out of the shadows.

“What purpose do you have here?” the figure asked.
“We’re looking for Duke!” said Nagisa. The figure stepped closer. Nagisa and Karma finally got a good look at him as a light flickered on, seemingly from nowhere.

A gentleman in a Victorian daytime vest stood before them. His vest was such a dark green it was almost black, with trimmed black trousers, a white, long-sleeved dress shirt and a blood-red cravat. He held a cane in his old hands, and even though his light brown hair had turned grey, he still somehow held a vitality to him.

“Well, you found a Duke – though I suppose not the one you were looking for.” Karma frowned, and Nagisa clenched the redhead’s hand in his own.
“You are Sir John Norramby…”
“I am. I’m the first Reaper.”
“Wait…” Karma stepped forwards. “Duke said you died in 1894…”
“I faked my death in 1894. I actually died in 1912.”
“What?”
“I faked my death so as to become the Reaper full-time.”
“We have no time for this – where is Duke?!” demanded Nagisa.
“But…” began Karma.
“No! He’s baiting us! These questions lead to more – and then Duke is dead. Leave the spectre, and let’s go.”

Nagisa pulled at Karma’s hand, and the two turned to keep looking.

“He’s at the trestle bridge!” called the spectre. “Hurry, and you may just stop his death!”

Nagisa and Karma broke into a sprint.

They raced along the trackbed, following it as it curved through the landscape.
“Nagisa! What about the shortcut?” called Karma, pointing to an eroded patch of ground. Nagisa nodded, and the two leapt into the trees, following the old path as it twisted through the undergrowth.

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” said Karma.
“No… but we’ll need to do something.”
“Yanagisawa’s probably dead.”
“Probably,” came the blunt reply.
“How is this not freaking you out?” asked Karma slowly.
“At this point? I just want to focus on keeping everyone else alive,” Nagisa replied coolly. Karma nodded.
“You have a point. Sometimes I wish things were as they used to be.”
“What?” asked Nagisa, turning to look at Karma even as he perfectly swung from one branch to the next. “When are you talking about?”

Karma chuckled, keeping up with Nagisa move for move. The pair flew through the treetops – really flew, gracefully, with purpose. Predators stalking their prey, or in this case, heroes rushing for the save.

“When we used to have so much fun.”
“My neck says we still have fun,” huffed Nagisa, taking a moment to pull down his stealth uniform to show off the numerous hickeys dotting his neck.
“Nah, I mean when we used to beat up gang members and stick wasabi up their nose!”
“You beat up gangsters, Karma, and used me as bait.”
“We still stuck wasabi up their noses together!”
“Ever the romantic,” sighed Nagisa. “But… maybe we can do that again after this is all over. But this time, together properly.”

Karma could only agree, a dopey expression on his face as he followed Nagisa through the leaves and towards the river.

Chapter Text

Shinigami landed on the top of a small waterfall, overlooking the destroyed trestle bridge. He hit the water with a splash, his tentacles moving on instinct to bounce him away from the sharp rocks that threatened to pierce into him. No, they probably wouldn’t hurt him, but it was reflex.

He looked over, and his mouth went dry.

Duke looked terrible.

His boiler was ruptured in multiple places, his piston rods were ripped from his wheels, he was covered in scratches and scars – and his face was missing, a cold, unfeeling smokebox door with a massive crack down the centre standing where his kind old eyes should have been.

Shinigami almost threw up.

Karma and Nagisa burst out of the trees opposite. One look at Duke had them both tumbling to a stop, falling to the ground at the riverbank. Nagisa stood up first, sprinting into the water.
“Duke? Duke! Wha— no, Karma… Karma his face isn’t there! He’s gone Karma!”

Shinigami extended his tentacles out and joined them by the wrecked engine.
“He still has some coal embers in his firebox,” he said slowly. “If we can keep his fire burning overnight – and stop him from exploding... we might just save him.” Nagisa nodded grimly as Karma strode over. He paused by Duke.
“We’re going to need to keep plenty of water in his tanks… and keep his fire going,” he said slowly. “Put him down on the bank by the river.”

Shinigami carefully lifted Duke’s body out of the water, placing it down on the bank. A piece of his handrail groaned, and snapped off, clanging to the ground.
“Nagisa, go get me some sticks. Wood, leaves – I don’t car, just make sure it burns.”
“On it.”
“Shinigami… find metal, start patching up the boiler. That’s essential.” Shinigami nodded, and zoomed away. Karma pulled out a pocketknife and sighed.

“And I’ll get rid of Yanagisawa.”

Karma slid his knife into the edge of the metal bars slammed over Duke’s cab, and carefully pried the door open. Once freed from its locking mechanism, it groaned open, revealing a flooded cab. The firebox was shut, and Yanagisawa’s corpse was crumpled against the floor. The bone was sticking out of his thigh.

Karma grabbed Yanagisawa in his armpits and dragged him out of Duke’s cab. His leg fell awkwardly against the metal of the floor, but Karma didn’t care. The asshole deserved it.

Karma lugged Yanagisawa’s corpse to the river, and let it float away.

Then, he ran back to Duke and opened the firebox door. There was water in the bottom, and the coals had been roughly thrown about, damaging the firebox walls – but it hadn’t been pierced, and several coals were still smouldering. Karma grabbed all the small sticks strewn about the riverbank and fed them into the firebox, placing them delicately over the coals.

“Come on… catch!”

If an engine’s fire went out, all the water in their boiler was expelled – and then they had 24 hours before it was all over. Had Duke already expelled his water?

In some ways, Karma was glad Duke’s face had vanished off his smokebox. He couldn’t imagine what sort of shape it would have been in.

Albert’s face had been traumatising enough.

One leaf caught, burning a brilliant orange for a brief moment before flickering out.

“No! No! Catch damnit!” shouted Karma, thrusting more leaves and sticks into the firebox. The damp coals wouldn’t catch – one fizzled and popped – but then another leaf caught.
“Yes!” Karma fed the end of a pinecone on its stick into the flame, and almost screamed in delight when it lit. He gently placed it with the smouldering coals; adding a stick to the flame. Another coal fizzled. The flame flickered, and Karma grabbed a fistful of dried grass from near Duke and shoved it into the firebox.

“I have more sticks.”
“Good, pass them here! I’ve got a flame!”
“Really?” gasped Nagisa, dashing over. He handed Karma the smallest sticks he’d grabbed, placing the bigger logs on his stealth jacket before racing away to grab more.

Shinigami popped into view a moment later with a large rubber tube and a heap of old metal.
“The tube’s to collect river water,” he said as an explanation, and began changing out parts in Duke’s boiler. All the while, Karma kept slowly trying to rebuild the fire.

“This… this cannot be the end,” he said slowly. “After everything – why now?”
“A steam engine’s natural lifespan is rarely more the thirty years,” Shinigami said quietly. “Non-faceless engine last longer, but the boiler wears out, and it needs rebuilding or the engine is no longer useful.”
“And then they’re cut up,” said Karma morosely.
“Hey, Duke’s had a damn good run, no matter what,” Shinigami said, trying his best to comfort the redhead. “One-hundred forty years is nothing to sniff at.”

Karma didn’t reply, gently feeding another twig into the flame.

Shinigami pulled out several pipes, spilling water all over himself as he got to work removing the most damaged parts of the old engine.
“We can keep steam moving through his inner tubes – he somehow managed to keep most of himself intact,” Shinigami said, rolling some metal into a pipe at near Mach 20. He placed the new pipe gently into Duke’s boiler, then rolled a new one.

“I hope I have enough metal.”
“Get water in his tanks first,” came the blunt reply. “If he runs out of water, then we’re done for.” Shinigami nodded, and fed the rubber tube first into Duke’s tank, then into the stream.

“That won’t feed water to Duke.”
“I was hoping he’d have enough steam to act as a turbine… but I’m going to need to think of something else.” Shinigami zipped away again, just as Nagisa returned with more wood.

Nagisa crouched down beside Karma, and began adding thicker sticks with their bark stripped off around the flame.
“Place the bark close by the flame – let it catch and light the bigger sticks,” Nagisa said. “I found a dead tree, so I might have some better wood soon.”

And he was off again.

Shinigami returned with a little diesel generator and pump that Karma suspected was used in the classroom for bringing in water, and set it up with expert movements. Water began pumping slowly into Duke’s tank. Shinigami sped off again, returning with Nagisa and the dead tree. The tentacled former-assassin began ripping apart the tree, handing the smallest parts to Karma to add to the steadily growing fire. Another pinecone certainly helped, as did plenty of sticks and finally a splintery log caught. A thin wisp of steam curled from Duke’s funnel.

Nagisa carefully placed some of the wood into the flames, then let it lie next to the current fire. Some of the soaked coals popped and spat, then one caught fire.
“Now, we wait,” said Shinigami morosely. He had patched up Duke’s ruined boiler as best as he could, leaving the cracked smokebox door alone. Touching that would ruin everything before they had a chance to save their Granpuff.

Karma and Nagisa said nothing, not even caring about the dangerous assassin-turned-tentacle-monster that had tried to kill them several times. He was helping to save Duke, and that’s all that mattered.

The three sat together, huddled for warmth on the inside of Duke’s dented cab. They stared into the fire, feeding it gently until it was a bright flame, creating just enough heat to boil the water. At some point, Nagisa left to find more wood, dragging a rotted log back. Shinigami ripped the log apart with his tentacles, and Karma fed the pieces into the fire.

The stars faded into inky blackness, the critters of the woods had gone silent. It was if the whole world was holding its breath. Waiting.

“What will you do next?” asked Karma eventually.
 “Get the surgery, move somewhere. Readjust to civilian life. I have enough money saved up to live comfortably, so I suppose I’ll buy a small farm or something. What about you?” said Shinigami, pointing to Nagisa.
“We all got accepted into The Royal Academy of Sodor, so I guess we’ll go there. Meet Duke’s original ‘youngsters’, maybe tell his story once or twice. Win at school, go to University, get a good job,” replied Nagisa.
“Marry Nagisa,” piped in Karma. Nagisa squeaked, and turned bright red. “But yeah, after this we’re headed for Sodor.”

“Sodor is a great place. It’s… peaceful,” said Shinigami.

They sat there, watching over Duke’s fire and checking as his boiler pressure needle slowly began to flicker, moving upwards.

***

“Will this even work?” asked Karma.
“It has to,” Nagisa said.

***

“Tell us more about Sodor?”
“What do you want to know?”
“We know its history and Duke’s stories – but what is it like as a place?”
“It’s beautiful. It’s nothing like Japan – it’s all little cottages and fancy brickwork. The buildings all have to look at least Edwardian at the latest, the locals are nothing if not stubborn in that regard! And… it has some incredible landscapes. There’s this one viaduct near Rheneas station that crosses over this gorge, and it looks like something out of a fairy-tale. This little stone viaduct that crosses high above the canyon floor, with a little creek that has the clearest water babbling away, and trees growing all over. In the winter, it’s capped with snow, and the sun makes everything sparkle…”
“Sounds magical,” said Nagisa quietly.
“It is,” replied Shinigami. “It has long, sweeping beaches and mountains and meadows that stretch on for miles. I remember going on these long hikes with Korogane and seeing something new every time. And everyone is so friendly – even if they can be a bit stubborn. You need to be to force the island to keep its 1950’s aesthetic even now. They kept that little island so peaceful, it’s an ideal tourist destination. I... I wish I had appreciated it more when I had the chance.”

The three turned to look out of the cab – and on the horizon, the sun was slowly rising.

Chapter Text

Just as the judge was about to tell Duke the verdict of their trial, he felt something deep within him stir. Wisps of steam wafted from his funnel, a dull grey that clashed with the bright, harsh white of the world around him. The judge paused.

“It would appear that someone is looking to retrieve your soul from the old realm.”
“My fire never went out… my twenty-four hours are not up…” Duke said slowly, realisation dawning. “But… this means that…”
“Someone is rebuilding your fire and protecting you. If they manage to keep it going until the sun has completely risen above the horizon, I shall grant you your life, for then it will be obvious you are wanted in the human realm.” Duke smiled a broad smile, closing his eyes and contenting himself with feeling the warmth spread through his boiler.

It was barely twenty minutes before the judge raised his scythe, but to Duke it felt like hours.
“You may return to the human realm. Continue your work to help people, so we may never have to doubt your goodness again.”
“Yes sir,” replied Duke. “And… thank you.”

There was a bright flash of light, and then Duke was gone.

The sensation of waking up in his own body again was surreal. The feeling of steam wandering through his pipes, the sensation of fire burning deep in the pit of his firebox, of each of his aches and pains slowly adding themselves to his old metal body. It was as though he was floating for a mere moment, then crashing back into reality, forcing his eyes shut and a groan to pass his lips.

“What was that?”

Footsteps rattled the inside of Duke’s old smokebox, and he groaned again, wanting to snap at whoever was currently slamming a sledgehammer against his boiler.
“He’s alive!”
“You woke me up,” groaned Duke. “In my young days, engines were seen and not heard from.”
“Uh… Granpuff?” Duke opened a pained eye to see Nagisa, Karma and Shinigami staring at him.
“Oh… Well… give me a little time to adjust. Everything hurts.”
“You blew up a bridge and drove off it,” retorted Shinigami. “Of course everything hurts!”

That snapped Duke to attention.
“Is everyone alright?!”
“We all got out of the area in time,” said Nagisa.
“And Albert?”
“He tried to stop us, but we destroyed his nameplates.”
“Then…”
“We came straight away.”

Duke smiled slowly. Nagisa and Shinigami stepped away to check on Duke’s fire and his water levels, leaving Karma beside the old engine.
“Yanagisawa was dead when we got here. I dumped him in the river, so he’ll wash up somewhere.”

Duke said nothing for a long moment. Then…

“I’m sorry you had to witness this. I… I hoped that it would all be over before you could get back above ground.”
“You idiot,” huffed Karma. “As if we’d let anything happen to our Granpuff.”

Duke smiled, and the two turned to watch as the sun slowly rose further and further, basking the world in its all-knowing light.

***

Karasuma organised a covered lorry to truck Duke out, bringing him straight to the nearest commandeered workshop. The students all came to meet the battered engine.

“What are the damages?” asked Korogane.
“Burst cylinder, broke coupling and piston rods, wrecked boiler, dented smokebox, firebox and cab, broken regulator and reverser, shattered glass everything, and his tender needs a complete rebuild. Whether or not he runs again is still unknown.”
“Thanks for telling me,” grumbled Duke. “At least I can pay for it all.”
“Ha! You saved the world from imminent doom, Duke. Several governments are paying for your overhaul,” Karasuma said, breaking his usual grim expression to grin at the stunned look Duke had on his smokebox.

“But I... and then I— are you honestly telling me that the government is using taxpayer dollars to rebuild me?”
“Well, they’re using the prize money for ‘killing’ Korosensei, and the money they were going to spend on subduing Shinigami before he mysteriously disappeared,” Karasuma amended, going back to looking overtired and grumpy. Duke chuckled softly.
“All’s well that ends well, I suppose,” he hummed. “The world is safe, the moon will reform and somehow we managed it all without revealing my involvement in too much. I’d say that this has been a success.”
“It’s as much a success as it is a media nightmare,” grit out Karasuma. “Kunugigaoka Junior High School is currently in the midst of being destroyed by a furious public demanding that the entire thing be torn down because they allowed Korosensei to teach there.”
“As I said,” Duke grinned lazily, his old eyes twinkling bright despite the darkened room, “all’s well that ends well.” Karasuma groaned.
“Are you forgetting the part where the world governments are also under fire for this debacle? And you might be too?”
“I am an innocent old engine who was made to work on the mountain by the school administration for the festival, and then I left. How am I involved?” Karasuma scowled.
“Just help me fix this.” Duke outright laughed at that, but nevertheless the old engine obliged, giving Karasuma a number of great ideas to help divert the public attention and scapegoat Principal Asano – which Karasuma gleefully used.

That over, a troop of experienced mechanics descended on Duke, carefully removing and replacing the parts beyond repair, gently buffing out dented steel of what they could repair. They unscrewed the metal bars and took the mechanism off the cab, revealing Duke’s old cab beneath. His ruined paint was stripped off and a new coat was applied, the lining done delicately to perfectly replicate his old paint. The hastily forged boiler tubes made by Shinigami were removed and replaced with expertly crafted replacements, Duke’s old boiler being all-but replaced by the specialists.

It took some time.

“Can you tell us if he be able to run again yet?” asked Korogane, airing the question everyone had been wondering since they saw Duke begin to be pieced together again.
“We cannot say,” replied the mechanic sombrely. Still, they waited.

Duke spent his days somewhere between lucidity and blissful unconsciousness. The worst of it was over – now he could retire. Whether he ran again was of no concern to the old engine. In his moments of awareness, he spoke quietly to the children and teachers, saying little but with feeling.

“We are going to attempt to steam him tomorrow,” one workman said. “If it works, he will be able to run again. It might also help with his sleepiness.” The group all turned to stare at the old engine, who just happened to be napping. Duke opened a sleepy eye, grunting at the pointed comment.
“I’ve always been tired,” grumbled Duke. “It’s what happens when you get to my age.”
“All the same, it may help,” offered Korogane. Duke acquiesced that the former assassin was right.

As evening fell, the workmen left, followed by the students, followed by Irina and Karasuma. Only Korogane and Shinigami lingered. Duke opened his eyes and blinked the sleep out of them; his afternoon nap finally over. Korogane was happy that the snoring was gone. 

“I suppose we have one more issue to sort then,” said the old engine, yawning as he rolled his jaw.
“Do we?”
“Yes. Korogane Ryushi, Shinigami: it is time to rebuild your identities so you can re-join society.” Duke looked between the two of them, and sighed.

“You’ve given this no thought, have you?”
“Er… no,” sighed Shinigami. He had just had his third arm surgery and was still flexing his rebuilt wrist and fingers curiously. “We’ve been a bit…”
 “Preoccupied. You did die Granpuff.”
“I was in limbo,” huffed Duke. “Luckily, I have given this some thought. Ryushi, you can keep your name if you want. No one knows you by anything other than the Reaper anyway. Shinigami however…”
“I know…”
“Wait,” Korogane butted in. “I want you to be my son. Properly. I know I wasn’t the best mentor…”
 “Yes.”
 “…but I’d like to make it up – wait, did you say yes?”
“Yes! I… I’d love to start over.”

Duke smiled.
“Right, so what last name are you both taking?”
“I… I would like to keep my name,” said Ryushi slowly.
“Wonderful. So you both will be Korogane’s. Ryushi and… what do you think of Shino?”
“As a name? I… I like it.”

Korogane Ryushi and Korogane Shino, now father and son. Duke smiled, and quietly plotted which official to prod to gain them their official passports and documents. It wouldn’t be too hard – apparently the government thought of him as one of the saviours of the world.

“You two head home; don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure everything is alright,” Duke said kindly, and watched fondly as the pair strode away.

Duke was alone, and then a man stepped out of the darkness.
“Must I always be plagued by ghosts?” wondered Duke aloud. The man stepped around in front of Duke, unimpressed eyebrow raised.
“Sir John’s work my arse, Duke – you almost got yourself killed.”
“Sir Robert?” Duke stared at the man in front of him in shock. “I… what happened to not interfering?”
“I didn’t. I caught the first flight from London to Tokyo the moment I heard what happened. What happened to being careful?!”
“I had a duty to fulfil Sir Robert,” said Duke calmly.
“So, no remorse?”
“None.”
“Not even for all the grief you almost caused?”
“It would hurt, but it had to be done.”
“What even was your duty?”
“Do you remember Yanagisawa?” asked Duke. Sir Robert raised an eyebrow.
“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Duke said nothing for a moment, then began the long, long tale that began some months ago, with a visit from an old friend in a new shape…

Chapter Text

Duke felt the steam race through his boiler tubes, gifting him more alertness than he’d felt in weeks. He stretched out the muscles in his face with a yawn, then carefully shifted his regulator and reverser. They moved to his will, and he let off steam loudly as he felt all his joints and pins stiffen, then loosen with a creak. He crept forwards, blowing steam everywhere.

“I feel wonderful,” Duke said happily as he rolled out the massive bay doors and into the sunshine. “And lighter than ever too!”
“We used a few tricks,” grinned one of the engineers. “Improving on a British engine in the Japanese fashion.”
“We also found this buried in your frames, any clue what it is?” asked a mechanic. He produced a piece of torn up shrapnel, and held it up for inspection. Karma and Nagisa gasped.

“That’s—”
“Albert’s nameplate!” Duke looked over curiously.
“His nameplate? Well, that explains a few things.”

“So he will run again?” asked Ryushi, a bit stupidly – seeing as Duke was quite happily creeping towards them. 
 “Yes, Duke is completely repaired,” the engineer replied, a little confused. “Though... we only meant to do a boiler pressure test, not set him running.” He turned to shoot a glare at whoever had decided to drive Duke out of the shed – but there was no one. The other engineers and mechanics were behind him, looking equally dumbfounded.

“You’re already doing that trick again?” huffed Kataoka. “Really? You just got steam up.”
“I enjoy a little prank every now and again,” chuckled Duke. “I told you about Stuart, didn’t I?”
“Uh... no?” Gakushuu said, looking a little lost. He hadn’t quite finished reading through all the Railway Series books yet.
“Well...”

“An inspector will certify his boiler when we get back to Sodor, and then he’ll be back on the Skarloey Railway,” Sir Robert said to the other adults as Duke managed to enthral the former students of Class 3-E with a retelling of his favourite prank yet again. “And he will not be giving any more heart attacks for at least a year!”
“I make no promises,” Duke called cheekily, not even pausing in his story. 

*** 

The students said goodbye to the old engine the next morning, as he was sheeted up and loaded onto a covered lorry bound for the nearest harbour. 
"I'll see you all when you get to Sodor! You'll see!" called Duke. "I'll be right there at the platform, come hell or high water!" 
"Stop that," huffed Sir Robert. "You're just inviting trouble." 
"I've cheated death twice now," grinned Duke. "I can handle trouble. Twenty years in a shed? No big deal. Falling off a collapsed bridge? I survived that too. Just watch me survive some other event." 

Sir Robert groaned. One thing Duke had gained from his time in Japan was a lot of confidence. Duly earned confidence - but it was verging on the edge of being cocky. Luckily for Sir Robert - or unluckily for Duke - the angry face of the Thin Controller and the scolding the old engine received was just enough to dial him back a bit! 

***

Sodor and Japan had more similarities than Kimura had realised. Both had hundreds of years’ worth of history, a love of peace and tradition that extended to their architecture, customs, and way of life. Both had bustling economies – though Japan’s was more centred around industry and technology, whereas Sodor was a mining and agricultural island. And one more thing they share was a fondness for trains.

The island of Sodor was not too far now – the former students of Class 3-E waited impatiently for the local stopping train to make its way along the headlands of Cumbria towards the interchange station of Barrow-in-Furness. They were finally heading to the Royal Academy of Sodor for their first semester at their new high school. Somehow, it didn’t feel quite as scary as it ought to have, being in another country almost exactly halfway around the world. Compared to being tasked with assassinating a sentient octopus-tentacle teacher, living on Sodor and attending school there was a walk in the park! On the other side of the coach, Terasaka growled at some old man as he sneered at the two boyfriends, not noticing Karma sneak itching powder down the back of his jacket. Nagisa tried his best not to laugh at his boyfriend’s prank, but it was a losing battle – especially when the man began furiously scratching at his back at Itona pondered aloud if the old man had caught “the gay rash” – which caused the man to panic. Another train flew by, and then they were crossing the Leven Viaduct, speeding over the estuary. The trek from London had been... less than pleasant in far too many ways to explain – no seriously, what kind of railway network was this?

Still, now they were nearing their destination, and not even the subpar upholstery on the inside of the DMU carrying them could dampen their grins.

The train pulled slowly into Barrow at last, and Kimura watched as Korosensei – no, Ryushi Korogane - was the first off the train, followed by his newly rehumanised ‘son’ Shino. The pair looked almost at home, striding easily down the platform and towards the underpass. The rest of the class followed behind – even Karasuma was there, dressed for once in ‘comfortable’ attire. Well, as close to comfortable as an itchy sweater and pair of slacks could get.

The did not have to wait in the other platform long, as within ten minutes there was a booming whistle, and a large green steam locomotive with a face came steaming in. He slowed to a halt at the platform, a long line of coaches behind him.

“Look!” hissed Sugaya, “it’s Henry the green engine!”
“Oh great, more tourists,” sniffed Henry. “As if we don’t get enough of them already!”
“Be nice Henry,” scolded his driver. “Tourists are good for the railway.”
“They’re fine in small batches,” Henry retorted. “But we get flocks of them! And all they ever want to do is talk about our accidents. Just once I’d like to hear a tourist ask me about something that isn’t a stupid tunnel or the Flying Kipper or whatever stupid bull-”
“Henry!” shouted his driver, blasting his whistle to drown out the green engine.

The fireman reappeared from where he’d ducked off to uncouple Henry, and the pair drove the grumbling green engine away.

“Well!” sniggered Karma. “I didn’t even have to do anything to set him off!”
“Don’t try anything on these engines,” warned Ryushi. “They love getting even.” With that warning hanging over their heads, the group piled aboard Henry’s return train and set off for the Island of Sodor.

They crossed over the points, lurching to the left before picking up speed over a great red lift bridge. A freight train rumbled by in the other direction, pulled by yet another engine with a face.
“Which one’s that?” asked Ren.
“I think that was Bear,” hummed Gakushuu. “I just reached his stories!”
“Took you long enough!” grinned Fuwa. “Are you enjoying them?”
“I... guess so,” admitted Gakushuu. “It’s so weird to say that about a kid’s book.”

The train stopped at another station, and then began the journey to Crovan’s Gate – the station where Duke had promised he’d be waiting for them.

They rushed through a tunnel – and some young boy began to sing a rhyme to his parents in the most out-of-key voice that any of Class 3-E had been forced to hear. Then, they rounded a bend, and the station came into view.

The station was nothing too exciting or special, but it felt exhilarating. This was where the next chapter of their lives would begin – this was the station where the class would transfer over to the narrow-gauge railway for one final jaunt up into the hills before arriving at their new school.

And there waiting for them at the platform with a beaming smile and spotless new paintwork, was Duke.
“Granpuff!” All of them raced past the adults to start dancing around the repaired old engine, grinning as he promised them – he was fine, stop worrying and – “Karma put down the sneezing powder. Duncan’s cough is bad enough.”
“You know me too well,” chuckled Karma, putting the packet back into his pocket and instead wrapping an arm around Nagisa. Nagisa blushed slightly; but leaned into Karma’s side. Further down the platform, Terasaka and Itona leant against Duke’s tender and enjoyed a brief kiss. Watching the old man frantically jump about the carriage and screech obscenities had put them in a good mood.

Peter Sam gaped at the group.
“Granpuff, how do you know these children? And why are they calling you Granpuff?” he asked. Duke looked over at where Peter Sam was trying his best not to stare awkwardly at the classroom-full of children and the animated girl on their phone screens who was doing her own little dance as if she was somehow alive and not a program.

Duke chuckled, waiting patiently for all his youngsters to board the train.
“Sorry, I have to go youngster,” Duke said in perfect Japanese, stunning Peter Sam into silence. “Maybe later?” And with that, Duke departed, pulling the line of coaches out of the station platform and away from the bemused – and slightly annoyed – little engine he left behind.
“What did he say?” asked Peter Sam slowly, looking over at Rusty.
“Search me,” huffed the little diesel. “It’s just nice to have Duke back. How do you even steal a steam locomotive?” Rusty grumbled away, leaving Peter Sam very, very confused indeed.

The line was as beautiful as Shino had described. Lush green fields gave way to steep, rocky hills that bracketed the line and showcased the rugged beauty of the mountains. They passed up onto the loneliest part of the line, where the moorland seemed to stretch on for miles in all directions, with the random boulder or outcropping being the only interruptions to endless green. A couple little cottages dotted the moorland, with slate roofs and cream walls that helped them stand out against the gentle green of the moor. A little creek babbled down from one of the rocky outcroppings, winding down the hillside before twisting away under the line and away towards Crovan’s Gate.

And then they reached the viaduct. It was every bit as magnificent as Shino had said, if not more so. The valley stretched away in both directions; one end angled upwards towards the famous Skarloey Lake while the other meandered on its path for a little longer before the babbling brook tumbled through a series of rapids towards a far larger river. The viaduct stood high up at the very top of the ridge, spanning between the two cliffs like a great leap of faith. It was all thin stone arches, with a wire fence stretched along the lineside to ‘protect’ the engines. Trees and bushes grew into the sides of the cliffs, adding to the greenery while still allowing for some of the deep grey of the cliffs to shine through. The sun shone down on them, making the babbling brook glint and glimmer; looking both inviting and pristine.

“We’re going to be able to go on the best hikes here,” grinned Isogai.
“Forget hikes!” exclaimed Kanzaki. “I’m going to volunteer on the railway. Imagine the extra skills I could pick up.”
“I hear that you can earn a couple trade diplomas at railways like this,” Terasaka added. “I want to learn some welding or something.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t go on hikes,” huffed Isogai. “Both are possible.”
“True...”

Gakushuu and Ren sat in the last coach, Gakushuu leaning his head on Ren’s shoulders as the latter excitedly pointed out every sight he remembered.
“Look! That’s the ruined castle. The line runs right by it on a causeway, and it’s just the most incredible castle to rifle through. And over there’s the town of Skarloey, right above the lake.”

The train passed through one last station, giving the students their first glimpse of the lake. It was incredible – a beautiful, crystal blue with a couple of pleasure boats cruising along the surface. The line felt almost as though it was intruding, the line the only way down to near the secluded lake. Skarloey lake existed in a hollow almost completely surrounded by woodland, with several small stops serviced by the line. These stops were strategically placed by little beaches, park benches and other facilities, all designed for the locals and tourists to best enjoy the natural beauty of the lake.

“Woah...” Shino gasped, gazing out over the Skarloey Lake with an old sense of home bubbling up.

Duke slowed to a halt at a little stone platform just near the school.
“Last stop for all students heading to the Royal Academy of Sodor!” called Duke. The students all bustled out, followed by Karasuma and Irina – wearing demure clothes for one – a moment later. Ryushi and Shino stayed where they were.

Duke waited until the last door banged shut, and then he slowly began to pick up speed once more.
“Where to next?” he asked. Ryushi and Shino shared a look, and grinned.
“Take us home, Duke,” they said together. “It’s about time we put everything to rest.” Duke could only smile.

It seemed like his days as the Informant were finally at an end.