THE TRAIL WE BLAZE
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Sakigake! Otokojoku or it's characters. I only own this little story as it is.
Summary : Not Stonewall High. Harry had been enrolled in a school for the toughest, biggest, baddest fucking bastards around - which prides itself on the nickname of being an Hell on Earth. Literally.
Shout Out: Okay. I stumbled onto Sakigake! Otokojoku by chance last year and it took me in with its exaggerated manliness, martial arts and overall storyline clichés. So two days ago, I was thinking about possible new crossover, and poking fun at it, and Sakigake! Otokojuku jumped out. Besides, the characters are so 'manly' I couldn't resist poking at them a little. And I admit that idea of having Harry representing Otokojoku just tickled me pink in general.
Dictionary: For better understaning of phrases used in the story, there's a small dictionary. If there are mistakes, please tell me so I can correct them. Thank you and enjoy!
C'est impossible! - This is impossible! (French)
Vraiment? – Really? (French)
Affaire nationale – National-wide affair (French)
Affaire international – International-wide affair (French)
Non – No (French)
ORAA! – a scream, something like YEAH! (Japanese)
OSSU! – YES! (Japanese)
Gaijin – Stranger /Strangers, depends on context– a degrading calling for foreigners (Japanese)
Chiisai Ryu – Little dragon (Japanese)
Tenchou Gourin Daibukai – A tournament to death, organized every four years by Toudou Hyoue – the winner was hailed as one of the strongest, if not the strongest in the world. Otokujoku sixteen warriors entered the tournament with the intention of getting revenge on Toudou Hyoue for his betrayal of his comrades on Sama Island. For more information, look up chapter number 95 in volume number 11.
Warnings: AU-verse, totally, in both of the storylines. Overdose of maleness and Edajima Heihachi. Pairing is not resolute yet, but there are hints of Himori Hiroto (Harry Potter)/Hien, and Himori Hiroto/Ijuuin Kyosuke. Oh, and some very overprotective and scary big brothers.
Changing legend into fact
We shall ride into history
Turn myth into truth
We shall surely gaze
On the sweet unfolding
Of an antique mystery
All will be revealed
On the trail we blaze
('The Trail we Blaze', by Elton John)
"And with this, the selection of the Triwizard Champions is concluded –" Dumbledore said genially, only to be interrupted by the Goblet being lit once more, and spitting out another scrap of paper.
Catching it, the old wizard blinked.
"The fourth Champion is… Harry Potter?"
And the Hall exploded with noise.
The Champions were gathered together, waiting for instructions. Diggory was blushing at Fleur Delacour, who was preening her hair, Krum was being his usual broody self and there was silence. Boththe Beauxbaton headmistress and the Durmstrang headmaster discussed something in murmuring voices, Ludo Bagman was fidgeting in the corner, while Barty Crouch Senior was writing something on a piece of paper.
The door opened and all the people watched as the serious looking Dumbledore came in, followed by Snape and McGonagall.
"Gentlemen, we have a problem."
"Waz it iz, Dumbly-door?" Madame Maxine sniffed haughtily. "We would like to return to our carriage az zoon az pozzible –"
"There was a fourth champion."
An ice cold silence erupted in the room.
"What?" Crouch asked first, his sharp profiled face likening on a vulture in the dim light of the room. "Are you sure, Dumbledore?"
The old wizard nodded wearily. "Yes. It was after we sent Mr. Diggory to the room. The Goblet was dark and all, but then, it ignited with a blue light and spit out another paper."
"This is a catastrophe!" Ludo wailed, dark eyes wide as he tugged on his collar. "It's-"
"Be silent!" Moody barked at the theatrical man, fake eye swirling madly. "Dumbledore, tell them just who was chosen as a champion!" His gruff voice brooked no argument.
White eyebrows scrunched in pained regret as the centenarian wizard's shoulders sagged helplessly.
"It was for Mr. Harry Potter."
"What!"
"C'est impossible!"
"Dumbledore, he's a squib!"
Snape's incredulous voice silenced the foreigners.
"What do you mean, 'e 'z a squib?" Madame Maxine roundedsharply on the hook-nosed wizard, her dark eyes flashing as her impressive bosom heaved with fury.
"Exactly as he said, Madam." Dumbledore interrupted politely. "Harry Potter is not attending Hogwarts, simply because he doesn't have enough magic to do so."
"Vraiment?" Fleur breathed out, her blue eyes wide with fascinated horror. "But 'ow did 'e defeat the….You-Know-Oo then?" Krum nodded at her question, also interested in the answer.
"To tell the truth, I don't know." Dumbledore revealed, making Snape scowl and Moody grumble and thump his artificial leg on the floor. "Nobody knows just what happened that night, and the only person who could tell us just what happened that night doesn't remember it. The fact is, somebody threw his name in the goblet, and thus obliged young Harry to compete in the Tournament."
"Do we at least know where the brat is now?" Moody gruffed out, snorting a breath as his eye scanned the room's occupants.
"He was left with his relatives, the Dursleys." McGonagall replied, her lips thinned into a line of disapproval, her eyes narrowing as she glareddisapprovingly at the old headmaster. "Worst kind of people, they are."
"But Harry is safe with them," Dumbledore replied mildly, making her emit a kitty growl.
"Still, how did they manage to enter Harry's name in the goblet? You did employ the Age Line faultlessly." McGonagall continued her voice a tad bit less sharp than usual.
"Hah! Easy! " Moody barked out, making the witnesses jump with fright. "The culprit, whoever it was, used a strong Confundus Charm, convincing the Goblet there were four schools instead of three, and then he or she entered Potter as the contestant from the fourth school. Constant Vigilance, I say!"
Madam Maxine glared at the Hogwarts' DADA instructor, before sniffling primly. "Suppose so. Dumblydoor, you realize this will cause an… affaire nationale, no - affaire internationale, non?" She addressed the Hogwarts' Headmaster, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Of course." The old man sighed, seemingly aging a good ten years or so. "For now, let's adjourn the meeting as we should wait for the fourth Champion to arrive."
Meanwhile, in Japan, one school was particularly lively.
"ORAA! CAN'T YOU SHOW MORE FIGHTING SPIRIT, YOU BRATS!" Onihige's loud, growly voice boomed across the field where the first years were doing pushups. However, these pushups weren't your usual version of 'lower your body and push it up again' pushups. No, the men who were doing it were doing the exercise above the boards with sharp nails turned against their bodies and heavy cement blocks on their backs. If they gave up on supporting both their own weight and the weight of their burden, their chests and stomachs would have been skewered on the iron tips of the boards underneath them.
"STRENGTHEN YOUR WEAK SPIRIT! 300 MORE!" The instructor screamed, his brutish old face withan untidy beard fierce in the morning light.
"OSSU!" A chorus of male voices answered them and the tortu – I mean, training, began again.
Nobody dared to complain.
It just wasn't done.
This…was the school for the worst delinquents in Japan, Otokojuku.
The tall bald man was staring at the sunrise, dark eyes thoughtful. Half an hour before, he had received quite an unusual missive from an unusual bird. And the contents of the letter were, to say it mildly…surprising… and troubling.
Had it concerned only him, it would have been be fine – after all, he was Edajima Heihachi, the Peerless, and the Headmaster of Otokojuku; however, the letter was addressed to his ward, Hiroto Himori, and that gave him more than enough reasons to worry.
Hiroto was an orphan. Someone dumped him in front of the Otokojuku – some fat Gaijin bastard – and left him there. Hiroto didn't have any relatives, no one to take care of him, and so he subsequently entered the Otokojuku school when he was only five years old. He had been one of the youngest students to enter and most importantly, survive the Hell on Earth that was Otokojuku private school.
In the years he was there, Hiroto became the unofficial little brother of the elder students and one of the best fighters in the school. Although he had been mocked at first for his scrawny body, Hiroto soon proved he wasn't one to be trifled with. Chiisai Ryu, or Little Dragon, as he was known in the circles of the 'manliest of men', was their biggest treasure, and they would gladly give either limb or life for him if needed be, and Hiroto would've done same for them.
And now, some Gaijin that claimed to be wizards, wanted Hiroto to compete in their Tournament, just because someone was foolish enough to drop a paper with Hiroto's old name on it in some old goblet – never mind the fire. Not that Hiroto went by that name, but still…
Dark eyebrows twitched in annoyance. Edajima would have denied it until he was as dead as a doornail and beyond, but he truly thought of Hiroto as his son and he trusted those Gaijin as much as he had hair on his head – therefore, none.
Even if Hiroto had gone through some of the most dangerous tournaments on the Earth and come out alive – why, just last week, he had returned from Tenchou Gourin Daibukai. Competing in that tournament was nothing to sneeze at, even more so because Hiroto was still a boy and competing against grown-up men most of the time, thus sustaining some heavy injuries he still had to heal from; but true to his stubborn nature, the boy was already up and about, skillfully evading his third year watchers. If he hadn't known better, Edajima would have sworn the boy was trained as a shinobi, yet…
It may have been a case here… nobody knew for sure just how many secrets and tricks their little dragon actually had in his sleeves.
Finally, he spoke to someone.
"Send them in."
Momo hummed cheerfully, enjoying the sunrise and pondering just what would this day bring. He was thankful they had survived the Daibukai –and even more grateful that his little brother was also well.
He had met Hiroto by chance, and he was interested in the young boy –much too young to be enrolled in Otokojuku, which was known for its Spartan methods of training and discipline, yet this little slip of a boy was here and apparently good enough to compete with the third years.
Although he almost did have a heart attack when he had been confronted by the head of the third years, Jaki Daigouin and his right hand, Eikei, in regards to their little dragon. Their message was simple – Harm him in any way, shape or form – and die in the most painful way possible. It was the only time he had been truly afraid of the two men, because the killing intent they emitted was just unreal and even stronger than when he had seen them fight.
It was funny, however, when the two of them had done the same thing to Hien, leaving the master of the senbon needles pale and trembling with terror – not that it stopped him from talking with 'Hito-chan', as they teasingly called Hiroto. It had been even funnier when both of them were dared to wear female clothes and go into public clothed like that - they had been dubbed the 'Pretty Pair' for this, however the instigators suffered the wrath not only of the 'Pretty Pair,' but also Jaki, Eikei, Date because apparently, their little dragon inadvertently attracted an admirer, Ijuuin Kyosuke, much to Hiroto's big brothers' disgruntlement and Momo's amusement. The carnage that day had been legendary.
Ijuuin had backed off, but swore to be back, despite of the rather large killing intent Date and Eikei were aiming at the easygoing man. However, from then on, all of the Otokojuku had to swear that they wouldn't play such mean pranks on Hiroto anymore - despite Hiroto being able to give back as good as he got - but Hien was still a free target in the games. The redhead hadn't been happy and he had gone through a record number of senbon that day to prove his point, before getting out of the 'unmanly' clothes and stealing Hiroto to go get ice cream. Nobody dared to follow them, because Hien had threatened – loudly and clearly– that anyone who spied on them would get a senbon needle through his balls. And seeing that Hien was scarily good with his aim, his speed having improved even more, nobody dared to sacrifice their little baby makers for the sake of the knowledge of just what was going on between them on their little not-date.
But right now, the principal was calling for him, and he idly wondered just what was in store for them this time.
"I am the principal of Otokojuku, Edajima Heihachi."
They listened to the standard greeting of their leader – and it was reassuring to hear it, but this time, the principal's face was somewhat… troubled.
"I called you here because Hiroto had been entered in a Tournament without his approval." The previously lax atmosphere became tense at those words.
The men stiffened, Jaki and Eikei growled threateningly, while Momo narrowed his eyes and Hien quietly snarled in fury.
"How did it happen?" Date asked, his voice soft and cold, absentmindedly fingering the hilt of his spear.
Edajima sighed. "Hiroto's old would-be school is special." He revealed, dark eyes troubled. "Apparently, the stories about wizards and the like are true – they have their own schools, society and so on, but they are hidden from us, normal folk." The mustache twitched sardonically at the wide eyes his students made at hearing the information. "Hiroto – or Harry, as they knew him, was born as a wizard, but when he was one year old, some Dark Lord attacked him, killing his parents. Somehow, Hiroto survived. His survival also left him without his magic and thus useless to them so they gave him to his mother's sister to raise. Long story short, they loathed the thought of even feeding him, leaving him here when he was five years old."
"I'll kill the bastards." Hien was fuming, dark blue eyes blazing with anger, already holding some of his senbon needles, ready to attack.
"Get in line." Jaki ordered the redhead brusquely, with Eikei grunting the affirmative. Hien gave him the evil eye, but subsided.
"They have the Triwizard Tournament here – three schools competing for the Championship, each sending in one representative. Somehow, Hiroto was also chosen, and now he is obliged to compete or forfeit his life."
The atmosphere in the room was now absolutely thunderous. They were no strangers to life-or-death matches, but this was justa cowardly way of forcing someone to compete.
"He is not even completely healed yet." Momo muttered, dark eyes troubled. "And with them having the advantage of magic – "He swallowed, a ball of dread burning in his stomach.
"And that's why I am sending all of you with him." Edajima interrupted him sternly. "He may not be magical anymore, but that just means he needs our support more than ever. Besides," Edajima's half-frown turned into a feral smile "It's a chance to show them just who they're messing with."
The dark faces smirked and eyes shone in bloodthirsty glee. "Mess with the best, die like the rest, innit?" Momo asked lightly, but everyone in this room knew that whoever it was that got his little brother in this mess would have a hard time making it out alive.
"Exactly. I am the Principal of Otokojuku, Edajima Heihachi." Their principal nodded at them regally.
"Dismissed."
The wizards wouldn't know what hit them.
Literally.
The reply came back in the shape of a roll, and when Dumbledore unrolled it, he saw elegantly written kanji.
"Dumbledore-san.
I am the Principal of Otokojuku, Edajima Heihachi. Your letter was an unwelcome surprise, although it did help piece together the history of one of my students.
I will be sending Himori Hiroto to compete in that tournament of yours, along with some of my other students who will be acting as his guards and witnesses of the event. They will make their own lodgings and take care of their food so you don't need to provide for them. Because you wizards are a nosy lot, I warn you now – leave them alone. They have my permission to use force to defend themselves, in any way, shape or form they deem necessary, even killing the perpetrators if need be. Tell the others that, because this is the only warning I will ever issue concerning their behavior. They are honorable men and I would trust their words over yours any day, so don't test my patience any more than you already have.
Signed,
The Principal of Otokojuku, Edajima Heihachi.
Swallowing heavily, Dumbledore flopped into his comfy chair.
This letter was almost radiating the power of Harry's Headmaster, and that Edajima wasn't a man to be trifled with. The words had the weight of someone who had true power at their disposal, and even if Dumbledore had been relieved that Harry was apparently alive and well, he also dreaded the appearance of these Otokojuku students something fierce.
He swallowed heavily as he rolled the letter back into its previous shape.
Maybe it wasn't such a great idea, forcing Harry to compete in the Tournament, after all…