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mnetruinedmylife · 5 years

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Majisuka Gakuen 4 Redux

Chapter 1

It’s a sunny spring morning that sees the start of the school term.

Perhaps in a more civilized part of town, there may be students in their freshly pressed uniforms and book bags disembarking from buses and hurrying along the streets to their schools. That would not be a common sight in this particular area.

Instead, the beginning of school year in southern Tokyo sees young adolescents leisurely wandering the streets in packs, while donning a mockery of the uniform regulations: ripped up sleeves, ankle length skirts, pipes or baseball bats slung over one shoulder, bright dye in their hair, and smoke and violence trailing in their wake.

Majisuka Jyogakuen has always boasted some of the more infamous delinquents, and the grounds reflect as such. With students loitering about in the courtyard, if they deem it fit to show up at all. The old brick walls are scribbled all over in all manner of paints and pens, depicting obscenities, names and threats, and even random declarations of power. The corridors are somehow even more chaotic, with students clamouring over each other in the tight spaces, a stray swing of a fist here, bits of broken glass littering the floor, a vicious kick there, all in the hopes of furthering their positions on the school’s hierarchy for the upcoming year.

Upon the second floor corridor, the smell of cooking food wafts throughout the halls. This year it appears to be a familiar scent of cooking meat, only now it’s not so much smoky grilled, but steamed and complemented with a rich broth smelling of tantalising spices. The second year students have vacated the hall, lest they become a little too tempted to burst through the third classroom from the stairs and do something stupid.

Inside said classroom, sits a dozen students who have become rather desensitized to the mouth-watering aroma of the hotpot-of-the-day in past year, and five girls in red jerseys crowd around a boiling pot, simmering to the brim with mushrooms and vegetables.

For Team Hinabe, this is more than just the start to a new year, it’s the year they stake their claim on the school. First years are hardly ever taken seriously, and so second year is the crucial moment that decides their trajectory for the rest of their high school careers. The team’s founder and captain Uonome, is deep in thought as she stares at the bubbling broth.

There are so many different ways they can do this, but honestly, she can’t see most of them ending in success. Majisuka Jyogakuen, like most delinquent yankee schools in the area, is organised based on strength. The hierarchy is almost entirely a show of physical and martial power – unfortunately, as she looks at each of her contemporaries around the stove –

“You put something disgusting in it again,” Dodobusu complains, giving the piece of tripe lying limply on the ladle a nauseated glare as though it had somehow personally offended her.

Kusogaki probably is personally offended because she’s quick to chime in with a rather juvenile, “The only disgusting thing here is your face!”

“What? Say that again after looking into a mirror!” Dodobusu’s reply isn’t exactly much more mature.

Predictably Kusogaki is quick to grab onto the collar of her teammate’s jersey menacingly, but before any threats (or acts) of violence can get uttered, Jisedai interrupts with an exaggerated eye roll, “Oh shut up. Can’t I eat in peace?”

The final member of her team, Kenpou chimes in with, “Article 14: the general populace are equal by law, that is to say they are not to be discriminated by race, religion, gender or by their face.”

Uonome curses the nitwit who planted the idea of going to law school in Kenpou’s head. Her teammate has been speaking entirely in verses of Japanese law for months. If she isn’t so annoyed, she might’ve actually been impressed at how Kenpou managed to still participate in most conversations with such…restrictions.

“It’s too early for you to be talking Kenpou!” Kusogaki moans, rubbing her forehead as though thinking is actually causing her pain and the entire group descends into more and more juvenile squabbling.

Just as they’re reaching ‘I know you are, but what am I?’ levels, Uonome succeeds in becoming temporarily deaf. Why yes, Uonome thinks sardonically, there’s a lot of fearsome power to be seen here. Luckily though, an invaluable source of information drops onto their lap this year in the form of an old friend and mentor.

Wota, now known as Scandal, former leader of Team Hormone and a member of Maeda’s (technically Otabe’s) Rappapa, has returned from her exile to Fukuoka.

Scooping a generous serving of the broth into a bowl, Uonome offers it to her returning senpai, “Neechan, the hinabe is ready.”

“Thanks,” the green jersey clad girl takes the bowl while wondering when the food thing became so extravagant.

It had started with Scandal – or Wota as she went by back then, eating her lunch in class because she was hungry. When the teacher said nothing, she started doing it just because she could. Then Bungee started bringing her food, and then Unagi lugged a grill she found on the side of the road in one day, and then they’d started grilling hormone in class because who the hell was going to stop them? It appears the tradition has gotten more ridiculous over the years because Team Hinabe actually has an entire cooler set aside for themselves, filled with raw ingredients and condiments.

“Where are you guys getting the money to have hotpot every day?” Scandal is still a little incredulous at the whole thing. She remembers squabbling with her teammates over who had to pay for the hormone every week, and they were the cheapest cuts of meat you could get.

“Fighting, duh,” Kusogaki says in a matter-of-fact tone, and Scandal is reminded that this particular food-themed-team formed a little differently than most in Majijo did.

“That and Kenpou is rich,” Jisedai adds wryly.

“Sh! Article 13: every individual has the liberty of protecting his or her own personal information from being disclosed to a third party or made public without good reason!” Kenpou hisses, eyes flickering around the room warily.

“Oh relax, like anyone’s going to steal from us,” Dodobusu waves off her worries dismissively.

“It’s been a long time right Neechan?” Uonome steers the conversation away from that because the last thing she needs is for Kusogaki to start making loud declarations of how no one has the guts to challenge them, and well of course, those kinds of boasts result in just that, “How long were you suspended for?” she wonders aloud.

Scandal resists the urge to knock the kid on the head, she knew exactly how long Scandal has been gone for, “Two years brat. They sent me to Fukuoka you know? Just when I had the chance to be Vice-Captain too.”

“Oh yeah, it was the thing right?” Kusogaki asks, and the little rascal has the audacity to make the sign for ‘lover’ at her.

Scandal shoots her a poisonous glare and wonders when these punks got so bold. Probably in the two years she was gone. God did she hate Nezumi sometimes. That sneaky rat set her up. Scandal takes a bite of a mushroom and decides to change the subject before she slams a head into the boiling pot, Otabe probably won’t appreciate that – also she really needs to graduate soon and causing grievous bodily harm to her juniors is counterproductive to that, “Anyway, what’s been going on lately? How’s my team doing?”

“...how are we supposed to know? The last of Team Hormone graduated when I was a first year, like my actual first year,” Uonome says incredulously. Surely being sent to Fukuoka couldn’t have damaged Scandal’s memory that much?

“Not Team Hormone, I still talk to them. I meant you lot you genius,” Scandal points out, grinning through her teeth, knowing full well that it would rile them up.

“We’re not your team! They’re my team!” Uonome as always, is completely indignant over any insinuation that the formation of Team Hinabe isn’t a hundred percent due to her.

“Uh-huh, sure. Who convinced you make a team again?” Scandal takes great delight in needling the younger girl. It’s hilarious when she goes a little purple, but to Scandal’s surprise, Uonome remains relatively calm. That’s a good sign, guess the kid is making progress after all.

“Whatever. We’re doing good. We practically run this school you know, we keep the other schools in line,” Uonome is also a boastful braggart, but that part isn’t new.

“Really now?” Scandal says indulgently, before looking around in mock confusion, “This doesn’t look like the Rappapa club room to me. I thought you had to be Rappapa to be on top? Or has that changed in the last two years?”

Uonome scowls, and it’s Jisedai who answers her, “Nah, Rappapa’s still technically in charge.”

Scandal feels an eyebrow rise, “Technically?” now this has got to be interesting.

“They’re still the strongest around, but their presence has faded quite a bit,” Dodobusu explains in a way that isn’t really an explanation, like she’s hedging her answers because she’s afraid Scandal won’t like it.

“Elaborate,” Scandal demands flatly. Because last she checked, Otabe is still stomping around school (something about avoiding her father, Scandal hasn’t exactly been able to pry much out of her), and so the Rappapa can’t have gotten that weak over the last two years.

“Well, they’re still monstrously strong as ever. On a technical scale, you could probably say they’re actually one of the strongest Rappapa teams in the history of Rappapa. But well...compared to Yuko’s time...” Uonome sighs, and rubs her temples, as if this is a problem that has been plaguing her for years. It probably has been, “They just don’t care.”

Scandal frowns and makes waving motions in the air with her chopsticks, “Keep elaborating.”

“Like, Shibuya used to push people around for fun. Black was quiet but terrifying when she got serious. Gekikara was a nightmare no more explanation needed there. No one messes with Sado, I mean, her nickname was Sado. When Torigoya got going, you got the fuck away. And Yuko was the psycho who smiled when she jumped into twelve vs one fights. This Rappapa prefers to just keep to themselves, if you pick a fight with one of them directly, they’ll make you sorry for it – well Yoga makes you sorry for it – but if you just beat up a random Majijo gang, they don’t care. We’re getting kinda scared that the other schools might get it into their heads that they can start attacking Majijo without any consequences.”

Scandal blinks, taking that in, “Well...can’t say I’m that surprised. Disappointed, but not really surprised. Otabe was always passive. She only ever got off her ass when Yabakune declared all-out war. I’m just surprised she has a Rappapa who aren’t itching for a fight. Lord knows we were seconds away from mutiny-ing in my third year.”

Dodobusu starts counting down using the fingers on her left hand, “Bakamono is really the only one who fights for fun but Otabe has her on a pretty tight leash. Magic is unmotivated unless it amuses her, Yoga only gets barely motivated if you get in her way or try to challenge the Rappapa, and Salt is apathy made human.”

“Exactly, I’d rather run into one of Salt’s Rappapa in a dark alley than Yuko’s any day,” Jisedai says, “Technically better fighters or not, there’s no fear factor, Salt’s more likely to yawn at me than beat me up.”

“Hold up,” Scandal places a hand out in front of her, brain struggling to come to terms with what she just heard, “Did you just say Salt’s Rappapa? That salty bitch is the president of Rappapa!?”

“Oh yeah, Salt became president last year,” Uonome states casually, like the information didn’t just fry Scandal’s brain.

“How? Why? What? Who the hell thought...I thought she didn’t give a shit about the presidency? She barely agreed to be a Queen.”

Dodobusu snorts, “She still doesn’t give a shit. See, after you left, there was a huge fight for the open Rappapa positions. Then Nezumi’s father forcibly transferred her to a private school, something about a politician having a daughter in a yankee school not looking good for him. And without her, Centre dropped out and joined the army. So that was most of the Rappapa gone, and there was a huge power vacuum.”

“And what? Salt decided that then was the perfect time to knock Otabe off her throne? Actually, what did happen to Otabe?” Scandal presses, perhaps she should’ve kept in closer contact with her friends back in Majijo, because this is just a little too interesting to have missed.

“Article 230 subsection 1 of the Penal Code: A person who defames another by alleging facts in public shall, regardless of whether such facts are true or false, be punished,” Kenpou says solemnly, earning a blank look from Scandal.

“…translation?”

“It means we don’t know, and this is one of those rare topics that they actually care about. So if we keep talking about it, someone might snitch and Yoga will beat us black and blue,” Uonome explains in a strangely cheerful tone.

“Huh...I have a feeling I need a nice long chat with Otabe sometime soon,” Scandal muses, she’s missed out on so much, “So where does this put you lot this year? Planning on challenging the Rappapa?”

Jisedai snorts, “As if. Salt is a monster, and Bakamono nearly killed Kusogaki that one time – ”

“—hey I nearly beat her!” Kusogaki exclaims indignantly, only to wilt with a half-hearted, “I was only kicked back by like thirteen metres.”

“Article 37 Subsection 1: An act unavoidably performed to avert a present danger to the life, body, liberty or property of oneself or any other person is not punishable,” Kenpou growls threateningly at Kusogaki, who merely stares back at her blankly.

“In other words, we will beat you up and tie you down ourselves if you pick a fight with Bakamono again. In one kick she broke your wrist, cracked three of your ribs, fractured your shoulder blade and gave you a concussion,” Jisedai deadpans as Kusogaki sulks into her bowl of hinabe.

“The concrete wall did most of that.”

“Anyway, they’re all third years, so they’ll be gone by next year – well maybe not Otabe, if the past few years are anything to go by. But they’ll mostly be gone, and we’ll take on the Rappapa title. Not like it’ll change much, we’ve been pretty much doing their jobs for them anyway,” Uonome says.

“I don’t know whether to commend you on your dedication to Majijo, or be disappointed in your lack of confidence,” Scandal says wryly.

“Well, Majijo first right? That’s what you taught us neechan.”

“Damn right I did. Well, Salt is the president huh?” Scandal chuckles, which then transforms into full blown laughter, clearly finding something that only she knows funny.

The members of Team Hinabe exchange a look of concern, “...Should that be that funny?” Dodobusu asks uncertainly.

“Nah, this is just gonna be an interesting year is all,” Scandal says, though the full teeth grin does nothing to dispel the rest of them of suspicions.

“You know something,” Uonome accuses.

“I might,” Scandal shrugs non-committaly.

“And you aren’t going to tell your poor ‘team’ about it? After all, you helped found us,” Dodobusu says innocently.

“Laying it on a bit thick aren’t you? Just ten minutes ago, you were denying that. Very loudly too.”

Whatever Scandal is going to say is interrupted by a very loud crash as someone goes careening into a desk. The girl who steps through the door – and clearly the one who kicked the other poor girl over (something Haruka?) – is not one who looks familiar.

The new girl walks over to an empty desk and sits down.

“Here’s a hint for you kids,” Scandal says, shit-eating grin still ever present on her face, “Stay away from the transfer student. Sakura’s been in a volatile mood lately.”

Uonome blinks, “You know her?”

“Went to my school in Fukuoka. She’s dangerous.”

“Ch,” Dodobusu glances over the girl with her hair cropped to her shoulders, “Bendy Legs over there doesn’t look too tough to me.”

“Don’t say senpai didn’t warn you.”

“Article 38 subsection 3: Lacking knowledge of law shall not be deemed lacking the intention.”

“I don’t know what that means kid.”

__________)

Meanwhile, two floors above Team Hinabe’s classroom, sits a particularly spacious attic that the Rappapa have commandeered for their clubroom. It’s a somewhat dark space, with the one lightbulb perpetually turned off, and the only light source being the rays of sun streaming through the windows.

Magic has set herself up under the area with the most sunlight, citing that all good magicians perform in full view and don’t rely on something as cheap as darkness to hide their tricks. She shuffles her deck of playing cards and spreads them out over the table as Bakamono watches in rapt attention.

“This is your card,” Magic states with a clear certainty while flipping over a queen of diamonds.

“Yup!” Bakamono nods excitedly, clapping her hands together with enthusiasm, “That was awesome!”

“How many times are you going to amuse her with the same trick?” comes Yoga’s bemused voice from the table she’s meditating on.

Magic’s eyes flicker over to where Yoga is sitting in her default pose, “Is somebody jealous that I’m not paying attention to her?”

“Don’t be childish. I’m just sick of seeing you do ‘pick a card’ for the last three days,” Yoga sighs dramatically, trying to get rid of the memories

“Alright then,” Magic acquiesces with a too-smug-to-be-innocent grin, before pulling out a cup, which immediately catches the attention of Otabe.

“Oh no, not this one,” the elder girl drops the hacky-sacks she’d been playing with and sits up from her armchair with a groan that predicts an incoming headache, “Don’t you dare –”

“ – Tada!” Magic ploughs on, ignoring Otabe as she seemingly drops a coin through the solid upturned glass cup and onto the table.

“Whoa! That was like magic! How’d you do that?” Bakamono exclaims, picking up the glass for inspection.

“Bakamono it’s solid,” Otabe says in the tone of a person who has long passed exasperation and is now stating things out of obligation, “Don’t –”

“—can it pass through the table too?” Bakamono throws the cup onto the table, wincing as it smashes into pieces, “Oops,” she mutters sheepishly while Otabe lets out a long sigh.

“If I step on a shard of glass, I’m going to choke you out Magic,” Yoga warns without opening her eyes.

“Kinky,” Magic smirks, but her attention is on the door on the far side of the room, the one plastered in ‘solt’ stickers.

They’d made quite a commotion.

Sure enough, it slams open with a bang. A rather bleary eyed and irate girl stumbles out.

“Salt-san!” Bakamono (who is clearly unable to read the atmosphere) bounds forward with an exuberant greeting, “Good morn – ow!” only to be rudely interrupted by a fist to the face.

Salt’s voice is hoarse, likely due to sleep and disuse, “Shut. Up.”

Wow just two words Magic notes, and mentally adds a reminder to stay away from Salt for the next few hours. At least until their president manages to get enough sleep to resemble a functional human being.

“Was that really necessary?” Otabe asks mildly, pulling Bakamono up from the ground. Not that she actually needs the help (Salt is usually more bark than bite), but Bakamono looks like a kicked puppy and sometimes if left alone, she would just sulk on the floor like a child.

“Don’t you start. I don’t need a lecture this morning Ota—” Salt stops mid-sentence and looks down, “There is glass on the floor.”

“Magic will be cleaning that up,” Otabe says like it’s a fact, and Magic will very much like to contest that.

“What? Bakamono broke it,” she points out, and rather reasonably too, if she does say so herself.

The meditating one with her eyes closed this entire time apparently believes otherwise, “You knew exactly what would happen when did that trick. So you clean it up.”

“Shut up Yoga. Mind your own damn business,” Magic snaps back.

“Magic – ” Otabe starts.

“—No,” Magic interjects before the elder girl can start lecturing, and wonders if disappearing for the rest of the day will make Otabe forget, the elder girl is wonderfully absentminded about unimportant stuff like that.

“Magic. Clean. End of discussion,” Salt states.

And that is that. Magic isn’t in a belligerent enough mood to argue with Salt this morning, so she changes the subject, “So…I hear there’s a second year transfer student starting today.”

Otabe grins, “Is that right? Second year transfers are always interesting. She might even liven the place up, right Salt?”

“Whatever,” Salt disappears back into her private room, most likely to take another nap on her red sofa.

“Well she’s fun today,” Otabe comments dryly when the door clicks shut, before taking the conversation back to the previous topic, “The last second year transfer student was you, right Yoga? Isn’t this nostalgic?”

“From what I hear, you were a transfer too,” Yoga points out. Her transfer from Sutegoro had been…rocky to say that least. But this isn’t that story.

“Third year,” Otabe clarifies, sounding almost a little disappointed, “All the interesting ones are second years.”

Bakamono chooses this moment to chime in with a cheeky, “Oh that’s right, you came in your third year. Oi Otabe,” she pokes her fingers at the dark blue collar of Otabe’s seifuku, “Just how long have you been at this school for?”

“Idiot,” Magic mutters as Otabe slams Bakamono into a wall. Trust the moron to push Otabe’s one berserk button after triggering Salt’s.

“It’s all about the timing you understand? If you don’t understand, I’ll rearrange your brain and perhaps then you’ll understand.”

“Sorry sorry sorry!”

Yoga cracks open an eye and smiles at the scene, from Bakamono falling over apologising, to Otabe glowering over her, and Magic shuffling a deck of cards while pretending that she’s not watching the proceedings highly amused, to even Salt who is most likely listening to them, because they’re all being loud and she hasn’t come out to kill them again.

All in all, it’s shaping up to be a usual, boring school year.

_______________)

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