AN: Special thanks to SoapAndTIW for her help with Japan's Middle School culture.
Methods of Persuasion
Some things you feel like you've known all your life, so much so that you can't recall learning them for the first time. For Jonouchi Katsuya, two things in particular stood out. The first was knowing when a malicious party was watching him. The second was gauging how disadvantaged he was compared to them.
And, usually, he was always at a disadvantage. Maybe it wasn't actually the case, but he was short and gaunt and didn't have much in the way of self-confidence. And he could easily fit into a half-sized locker, which sucked too. He was still waiting for that growth spurt promised by his lineage.
But he was fast and good at improvising, both of which made it more and more of a challenge for the bullies to get him. He never really understood why they went after him; his lunches were never all that great, he wasn't the class nerd, no one would miss him if he suddenly upped and disappeared, and he certainly didn't have any money. Still, it was like they could smell him from hallways away. And Shinju Middle School's bullies were infamous, even beyond the school's own rotting walls.
Nowadays, he'd slowed down a little. He still managed to kick it into gear when danger came his way but he was tired all the time and it didn't help that be got an average of four hours of sleep a night and ran on a diet of empty calories and tap water. A thirteen-year-old whose body was already glitching on him, not exactly a good sign.
And maybe his wits were packing up and leaving too. Then, again, maybe not. Because, well, let's admit it, it's a small school and there was no such thing as a good hiding place anymore.
Jonouchi jabbed at the hardened ball of rice in his so-called bento, trying to break it into bite-sized pieces with his chopsticks. It wasn't exactly onigiri, although he'd like to think it was and made the effort to make it more appetizing by sprinkling it with salt and vinegar. He had an orange today, which was a plus and he was pretty proud of himself for learning how to cut it properly even with a knife so blunt it may as well have been a spatula.
It was raining lightly so most of his classmates decided to stay indoors for lunch, though many of them escaped into the halls to eat with their friends from other classes or to find a quiet place for some last-minute studying before their algebra test. Jonouchi remained in his seat, too lethargic to go anywhere but still managing to summon the energy to work away at his lunch.
The sharp screech of metal scraping against the tiled floor caught his attention, Jonouchi freezing where he sat when he looked up. He took a deep breath and turned away when Hirutani pulled the chair from the desk in front of him up to his own and made himself comfortable. He sat in it backwards, one leg hanging over each side.
"Hey," Jonouchi said coolly. Hirutani only caused him trouble when no one else more appealing was in his line of vision and he took great satisfaction in knowing that his victims were afraid. But the guy was also unpredictable and he'd been lying low lately. Relatively speaking, that was.
Hirutani said nothing, instead, pulling his book bag onto his lap and rummaging around in it. Jonouchi thought he was getting out his lunch but all he produced was a worn water bottle with the label torn off and a small Styrofoam cup. Dropping the bag, he unscrewed the lid and poured a tiny bit of it in the cup, sliding it nonchalantly towards Jonouchi. He grinned, his eyes devious as he extended a hand in invitation.
The stuff sure didn't smell like water. It was like antiseptic, but sweeter, in a way. Jonouchi vaguely recalled what it was but he was more familiar with the smell of his dad's beers. He might have whiffed this once or twice before but he couldn't put his finger on what it was called. The name would come to him, eventually. He took another discreet whiff and quickly checked to see if anyone was watching them.
When Jonouchi made no move to take it, Hirutani took a quick swig from his bottle as if to prove that it wasn't poisoned. "It's one-sixty-proof. From America." Beneath the desk Jonouchi felt a sharp kick against his right toe.
He didn't want to show that he was hesitating so he snatched it up and dumped it down his throat. It wasn't enough liquid to be a mouthful but it stung all the way down and burned his empty stomach. "Thank you." It was the best he could come up with as he slid the cup back to Hirutani and his insides collapsed into itself.
Hirutani poured him some more, about a fifth of the cup this time. He sat the bottle off to the side and picked up Jonouchi's eraser, playing with it. "You haven't been looking so good lately." He said.
Even with the alcohol glazing his breath, Jonouchi could still smell the stench in it. Halitosis, one of the first big words he'd learned (sadly). And it wasn't the normal kind of bad breath either, this was… a medical problem. "Nah man, I've been the same as always."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
Hirutani leaned forward, flicking the cup towards Jonouchi with two fingers. "Well what about that job of yours?" He made the question sound casual, but it was definitely laced with something else. "You're a, what? Paper boy or something?"
No one was supposed to know. Jonouchi found himself reaching for the cup again, as if to diffuse the would-be consequences of concealing this secret by doing what the bigger boy wanted. The thing kicking around in his stomach got bigger as he fuelled it some more. "Yeah. I'm helping out my dad's friend. It's legit. He's short on people, is all."
Hirutani snorted, "Your dad has friends?"
He didn't answer. For some reason, he wasn't sure if he'd imagined that comment or if it was real.
"How much do you make?"
Jonouchi dared to pick up the chopsticks he'd left stabbed in his rice. He really needed to eat something and felt a lot better after two bites. Hirutani didn't prompt him, which was surprising, but he figured he shouldn't push his luck. "I make so, so," he replied, still chewing.
"What's 'so, so?'"
"You know," he struggled to swallow, "About as much as a paperboy makes. The usual."
Hirutani's face darkened and the thumping of the eraser on Jonouchi's desk stopped momentarily. "Do I look like a paperboy to you? How the hell am I supposed to know how much they make?"
The blond's first instinct was to lie. The other boy had just told him he didn't know better, after all. But he didn't know if he should go under or over. It was a catch-22 and his brain was taking way too long to come up with something convincing. The truth took a lot less work, "About four thousand yen a week."
The bigger boy laughed, "That's just enough to pay me back for what I just gave you."
Jonouchi was stunned.
"Relax!" Hirutani leaned back, rocking in his chair a bit, "I was kidding."
Except that Hirutani didn't kid.
"You should see the look on your face right now!" The other boy reached across the table to slap a large hand on his shoulder, "Just for that, here's another."
And it wasn't exactly what Jonouchi wanted to hear because the things he was hearing was already starting to muffle and he had to blink a lot to keep his head from spinning. Not to mention, it felt like there was a war going on in his stomach and the rice was losing. He looked down to see the cup in front of his face once more.
"I'm starting a business." Hirutani said, spinning the eraser between thumb and forefinger, "And I need some decent guys to make it work."
Jonouchi went to pick up his chopsticks but the other's hand shot out to stop him. Startled, he turned up to stare at Hirutani, who only grinned and directed his attention to the drink.
"I don't need a lot of guys, just four, maybe five. But they gotta be really good."
The class was about half-full, but a quick look around told him no one was paying attention to them. Conversation, however, had died down some. They were well-aware and wanted to keep their distance.
"If things work out the way I want them to, we'll make a killing. At least ten times the amount you make as a paperboy."
The blond's short-circuiting brain immediately honed in on the word 'you.'
"And," Hirutani grinned like a cat who'd just had his fill of cream, "You'd actually have a chance at paying off your dad's debt."
Jonouchi groaned, his head dipping forward. Clutching his stomach, he took a few deep breaths and straightened himself when the nausea finally passed. It was an automatic, almost reflexive, action and he could do nothing to stop it. Hirutani's expression hadn't changed when he looked up but he knew the other was satisfied. Worse than how sick he felt, however, was the clear fact that his on-and-off bully knew this much about him. His best response was to shake his head no.
The bully feigned a sigh, running his hand through his short blue ponytail. He then snatched a slice of orange from Jonouchi lunchbox and shoved the fleshy part in his mouth with one hand. He left it there and the big, orange grin would have been funny if Hirutani's steel-toed foot wasn't pressing down hard on Jonouchi's worn tennis shoe at the same time.
When he pulled the slice of orange out, the rind was clean. "Okay so we're not best buddies or anything and you're probably pissed at me for being me and whatever but," He pressed his foot harder and harder until Jonouchi's eyes watered and he could no longer hold back the pained grunt, "I've always liked you. I don't, you know, show it and crap, but I like you."
"What?" Jonouchi hadn't meant that exactly but his mouth was being dumb at the moment.
The older boy eased off on his foot, though no completely. "Like don't let it get to your head or anything but you're a smart kid. And you're fast as fuck." Hirutani stared off into space for a moment, as if to recall an example of his proclamation and swore to himself again. The second time sounded far more genuine and far more resentful.
Maybe it was Jonouchi's imagination but the room had thinned out quite a bit. He managed to pull his foot away but it still sang with pain. "Not really," he muttered.
"No, but you're better than most of the losers around here. Which is good enough." He chomped on another slice of orange, tossing the skin back into Jonouchi's lunchbox.
Jonouchi ground his jaw, hoping whatever came out next wasn't slurred, "I'm no good for anything, man."
"Don't be so hard on yourself."
"I mean it. I'll just get in your way."
"Hasn't stopped us before."
The blond said nothing.
"Hey guys," Hirutani snapped his fingers in the air and four familiar faces approached them. Three gathered around the bully while one stood directly behind Jonouchi. The body heat radiating from him and his nasally breathing made Jonouchi shrink into himself. "What do you think?"
They'd come out of nowhere. Jonouchi was sure of it. He'd thought he was aware of who was in the classroom and who wasn't. But now he wasn't sure anymore. And, not only that, they'd somehow been listening to their conversation.
The one behind him slapped his back hard enough for him to pitch forward. Jonouchi had always referred to him as the 'colourful one.' His face was red with heavy acne, his bloated lips, even redder. His hair was purple, his jacket a bright orange; he wore a lime-green tuque and his thick, round glasses freakishly magnified his hazel-brown eyes. "Don't be so hard on yourself, man."
Hirutani gloated as the rest assented, and they were good enough to make it feel like they were closing in on him. His face went hot and the nausea stirred again.
"Basically, you're the one keeping me from getting this business going, man. Are you going to be that guy?"
"You don't need me," Jonouchi said meekly.
"What the fuck do you think I'm talking to you for?" It was the first time, if memory served him right, that Hirutani lost his temper. No, wait, it wasn't.
"You're only fifteen. What do you know about business anyways?"
No, no, no, no! What did he just say? His chair scraped the ground as Hirutani threw himself forward and grabbed Jonouchi by the collar, yanking him out of his seat. The older boy was so much bigger and stronger than him that Jonouchi's feet almost lifted the ground. Hirutani had no qualms about bringing Jonouchi's face right up close to his own and the smell of his breath was just so unbearably wretched that the vomit actually made it all the way to the back of Jonouchi's throat.
In the commotion, both the uncapped bottle and the cup were knocked over, the contents of both spreading across Jonouchi's desk and dripping over the edge onto his book bag. Hirutani glanced down for a split second, cursed under his breath, then turned attention back to Jonouchi. The long, purposefully-drawn out pause was more agonizing than anything he could have said. But when Hirutani finally spoke, he didn't have to say much to make the blond shake, "You're gonna be forking up the cash for that."
Mr. Colourful made sure Jonouchi was back in place when Hirutani let him go and whatever clarity he had left was deeply ashamed of how obvious it was that he was scared. He considered agreeing to their offer, if only because of how tired and sick and fearful he was.
But Hirutani wasn't done. Reaching for his book bag again, he pulled out a small, expensive-looking camera and an eleven by fourteen-sized envelope. "This right here is one of the best tools we have for our business. If you don't believe me, look at these."
Handing the camera over to one of his friends, Hirutani unwound the string on the back of the envelope and drew from it a stack of well-developed photographs. He put them face-up in front of Jonouchi.
"Have a look."
The blond wirily did as he was told. And when looked upon them, he, even at thirteen, could piece together what kind of 'business' Hirutani had in mind. The images were all incriminating, scandalous, and they were clearly taken in secrecy. He felt guilty looking at them but he sifted through the stack anyways. The last one set every one of his nerves on edge.
A girl with fine red hair and hazel eyes seemed to be laughing at something that had caught her attention. Like the others, she was oblivious to the camera.
The bell rang.
-End-