[My Boss, My Hero] Greek Study
Title: Greek Study
Series: My Boss, My Hero
Spoilers/warnings: After series and dirty humor?
Wordcount: 1,007
Summary: Sakurakoji Jun tutors Makio in ancient cultures with current motivations.
Dedication: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY peroxidepest17!!
Sakaki Makio stared down his opponent, cracking his knuckles then his neck from side to side. The bones sounded like flint against a whetstone. Or a grindstone Makio was about to seize with both hands, making a low grumbling sound in the back of his throat before he reached for his enemy and shook it sideways.
The book rustled in protest but the letters didn’t fall into a neat, coherent jumble like he could have hoped. Makio grunted. “Nah, Sakura-something, it still doesn’t make sense.”
Sakurakoji laughed airly. “You mean it’s all Greek to you?”
“’s exactly the problem,” the heir apparent of the Kanto Sharp Fang grumbled, completely missing the reference.
Sakurakoji didn’t blame him. Whenever Makio tried to focus, really focus, everything else became inconsequential. Even his attempts at feigning normal student behavior slipped away as his frustration grew, until he was using his rougher yakuza dialogue and the intimidation tactics such as glaring at his textbook. Sakurakoji thought it was still a little unnerving, after all he wasn’t called “the Tornado” for nothing, but he was very glad that Makio could finally show every side to him now.
He was especially glad Makio allowed him to see the weaker sides that developed from his time at St. Agnes, such as the humility he showed in asking for Sakurakoji’s help in his ancient cultures section in history. He had insisted, after discovering that a lot of leaders in the past ended up ruling countries and armies just because they studied their predecessors. A “classical study” Makio repeated with newfound interest.
Of course he tried asking his cohorts in the Kanto Sharp Fang first, but the only thing remotely approaching ancient cultures was Kazu’s accidental acquisition of the Kama Sutra. It took Kuroi several hours of coaxing and diplomatic negotiation to trade it with a copy of the Bhagavad Gita so Makio could go back to his real homework.
Sakurakoji huffed a little and rested his chin on his hand. “Ne, Makky, think of it as something that relates to you. Greek politics aren’t that much different from the ones you deal with nowadays.”
“I don’t watch the news ‘cept for stuff about the gang rivals and some cartoons. That traffic bear’s really something if he can take a van out with one paw!”
“What about the politics of the Kanto Sharp Fang group? Greece was divided into different warring cities that each wanted to become the strongest. Sparta had military. Thebes had silk weavers. Crete was a farming island. And Athenians had ideas about leadership and being strong. And they all fought a lot to see who would be in charge of the rest.”
A brief look of interest passed over Makio’s face, then immediately glassed over when he turned back to Symposium. “But I’m not out there wearing a bedsheet and some leaves in my hair…”
“It’s called a toga. See? The word is right there in your glossary,” Sakurakoji supplied, using his other hand to flip over a few pages to the back. “But even if there were little differences I meant to look at how the bigger picture is the same.”
“Tch. If they were gonna write the thing in Greek why’d they put all the funny words in the back ‘till after we got confused by them! I would’ve gotten it the first time if I could understand the words they keep using. …maybe definitely got it.”
Sakurakoji had read Plato’s Symposium on his own before, and it managed to leave an impression on him, especially a few interesting points. He tried to remember the introduction to the text and what term might have tripped him up. After all, Makio already needed an explanation of how philosophers weren’t a specialty team that could launder and file away money. “Like ‘sophistry’?”
“Yeah! What’s bathing got to do with anything? I don’t know what that Plate con-artist was going on about...” the older man sniffed, not very discreetly checking himself for a musky scent that came from his earlier workout session of beating the tar out of half a dozen enforcers.
“Hmm. I think we should work on those words before you go back to that. Let’s use them in a way you’re familiar with so it makes sense. You want to be the third boss and you didn’t know the best way to make it so people would follow you. That’s the same thing Socrates asks in Republic and Symposium.”
“Awright, awright. So the one thing I got out of this was this Socrates was some big shot head that everyone wants to invite him to stuff. Then they all start talking and my eyes cross. The Plate guy goes on and on about him like he’s the best boss ever.”
“That’s because he was. At least to Plato. Socrates was Plato’s tutor in a lot of things, but Plato was the one who really helped Socrates with writing for him. Almost like how we are, hmm Makky?”
“So we’re the same? Like a, whaddyacallit? Apprenticeship?”
Sakurakoji smiled vaguely. “Ah, well in that case they’d call Plato the eromenos.”
“Ero-whatsit? Is that some pervert thing?” Makio sputtered, not catching the context, but every yakuza worth his salt and finger digits could recognize a dirty word when it vaguely sounded like it.
“No, no!” Sakurakoji insisted. “It’s an intellectual way they used to understand each other better! Tutors and students have a special bond. Really, Makky, just because you grew up with host clubs doesn’t mean you have to take it in that direction.”
Of course it didn’t help that Sakurakoji’s hand was suddenly on Makio’s knee.
“Really?”
“Hmm! For things like that, making people stronger, you’d call them a catamite...”
“Might might...’s that a way to make them stronger?” Makio asked, wracking his brain for some foreign English word that might fit. The way a round peg can go into a square hole if you slam it hard enough.
Sakurakoji’s hand moved a little further upward. “How about we try demonstrations next...?”
Series: My Boss, My Hero
Spoilers/warnings: After series and dirty humor?
Wordcount: 1,007
Summary: Sakurakoji Jun tutors Makio in ancient cultures with current motivations.
Dedication: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY peroxidepest17!!
Sakaki Makio stared down his opponent, cracking his knuckles then his neck from side to side. The bones sounded like flint against a whetstone. Or a grindstone Makio was about to seize with both hands, making a low grumbling sound in the back of his throat before he reached for his enemy and shook it sideways.
The book rustled in protest but the letters didn’t fall into a neat, coherent jumble like he could have hoped. Makio grunted. “Nah, Sakura-something, it still doesn’t make sense.”
Sakurakoji laughed airly. “You mean it’s all Greek to you?”
“’s exactly the problem,” the heir apparent of the Kanto Sharp Fang grumbled, completely missing the reference.
Sakurakoji didn’t blame him. Whenever Makio tried to focus, really focus, everything else became inconsequential. Even his attempts at feigning normal student behavior slipped away as his frustration grew, until he was using his rougher yakuza dialogue and the intimidation tactics such as glaring at his textbook. Sakurakoji thought it was still a little unnerving, after all he wasn’t called “the Tornado” for nothing, but he was very glad that Makio could finally show every side to him now.
He was especially glad Makio allowed him to see the weaker sides that developed from his time at St. Agnes, such as the humility he showed in asking for Sakurakoji’s help in his ancient cultures section in history. He had insisted, after discovering that a lot of leaders in the past ended up ruling countries and armies just because they studied their predecessors. A “classical study” Makio repeated with newfound interest.
Of course he tried asking his cohorts in the Kanto Sharp Fang first, but the only thing remotely approaching ancient cultures was Kazu’s accidental acquisition of the Kama Sutra. It took Kuroi several hours of coaxing and diplomatic negotiation to trade it with a copy of the Bhagavad Gita so Makio could go back to his real homework.
Sakurakoji huffed a little and rested his chin on his hand. “Ne, Makky, think of it as something that relates to you. Greek politics aren’t that much different from the ones you deal with nowadays.”
“I don’t watch the news ‘cept for stuff about the gang rivals and some cartoons. That traffic bear’s really something if he can take a van out with one paw!”
“What about the politics of the Kanto Sharp Fang group? Greece was divided into different warring cities that each wanted to become the strongest. Sparta had military. Thebes had silk weavers. Crete was a farming island. And Athenians had ideas about leadership and being strong. And they all fought a lot to see who would be in charge of the rest.”
A brief look of interest passed over Makio’s face, then immediately glassed over when he turned back to Symposium. “But I’m not out there wearing a bedsheet and some leaves in my hair…”
“It’s called a toga. See? The word is right there in your glossary,” Sakurakoji supplied, using his other hand to flip over a few pages to the back. “But even if there were little differences I meant to look at how the bigger picture is the same.”
“Tch. If they were gonna write the thing in Greek why’d they put all the funny words in the back ‘till after we got confused by them! I would’ve gotten it the first time if I could understand the words they keep using. …maybe definitely got it.”
Sakurakoji had read Plato’s Symposium on his own before, and it managed to leave an impression on him, especially a few interesting points. He tried to remember the introduction to the text and what term might have tripped him up. After all, Makio already needed an explanation of how philosophers weren’t a specialty team that could launder and file away money. “Like ‘sophistry’?”
“Yeah! What’s bathing got to do with anything? I don’t know what that Plate con-artist was going on about...” the older man sniffed, not very discreetly checking himself for a musky scent that came from his earlier workout session of beating the tar out of half a dozen enforcers.
“Hmm. I think we should work on those words before you go back to that. Let’s use them in a way you’re familiar with so it makes sense. You want to be the third boss and you didn’t know the best way to make it so people would follow you. That’s the same thing Socrates asks in Republic and Symposium.”
“Awright, awright. So the one thing I got out of this was this Socrates was some big shot head that everyone wants to invite him to stuff. Then they all start talking and my eyes cross. The Plate guy goes on and on about him like he’s the best boss ever.”
“That’s because he was. At least to Plato. Socrates was Plato’s tutor in a lot of things, but Plato was the one who really helped Socrates with writing for him. Almost like how we are, hmm Makky?”
“So we’re the same? Like a, whaddyacallit? Apprenticeship?”
Sakurakoji smiled vaguely. “Ah, well in that case they’d call Plato the eromenos.”
“Ero-whatsit? Is that some pervert thing?” Makio sputtered, not catching the context, but every yakuza worth his salt and finger digits could recognize a dirty word when it vaguely sounded like it.
“No, no!” Sakurakoji insisted. “It’s an intellectual way they used to understand each other better! Tutors and students have a special bond. Really, Makky, just because you grew up with host clubs doesn’t mean you have to take it in that direction.”
Of course it didn’t help that Sakurakoji’s hand was suddenly on Makio’s knee.
“Really?”
“Hmm! For things like that, making people stronger, you’d call them a catamite...”
“Might might...’s that a way to make them stronger?” Makio asked, wracking his brain for some foreign English word that might fit. The way a round peg can go into a square hole if you slam it hard enough.
Sakurakoji’s hand moved a little further upward. “How about we try demonstrations next...?”