2


That Wednesday, when their teacher announced a partner project worth 45% of their grade – teams of two to share a debate to the close on an assigned hot topic – Sanji immediately made sure he was partnered with Law. To further torment him for embarrassing him, and because arguing with his brothers was a daily thing. Niji chose to partner with the girl in front of him, grinning in anticipation as she paled with horror, and Yonji complained noisily as the others in their class quickly partnered with each other to avoid being teamed with him. It was only to the misfortune of Zoro Roronoa, who had been napping briefly in the second row that he found himself partnered with Yonji for this project.

As the last few minutes of the class was spent giving contact information and choosing of topics, Sanji kicked Law's chair and told him, "Give me your phone so I can tell you what to write. This is an easy 'A', I don't want you fucking it up."

Seeing that the teacher wasn't giving them any choice in the matter, Law didn't answer him. He instead slunk lower in his chair and ignored Sanji's repeated kicks on his chair to get him to at least respond to him.

"You're not messing this up for me, asshole," Sanji said, using his pen to jab his arm with, leaving black ink on the material of his sweater. "We're going to talk about immigration, and you're going to do your part. I'll argue for, you argue against. That should be good for you. That way, I can be the good guy, and you can be the bad guy, huh?"

Snickering, Sanji wrote down the assignment, then complained nosily as the assignment was announced to be due in a week. He gave Law's chair one last kick, and was up and out before Niji could finish threatening his partner for her side of the assignment to shared with him only before seven pm, and accompanied with nudes.

Later that day, on his way to his STEM class, Sanji spotted Law sitting in the library, flipping through some books, notebook open. He veered off his path and headed inside, shifting his messenger bag from one shoulder to the other before removing it completely and tossing it onto top of Law's book, startling him.

"Is that the assignment for class?" Sanji asked haughtily. "Give me your phone number, so you can send me updates on whatever shit you have."

Law frowned up at him, and shoved Sanji's bag to the floor, closing his notebook, rising up from his chair. "Don't have one," he muttered in passing, Sanji looking after him with an insulted expression.

"How could you not have a fucking phone? Obama gave one to every one of you bastards," Sanji exclaimed, retrieving his bag, but noticing that Law had left behind the books he'd been flipping through. He looked them over just to make sure they pertained to their assignment, but it was only young adult fiction; sci-fi topics, dystopian worlds, mental illness topics. He stalked after him. "Then give me your school email!"

"Don't have one."

"We all have one to keep track of our grades, dumbass! I just want to make sure you're doing this. You're not dragging my grade down because you're not keeping up with shit."

But Law was taller than him, and he walked faster, and Sanji had to get to his STEM class. He figured he'd bug him later, and changed direction, kicking aside a boy with a couple of sandwiches in hand, the boy slamming off a wall before he caught himself.

"You're such a jerk, Vinsmoke!" Sanji heard shouted after him, and he threw a smirk over his shoulder as he saw that the boy had dropped both sandwiches onto the floor, looking pissed.

"Fuck off, shitty Monkey!" he replied before rounding a corner, checking his phone for messages before old man Crocodile caught him on it, the Economics teacher monitoring the hallway with a grumpy expression.

After school, as Yonji wrapped up wrestling practice and Niji with his swim team, Sanji posted out near the front to watch for Law. There was something about rendering the other teen into a meek-filled mess that made him feel better; he hadn't picked on anyone in months. Usually, when the Vinsmokes chose a victim to torment, they made bets with each other on just how far they could push a kid's buttons until either warned off by school officials or they found someone else to reduce to a withering mess. It wasn't as if they were threatened by retaliation or catching trouble because of it; all of them were good hand to hand fighters, and their dad often pulled them off the hook in time, so none of them were bothered by consequences. It was for the thrill of it; for the power and control, for the fun of it.

Having their peers and older teachers fear them made a dull day interesting.

He caught sight of Law leaving the campus with that black hoodie he wore the first week, hastily making his way down the sidewalk from the school with a large group of kids. The area was heavy with foot traffic and teenage drivers in older vehicles, and Sanji wasn't going to break a sweat chasing after him. So he put his resolve away for the next day, catching sight of Ichiji reading underneath some trees near the parking lot. He wandered over to his older brother, setting his bag down on the table with a grumble.

"How was school?" Ichiji asked him, not looking up from his book.

"Dull. We have a stupid assignment in first period, and I'm paired with the weird kid. Niji's trying to scam nudies from Koala, and Yonji's with that Roronoa kid."

Ichiji sighed with impatience, trning a page. "Sounds interesting."

"It's a debate project. One argues for, one against," Sanji commented, lighting up a cigarette and exhaling around it.

"Isn't that Koala seeing that Sabo kid?"

"I don't know, I don't care."

"Niji shouldn't be starting fights with people he can't take on. It'll be embarrassing seeing him get his ass kicked by that kid if he continues to terrorize that girl. Those D boys are a huge nuisance. You guys are in on this by yourselves."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"And that Roronoa kid has a short temper, too. You'll have to remind Yonji of that. He's not going to be able to participate in wrestling this season if he gets into another fight. Tell him to take it out on his wrestling buddies."

"Got it."

"Don't torture this kid too bad, either. Working in the front office allowed me access to his student file. He's already on a thin thread, and there are now laws in effect to charge the bully if he happens to do something tremendously stupid. That won't look good on your college applications," Ichiji added, turning another page.

Sanji scowled. "What's his problem, then?"

"His file says he's been in and out of foster care with a short stint in juvie, holding him back a year. Currently under the guardianship of a family member; already had a teacher-parent conference regarding tardiness and refusal to participate in classroom activities, and this is only his second week. His guardian refuses any IEP classes to help with that dreadful speech impediment of his, having stated that he's 'fine'. I'm suspecting once he hits his eighteenth birthday in October, he's taking off as a legal adult. That's only a couple months away."

"So, what, I have to take it easy on this kid?"

"I'm just saying, because he's already a 'special case', when something happens, you'll be the one to blame," Ichiji stated, looking at him from over his book. "Which will piss me off for being associated with you, and even dad will have a hard time smoothing this one over when it reaches the media."

Sanji scowled. He finished his cigarette with a drawn out sigh, flicking the butt towards the parking lot. "Whatever," he mumbled, feeling let down.

"You need to be aware of these things," Ichiji warned him. "You're on the line with dad's patience, you know. You don't participate in sports, you don't do anything special. You really have nothing special about you to make dad proud. So getting good grades and continuing to focus getting into the college he wants is your only value at this time. You fuck up with this kid, you fuck up with us. Understand?"

"Yes," Sanji muttered bitterly. "You don't have to fucking remind me every goddamn chance you get."

"Just in case you don't happen to listen, I'll repeat it until you get it through your thick head. I'm not saying you should kiss that kid's ass, but you had better watch your behavior and make sure it doesn't make him do anything stupid. Already, you have the attention of others as causing shit with him, so be aware of that."

Sanji rolled his eyes, picking at his slacks. Being reprimanded by Ichiji always left him feeling smaller than he was, and being reminded of his worth left him feeling even worse. He was aware of their father's frustration with him, but the things Sanji was fond of doing wasn't the things Judge wanted him to do. Sanji had always dreamed of going to culinary school, but Judge thought he was better suited towards a career in economics, to follow after his brothers, all of whom were enthusiastic of going into the fields Judge had selected for them. He wasn't very sporty like they were, preferring to watch cooking shows and fiddling around in the kitchen, but Judge didn't think too much of that.

"It's too womanly," Judge had complained, coming home early from a business trip and catching Sanji in the middle of baking a large cake for his brothers to enjoy; all of whom slipped away to avoid being judged. "Look at your brothers, virile and dominate in their sports of choice, and here you are, trying to take the place of your mother and sister."

"Someone has to," Sanji had muttered.

The divorce three years ago had taken the boys away from Sola, and she and Reiju had moved out of state just stay out of Judge's harassing reach. The boys visited them during school breaks, but if Sanji had a choice, he would've went with his mother and sister. The anger he felt in the unfairness of the divorce and the loss of his mother and sister was kept only by him; speaking of it would only invite mockery from the others.

By Friday, Sanji was still in a foul mood over Ichiji's warning, and when the class was encouraged to get into their pairs to work on their project, Sanji was stubbornly silent. Everyone had shifted their desks around to face each other, but Law hadn't bothered to move his, so Sanji kicked the kid out of the desk in front of his and turned it around to face Law's. He worked on his side of the debate while Law frowned down at his notebook, not bothering to open it to start.

After a half hour, Sanji looked at him with a glare, hearing Yonji's obnoxious laughter from somewhere near the front of the class. Since Ichiji had chastised Niji as well, Niji himself was scowling in his seat, writing furiously while Koala worked on hers with a downcast face.

"Show me what you have, so far," Sanji demanded, twisting his paper around so that Law could read his. When Law didn't move, Sanji snatched his notebook and opened it – there were a few perforations clinging to the spiral wiring, but nothing else. He held it up with exasperation. "Are you even working on it? We have a fucking week to get this done! I already told you, if you fuck up my grade, I'm going to be pissed!"

Sanji dropped it onto the floor and kicked it back to him, snatching his paper from Law's desk and exhaling heavily. One of the students sitting nearby cautiously picked up Law's notebook and gave it back with a sheepish cringe, but Law didn't react. He was slouched low in his chair with his longer legs to the side, arms crossed stubbornly.

Sanji glared at him, rapidly tapping his pen against his desktop. Now that he was really looking at him, the kid didn't look that much like a kid, at all. He already had the exhausted look of an older man, complete with intense frown lines, dark eyebags, and facial hair. He wore two hoop earrings in each ear, the jewelry dainty, faded gold; hugging tightly onto delicate lobes. That bruise from last week had faded, leaving it a vaguely yellow splotch, but he sported a band-aid on his neck – Sanji presumed it was from shaving. Wearing the uniform sweater against the school's ferocious air conditioning system, it swam over his thin frame, sleeves long enough to pull over the tops of his hands. He had such dainty, feminine looking hands; with long, thin fingers, slightly long nails, a larger band-aid visible on his palm.

It gave weight to Niji's thought that he was from a family of drag-queens – maybe it was a hobby, or something.

But seeing that he just didn't care about the assignment enraged Sanji. He needed this grade to have a rank acceptable of Judge's expectations, and he wasn't going to let this shithead ruin it for him.

"I'll just do it my fuckin' self," he snapped at him, gathering his things to him. "You might not care about your fucking future, but I care about mine. I need this grade. Fuck off. Fuck you."

Sanji then abandoned his borrowed desk and returned to his, kicking Law's chair as anger swarmed his thoughts. He went back to work on his paper, finishing his notes with tense writing, then starting work on an argument against his topic. Law just continued to sit there, and as seconds ticked by, Sanji's stress continued to rise.

By the time the bell rang, he was red-faced and furious, and he stuffed all of his things into his bag and stomped off as everyone was moving their desks back into place, ignoring Niji's call behind him. Sanji stomped down the hall, shoving hapless kids out of his way until he made it outside to inhale deeply. As his heart rate returned to normal, he realized how stupid it was to ignite so furiously for something he could just fix with the teacher at the end of the grading period – Sanji was counting on Ichiji to be correct with Law leaving the school as soon as he turned eighteen. Kids did it all the time – if Sanji just had Judge talk to the teacher regarding this large percentage, then his grades would be fine.

He assured himself of this and exhaled slowly once again, putting himself back together. Then he returned to the halls with his usual indifferent expression and found Yonji yelling at Zoro near the lockers, the green-haired kid yelling back, their peers watching with interest. Sanji grabbed his younger brother and yanked him along with him, much to the disappointment of those waiting for a fight.

"You won't get to wrestle at this rate, idiot," Sanji snapped at Yonji, who put himself together with a huff. "Then you'll waste all that time cutting weight for nothing."

"I am living a little more on edge," Yonji agreed with a heavy sigh of his own. "This shit is tough, man. I'm snappier than usual."

"Take it out on your teammates, dumbass, not on these guys."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I was thinking of moving up to a higher weight class."

"At this rate, you might as well," Sanji commented, looking up at his brother with a disgusted frown. "Fuck you for being so tall."

"What? I can't hear you from all the way down there," Yonji snickered, waving at Niji as Niji slammed his locker closed.

"You two done throwing your bitch fits?" Niji asked. "So embarrassing to see my two wombmates fighting with their partners in class."

"I see what you did there!"

"Fuck, I'm clever!"

The following Monday, they were allowed to work on their topics once more, but Sanji didn't bother with his partner. He'd already finished Law's side of the debate and was instead working on his Trig packet for tomorrow's class, tapping away on his calculator to get the answers he needed. He absolutely did not expect Law to turn in his seat and pass over a sheet of notebook paper with neat print, detailing his side of the debate.

Sanji glared at him, then at the paper, looking it over. He was surprised to find that it was a pretty acceptable argument against his, which briefly triggered an expression of disgust on his face. He looked at Law to say something, but the kid had turned back around in his chair and slouched low to avoid saying anything. Sanji opened his mouth to share his thoughts when his eyes touched on Law's left ear, seeing it covered with a white bandage that covered the lobe. It was unusual to see it when he'd just seen it fine last week; but he remembered that small show at the restaurant a couple of weeks ago, and he wondered if that was a possibility.

Previous train of thought wrecking at the station, Sanji realized he had nothing to say. But he took that piece of paper and tucked it into his notebook to look over for later, thinking he would have to change his paper to stand up to the standard just now set in front of him.