Not exactly done
I don't really know what to do with this, so I'm just posting it. Either I'll be inspired and keep writing, or it'll get to finally die in some sort of peace.
Title: Converts
Fandom: Gokusen
Rating: PG-13 for lots of swearing
Follows Return and Prodigal
It's times like this that make him miss high school. Yeah, going to school was kinda a pain, but things were more fun then. Like sneaking into bars. Now that he's an adult - more or less - it's somehow less fun. He's still not legally old enough to drink, but no one ever asks. They just assume he's a respectable university student. And the shitty part is, that's exactly what he's become. It makes him want to go out and find a fight, just to feel that old rush again.
There's some guys here that would be happy to oblige if he wants a fight. They're talking big, mouthing off to the staff and being general assholes. It's like they're hoping someone will get pissed enough to try and take them on, just so they can beat the shit out of the sorry bastard. Ogata wants a fight, but he's not stupid enough to get into one with this lot. Maybe with his old gang from 3D at his back, but not now. He's drinking with a couple of guys from class and, frankly, they're a pair of pansies. They'll probably run away at the first hint of violence.
"Don’t fuckin' look down on us," one of the troublemakers shouts. "We're from Sakahogigumi!" Just the fact that he's felt the need to shout it makes Ogata look down on him a bit. A glance around the room shows he's the only one who feels this way; everyone else looks terrified. Except…
"Ya done squallin', ya stupid brat?" There's a red-headed guy standing just inside the doorway - looks like he just arrived. He looks pretty much like any other young businessman out on the town, except for the red hair. He's wearing a decent suit and everything, the jacket hanging casually open for an evening at the bar. But somehow… yeah, somehow he's nothing like any other young businessman. He's slouching with his hands in his pockets, looking bored with the violent display of the Sakahogigumi, like he could kick the shit out of them if he really wanted, but right now he just can't be bothered.
There's two more guys slouched behind him. They're a bit older, and they don't look like businessmen at all. One's got dyed blond hair cut in a classic gangster style and a shirt with an awful, garish print. He's chewing on a piece of pocky. The other one is dressed more normally, except for the ladybug cap. It actually fits him, so he probably didn't steal it off some little kid, but it's still not the sort of thing an self-respecting adult would wear. He makes it look badass though, which is totally unfair. Ogata wishes he could pull that sort of thing off, but knows he'll never be enough of a thug.
"You wanna fight, bastard?" snarls one of the guys from Sakahogigumi.
Red shrugs. "Not really." He puts a hand over his shoulder towards the blond thug. "Minoru. Pocky." The blond hand him a piece, and Red sticks it in his mouth like a cigarette. He shouldn't look so intimidating, doing that. Behind him, Ogata can sense his two classmates edging away, no doubt hoping to get out of here before actual violence erupts. "Ya said ya were from Sakahogigumi, ne?"
"Got that right, bastard." There's some serious pride in the thug's voice. It makes Ogata want to hit him, just on principle. The whole group of guys from Sakahogigumi are annoying bastards, but Ogata's not nuts enough to start something with a serious gang. Red doesn't look too worried, though.
"Who'd they be, then?" Red asks, disdainful.
"Should we fuck these bastards up, banchou?" one of the Sakahogigumi guys asks the one who is, presumably, their leader.
"Nah, nah," Red says. He holds his pocky between two fingers like a cigarette, and waves it dismissively. "Ye should say, 'Oi, banchou, can't we fuck these bastards up yet?' Ye sound like a fuckin' schoolgirl." He sighs. "How 'bout we step outside, gents? Don't wanna make trouble for the ane-san, do we?" He's still casual and disdainful, even though everyone in the bar knows he can't get out of this without a serious fight.
"You piece of shit," the Sakahogigumi's banchou shouts, and rushes at Red.
Red doesn't flinch, doesn't even move. Just waits until the guy's fist is a half-inch from his head, then sticks a fist out at stomach level. Still calm, still casual, and the banchou goes down like someone hit him with a sledgehammer. It's like watching Yankumi fight all over again, and it's fucking scary - even more so because Yankumi at least shows some emotion when she fights.
"Wha'd'ya reckon, Kudoh? Just thrash 'em?"
"Unless you wanna give 'em a moral lecture," says the guy in the ladybug cap. He adds a belated, "Boss."
Red shakes his head. "That ain't me. Outside, then." He turns to leave, and his two henchmen turn with him. "Sorry 'bout the disturbance, ane-san," he calls back.
"Not at all, young master," the proprietress calls back from her place by the door to the kitchen. "Thank you very much for your help." Red waves back at her with his pocky.
"Hey, Ogata, we should be getting out of here." It's one of his classmates. The guy is obviously shaking at the knees. Ogata takes a last look at the front door, where the Sakahogigumi are rushing out to go after Red and his henchmen. Then he sighs, nods, and follows his classmates out the back door. Life just isn't fun anymore, now that he's respectable.
-----
"Ritsu-kun!"
He's five minutes early, but she's already here, and probably has been for at least half an hour. When he first started seeing her, he'd thought it was cute: she was so keen, like a young girl still in the blossom of her first love. Truth is, she's almost five years older than he is, and just likes to act young. It's why she dates younger guys, and wears such short skirts. It's like she's trying to compete with the high school girls that mill around this place, waiting for their disinterested high school dates so they can go be bored in an arcade together. It's all bullshit, anyway: the girls are only there so they can brag to their friends later, and the guys are only there because a guy that can't get a girl is a loser. Uesugi's found himself hating this sort of bullshit more and more over the years, but he can't see any way to get away from it.
"Ritsu-kun, I've been waiting." She pouts at him. On a five year old, that expression is cute; on a teenager, it's annoying but forgivable; a grown woman should not be wearing that expression. "You're late."
He's supposed to make up some bullshit excuse, even though he's not actually late - is, in fact, early - and then they can act all lovey-dovey and make up. But it's like there's a voice speaking in his head, repeating the words he's heard come out of that bastard Sawada's mouth every day for the past four fucking years. "It's all fuckin' bullshit, anyway," says the voice, and it sounds amused and disgusted just like Sawada always does when he says it. He hates the fucker, but four years of classes together means he knows the bastard far, far better than he ever wanted to; and ever since that conversation yesterday, he can't get Sawada's stupid voice out of his head.
"I'm not late," Uesugi says, 'cause somehow he just doesn't care anymore. That voice, that damn voice - he hears it ringing in his head, and he can't stand this false facing anymore. They start walking, headed into the crowded night street.
She's still pouting, but there's a glare hiding behind it now. "What's wrong, Ritsu-kun?" And then she asks the last question she should ever, ever have asked him. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
'Cause he's not. Not at all. It started as a lark: she was a beautiful older woman who would giggle like a schoolgirl, and later throw herself into his arms like an experienced woman. All the other guys were jealous, and for a while it had felt good: it was one thing that fucker Sawada could never take away from him. Not that Sawada would ever want to, the fuck: he'd taken one look at her and snorted, as though he saw through all her lies and pretensions and wasn't impressed at all. He's never hated Sawada as much as he did at that moment, but right now he's coming close.
He could fix this. It would be so easy. Some lie - a busy day at the office, delays on the train, whatever - and this whole thing will be smoothed over. They'll go window shopping, get a bite to eat, and he'll get laid tonight. Simple, smooth and predictable: it's the same routine they go through every week.
He can't do it. He opens his mouth, about to finally tell her 'no', and suddenly, not ten meters away, the door of a bar opens, and out walks the fuckin' devil himself. Even in the darkness his red hair is glowing, reflecting the neon signs and bright lights of the bar signs. He's shadowed by a pair of guys - bigger than he is, but not hugely. A mass of angry teens boils out of the bar door behind them.
So he says, "Watch out," instead, and draws her away from the group. But not so far away that he can't clearly see everything that's going on. Some guy takes a swing at Sawada, who leans back, cool as you please, and lets it whistle a hair in front of his nose. Arrogant bastard, Uesugi thinks, and it's all he has time for before Sawada is moving. He kicks his assailant in the knee, hard, and the guy crumples; he meets Sawada's fist on the way down. His head snaps back, and he collapses completely.
Another guy is closing on Sawada. The devil turns, moving like a snake to grab the guy around the neck. No, not the neck: that mad fucker has grabbed the guy's windpipe, and is squeezing. If the light was better, Uesugi would probably be able to see the poor bastard turning blue. Fuck. He's always known Sawada was crazy, but this goes beyond it: Sawada looks about to do murder, and he doesn't look like he gives a shit. Where did he learn to fight like that, anyway? It's a trivial thought to be having now, given what's going on, but Uesugi can't help but wonder. There's no martial arts club in the country that teaches this kind of fighting. Not even those delinquents at Shirokin would have fought like this.
"Ritsu-kun, let's go." Now that things aren't looking so calm and predictable, she's dropped the act. Her voice is serious and purposeful: she knows this is a bad place to be, and wants out of here pronto. But he doesn't want to leave. Looking at the destruction that Sawada and his two followers have wrecked on their eight opponents, he knows he's not going to see Sawada get the shit beaten out of him tonight. But he wishes he could. Now that, that would be something worth going to the ends of the world for. Looking down at Sawada, covered in blood and bruises and finally, finally beaten… he'd sell his soul for the chance to see it.
"Come on," she insists, and this time Uesugi lets her lead him away. He'll go with her tonight, one last time, and in the morning he'll cut all ties and walk away from it all. Uesugi's found his destiny tonight, here in this garish street, and it is bloody and brilliant. Well, he never had much use for his soul, anyway.
Title: Converts
Fandom: Gokusen
Rating: PG-13 for lots of swearing
Follows Return and Prodigal
It's times like this that make him miss high school. Yeah, going to school was kinda a pain, but things were more fun then. Like sneaking into bars. Now that he's an adult - more or less - it's somehow less fun. He's still not legally old enough to drink, but no one ever asks. They just assume he's a respectable university student. And the shitty part is, that's exactly what he's become. It makes him want to go out and find a fight, just to feel that old rush again.
There's some guys here that would be happy to oblige if he wants a fight. They're talking big, mouthing off to the staff and being general assholes. It's like they're hoping someone will get pissed enough to try and take them on, just so they can beat the shit out of the sorry bastard. Ogata wants a fight, but he's not stupid enough to get into one with this lot. Maybe with his old gang from 3D at his back, but not now. He's drinking with a couple of guys from class and, frankly, they're a pair of pansies. They'll probably run away at the first hint of violence.
"Don’t fuckin' look down on us," one of the troublemakers shouts. "We're from Sakahogigumi!" Just the fact that he's felt the need to shout it makes Ogata look down on him a bit. A glance around the room shows he's the only one who feels this way; everyone else looks terrified. Except…
"Ya done squallin', ya stupid brat?" There's a red-headed guy standing just inside the doorway - looks like he just arrived. He looks pretty much like any other young businessman out on the town, except for the red hair. He's wearing a decent suit and everything, the jacket hanging casually open for an evening at the bar. But somehow… yeah, somehow he's nothing like any other young businessman. He's slouching with his hands in his pockets, looking bored with the violent display of the Sakahogigumi, like he could kick the shit out of them if he really wanted, but right now he just can't be bothered.
There's two more guys slouched behind him. They're a bit older, and they don't look like businessmen at all. One's got dyed blond hair cut in a classic gangster style and a shirt with an awful, garish print. He's chewing on a piece of pocky. The other one is dressed more normally, except for the ladybug cap. It actually fits him, so he probably didn't steal it off some little kid, but it's still not the sort of thing an self-respecting adult would wear. He makes it look badass though, which is totally unfair. Ogata wishes he could pull that sort of thing off, but knows he'll never be enough of a thug.
"You wanna fight, bastard?" snarls one of the guys from Sakahogigumi.
Red shrugs. "Not really." He puts a hand over his shoulder towards the blond thug. "Minoru. Pocky." The blond hand him a piece, and Red sticks it in his mouth like a cigarette. He shouldn't look so intimidating, doing that. Behind him, Ogata can sense his two classmates edging away, no doubt hoping to get out of here before actual violence erupts. "Ya said ya were from Sakahogigumi, ne?"
"Got that right, bastard." There's some serious pride in the thug's voice. It makes Ogata want to hit him, just on principle. The whole group of guys from Sakahogigumi are annoying bastards, but Ogata's not nuts enough to start something with a serious gang. Red doesn't look too worried, though.
"Who'd they be, then?" Red asks, disdainful.
"Should we fuck these bastards up, banchou?" one of the Sakahogigumi guys asks the one who is, presumably, their leader.
"Nah, nah," Red says. He holds his pocky between two fingers like a cigarette, and waves it dismissively. "Ye should say, 'Oi, banchou, can't we fuck these bastards up yet?' Ye sound like a fuckin' schoolgirl." He sighs. "How 'bout we step outside, gents? Don't wanna make trouble for the ane-san, do we?" He's still casual and disdainful, even though everyone in the bar knows he can't get out of this without a serious fight.
"You piece of shit," the Sakahogigumi's banchou shouts, and rushes at Red.
Red doesn't flinch, doesn't even move. Just waits until the guy's fist is a half-inch from his head, then sticks a fist out at stomach level. Still calm, still casual, and the banchou goes down like someone hit him with a sledgehammer. It's like watching Yankumi fight all over again, and it's fucking scary - even more so because Yankumi at least shows some emotion when she fights.
"Wha'd'ya reckon, Kudoh? Just thrash 'em?"
"Unless you wanna give 'em a moral lecture," says the guy in the ladybug cap. He adds a belated, "Boss."
Red shakes his head. "That ain't me. Outside, then." He turns to leave, and his two henchmen turn with him. "Sorry 'bout the disturbance, ane-san," he calls back.
"Not at all, young master," the proprietress calls back from her place by the door to the kitchen. "Thank you very much for your help." Red waves back at her with his pocky.
"Hey, Ogata, we should be getting out of here." It's one of his classmates. The guy is obviously shaking at the knees. Ogata takes a last look at the front door, where the Sakahogigumi are rushing out to go after Red and his henchmen. Then he sighs, nods, and follows his classmates out the back door. Life just isn't fun anymore, now that he's respectable.
-----
"Ritsu-kun!"
He's five minutes early, but she's already here, and probably has been for at least half an hour. When he first started seeing her, he'd thought it was cute: she was so keen, like a young girl still in the blossom of her first love. Truth is, she's almost five years older than he is, and just likes to act young. It's why she dates younger guys, and wears such short skirts. It's like she's trying to compete with the high school girls that mill around this place, waiting for their disinterested high school dates so they can go be bored in an arcade together. It's all bullshit, anyway: the girls are only there so they can brag to their friends later, and the guys are only there because a guy that can't get a girl is a loser. Uesugi's found himself hating this sort of bullshit more and more over the years, but he can't see any way to get away from it.
"Ritsu-kun, I've been waiting." She pouts at him. On a five year old, that expression is cute; on a teenager, it's annoying but forgivable; a grown woman should not be wearing that expression. "You're late."
He's supposed to make up some bullshit excuse, even though he's not actually late - is, in fact, early - and then they can act all lovey-dovey and make up. But it's like there's a voice speaking in his head, repeating the words he's heard come out of that bastard Sawada's mouth every day for the past four fucking years. "It's all fuckin' bullshit, anyway," says the voice, and it sounds amused and disgusted just like Sawada always does when he says it. He hates the fucker, but four years of classes together means he knows the bastard far, far better than he ever wanted to; and ever since that conversation yesterday, he can't get Sawada's stupid voice out of his head.
"I'm not late," Uesugi says, 'cause somehow he just doesn't care anymore. That voice, that damn voice - he hears it ringing in his head, and he can't stand this false facing anymore. They start walking, headed into the crowded night street.
She's still pouting, but there's a glare hiding behind it now. "What's wrong, Ritsu-kun?" And then she asks the last question she should ever, ever have asked him. "Aren't you happy to see me?"
'Cause he's not. Not at all. It started as a lark: she was a beautiful older woman who would giggle like a schoolgirl, and later throw herself into his arms like an experienced woman. All the other guys were jealous, and for a while it had felt good: it was one thing that fucker Sawada could never take away from him. Not that Sawada would ever want to, the fuck: he'd taken one look at her and snorted, as though he saw through all her lies and pretensions and wasn't impressed at all. He's never hated Sawada as much as he did at that moment, but right now he's coming close.
He could fix this. It would be so easy. Some lie - a busy day at the office, delays on the train, whatever - and this whole thing will be smoothed over. They'll go window shopping, get a bite to eat, and he'll get laid tonight. Simple, smooth and predictable: it's the same routine they go through every week.
He can't do it. He opens his mouth, about to finally tell her 'no', and suddenly, not ten meters away, the door of a bar opens, and out walks the fuckin' devil himself. Even in the darkness his red hair is glowing, reflecting the neon signs and bright lights of the bar signs. He's shadowed by a pair of guys - bigger than he is, but not hugely. A mass of angry teens boils out of the bar door behind them.
So he says, "Watch out," instead, and draws her away from the group. But not so far away that he can't clearly see everything that's going on. Some guy takes a swing at Sawada, who leans back, cool as you please, and lets it whistle a hair in front of his nose. Arrogant bastard, Uesugi thinks, and it's all he has time for before Sawada is moving. He kicks his assailant in the knee, hard, and the guy crumples; he meets Sawada's fist on the way down. His head snaps back, and he collapses completely.
Another guy is closing on Sawada. The devil turns, moving like a snake to grab the guy around the neck. No, not the neck: that mad fucker has grabbed the guy's windpipe, and is squeezing. If the light was better, Uesugi would probably be able to see the poor bastard turning blue. Fuck. He's always known Sawada was crazy, but this goes beyond it: Sawada looks about to do murder, and he doesn't look like he gives a shit. Where did he learn to fight like that, anyway? It's a trivial thought to be having now, given what's going on, but Uesugi can't help but wonder. There's no martial arts club in the country that teaches this kind of fighting. Not even those delinquents at Shirokin would have fought like this.
"Ritsu-kun, let's go." Now that things aren't looking so calm and predictable, she's dropped the act. Her voice is serious and purposeful: she knows this is a bad place to be, and wants out of here pronto. But he doesn't want to leave. Looking at the destruction that Sawada and his two followers have wrecked on their eight opponents, he knows he's not going to see Sawada get the shit beaten out of him tonight. But he wishes he could. Now that, that would be something worth going to the ends of the world for. Looking down at Sawada, covered in blood and bruises and finally, finally beaten… he'd sell his soul for the chance to see it.
"Come on," she insists, and this time Uesugi lets her lead him away. He'll go with her tonight, one last time, and in the morning he'll cut all ties and walk away from it all. Uesugi's found his destiny tonight, here in this garish street, and it is bloody and brilliant. Well, he never had much use for his soul, anyway.