Author's Note:
✘ Woot! Woot! Chapter two is here.
Disclaimer: I do not own Gokusen or any of its characters, names, or settings. This is purely a work of fan appreciation and creativity.
Chapter 2: Comrade... What Comrade!?
The following morning, Mae arrived at school earlier than expected. As she stepped into the classroom, she was mildly surprised to find it completely empty. Her lips curled slightly in a smirk. "What kind of school is this…" she mused silently, then headed to her desk and sat down with the usual indifference etched across her face.
Within a few minutes, students began to trickle in. As they entered, several boys shot Mae hostile glances, clearly unimpressed with the new transfer. Mae, however, paid them no mind. Their looks didn't bother her, not even a little.
"You're sitting at Ogata's desk, you know," Honjo said, strolling over to her with a cocky grin, as if expecting her to jump out of the seat in fear or awe.
Mae didn't even blink. She remained seated, eyes half-lidded in boredom.
"Did he just ignore you?" Kamiya whispered to Honjo, sounding both surprised and amused. "He must be really full of himself."
Ogata entered and moved to the desk to the right of Mae's without a word. He didn't seem to care about the seating situation, at least not at the moment. His mind was preoccupied with more pressing matters—specifically, Kazama. If Ogata wanted to be acknowledged as the leader of Akado, he knew there was only one way: a direct duel with Kazama.
Honjo, not willing to give up, leaned forward and tapped Mae on the shoulder. "Hey, we're talking to you."
Mae lifted her gaze slowly and locked eyes with him. Her expression was flat, her tone drowsy and cutting. "Huh? Did you pay for this desk or something?"
That response made Ogata glance over. The new kid was clearly trouble. He could sense it. But it wasn't worth the effort right now.
"Honjo. Kamiya. Let him be," Ogata ordered without even looking at them.
They backed off at once, understanding Ogata's tone. Mae shifted slightly, leaning back with a scoff and muttered just loud enough, "Whatever…" before resuming her relaxed posture.
Moments later, the door swung open, and Ren Kazama entered with his crew. Confident, cool, and clearly someone used to being watched, he made his way straight to where Ogata stood. The atmosphere in the room instantly changed—more tension, more eyes watching, more silence beneath the noise.
Honjo nudged Yamato subtly, a silent heads-up. Kazama was here.
Ren stopped in front of Yamato's desk, gaze steady and voice firm. "Let's settle this once and for all—who's really the head of Akado?"
Yamato let out a dry chuckle, stretching his neck like he'd been waiting for this. "You want a one-on-one with me?" he asked, his tone daring.
Kazama's reply was sharp. "Yeah."
A grin slid across Yamato's face. "Sounds good to me. Let's do it."
Ren laid down the details. "After school. Shirokin Park."
The air thickened. The six boys exchanged deadly glares, no one backing down. Mae, quietly watching from her seat, had been listening the entire time. Something about this exchange pulled at her attention.
In her previous school, status was everything—wealth, family name, looks. That's what set your rank. But here, at Akado, none of that mattered. It was about strength. Power. Guts. Mae tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering behind her dark eyes. Interesting…
Before the tension could escalate further, the classroom door banged open.
"Good morning, everyone! Take your seats!" Yankumi announced with her usual chipper tone.
But none of the six boys moved. They remained locked in a silent standoff.
Yankumi narrowed her eyes and stomped toward them. "Can't you hear me? I said—take your seats!"
Just then, the door opened again, and Sawatari stepped in with a grave expression.
"Kazama," he said, "come with me. The police are here. They want to speak with you."
A hush fell over the room. Kazama blinked, caught off guard, but didn't protest. He followed Sawatari out without a word.
Yankumi followed closely, her voice rising in concern. "Wait—what's going on? What police?!"
The trio—Kazama, Yankumi, and Sawatari—headed to the director's office, where the police were waiting. According to the officers, Kazama was suspected of being involved in a recent wave of smuggling cases.
Kazama, furious at the accusation, demanded evidence. None was provided. Without warning, he stormed out of the office, rage simmering in his eyes, leaving behind more questions than answers.
Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was deceptively normal. Students chatted casually, as if nothing had happened. The door swung open, and Kazama stormed in, fury written all over his face. Yankumi followed close behind, clearly worried. Without a word, Kazama snatched up his bag.
"Kazama, don't go! I'll speak with the Director—I promise!" Yankumi called after him.
But he didn't stop. He didn't even look back. "I don't believe you," he said sharply before rushing out.
Still, no one in the room reacted. No one moved. It was as if Kazama's suspension hadn't just shaken the ground beneath them. Yankumi turned to the class, her voice trembling with disappointment.
"A comrade who did nothing wrong was just suspended! How can you all act like this?"
Mae turned toward her, curious. A teacher truly caring for a student? That was rare in this place—almost strange. Before she could say anything, Yamato spoke up, his tone cold.
"Comrade? What comrade? We're just in the same class. That's all."
The others nodded in agreement, Mae listening quietly as their silence turned into consensus. Their message was clear—teachers were powerless, and students were on their own.
Then Ogata chimed in, arms crossed. "I saw Ren near the Shirokin Tunnel that night."
Yankumi's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"
Ogata gave a brief nod. "Yeah," he replied, grabbing his bag before leaving the room without another word.
Mae watched him go, a bitter realization settling in her chest. This school wasn't all that different from hers. No one truly trusted one another. When things got hard, everyone looked away. In the end, no one really wanted to help anyone at all.
The following days passed quickly. Yankumi remained tirelessly committed to finding the true culprit. She even enlisted the help of Class 3D, distributing a strange flyer that offered a crude description of the suspect. Mae glanced at the paper with mild curiosity before placing it on her desk, watching as most of her classmates immediately tossed it aside. Only Ogata and Ren's usual crew seemed to keep theirs.
Weirdos, Mae thought, narrowing her eyes as she caught Yankumi bowing deeply and earnestly in front of them—a teacher, asking students for help. It made her blink twice. Such behavior didn't make any sense. Like the others, she chose to ignore her.
Yet Mae couldn't help but notice Yankumi's persistence around the city. She spotted the teacher several times, wandering the streets, stopping strangers, asking for leads. Oddly enough, Ogata was often nearby, observing her. Whether intentionally or not, he too had taken to the streets, following hints, searching for truth.
One afternoon, Mae happened to be walking past the police station when she saw Kazama being escorted inside. Word spread quickly—someone had reported that Kazama had been near the Shirokin tunnel the night of the theft, contradicting his alibi. Worse, it was said that a teacher had known and failed to report it. Mae's heart jolted at the thought—a teacher who believed in her student. One who defended him, trusted him.
Maybe not all adults are that awful, she mused, only for the moment to be shattered by a passing remark: Ogata had been the one who tipped off the police. And right on cue, he exited the station, head down, pacing fast.
Mae snorted and shook her head. "Nothing new. One enemy selling out another," she muttered to herself, walking on without much care. But Ogata was behind her, his steps quick and heavy.
"So you're not any different after all?" Mae called out, half-sarcastic, half-curious.
Ogata paused, glancing back. "Huh?"
"You were all set to fight him the other day. Now you're handing him over like that?" The words escaped before Mae could stop herself. Why was she even bothering? She sounded bizarre—foreign to her own ears.
Ogata shot her a sharp, unreadable look and walked off in silence. Something else was clearly gnawing at him.
In truth, he hadn't sold Kazama out. While chatting carelessly with Honjo and Kamiya, a patrolling officer had overheard them. The damage was done. And so, Yamato made up his mind—he'd fix what he could. If he couldn't protect Ren with words, he'd do it with action.
He retraced Yankumi's steps, asking around for the man on the flyer. Only two clues stood out: a skull-shaped necklace and a distinctive tattoo. After hours of questioning and back-alley detours, Ogata finally spotted someone matching the description. He trailed him quietly.
Meanwhile, Mae, with no particular destination in mind, wandered the streets. Home felt emptier than usual, so she took her time, zigzagging through familiar alleys. It was during one of these turns that she collided with a group of strangers.
Normally, she'd have walked past without a word. But this time, she paused, her gaze falling on Ogata—surrounded.
"You're the one behind the recent muggings, aren't you?" Ogata's voice was low, determined.
"What if I am?" one man sneered. Another turned toward Mae. "What are you lookin' at?"
"Is he with you?" one asked, eyeing the school uniform.
"I think so. Same school," another chimed in.
Mae didn't have time to react. Neither did Ogata. The two were shoved into a nearby warehouse.
Ogata shot her a frustrated glance. Stupid or brave, he couldn't tell which.
Mae, glaring back, had her own thoughts. What did I get myself into?
There was no time for further reflection—the thugs lunged at them. Fists flew. Mae dodged and countered as best she could, landing solid blows and showing unexpected strength. But numbers weren't on their side. They were soon overpowered, beaten, dragged to the ground.
For Mae, it wasn't the pain that broke her. It was the blood. The crimson on the floor triggered memories—gruesome, buried deep. The corpses, the bloodstained floors of her childhood home. She began to tremble uncontrollably.
Ogata, bruised and bloodied, stood his ground. "You're going to the police," he growled.
Just then, in the nick of time, Yankumi arrived, a force of nature crashing into the chaos. The thugs were no match for her. Neither Mae nor Ogata remembered much after that. They came beneath a cherry blossom tree, dazed.
Ogata and Yankumi were already talking when Mae stirred. "You believed Kazama," she murmured to him.
"I just paid for what I'd done," Ogata replied, standing up and noting that Mae, too, was trying to rise.
"Can you both make it home?" Yankumi asked, concerned.
They both brushed her off, muttering that they were fine. Yankumi beamed anyway, calling them her precious students.
"Don't make me laugh," Ogata snapped, turning away.
Mae gave a nonchalant wave. "Bye," she said, heading off in the opposite direction.
Yet, as fate would have it, they shared the same road back. Ogata kept stealing glances at her face.
"You're not as fearless as I thought," he said suddenly, recalling her earlier shivering.
"Eh?" Mae blinked, caught off guard. "None of your business."
"I didn't say it was," Ogata replied, wiping blood from his lip.
Mae averted her eyes. The blood still churned her stomach.
"It's the blood, isn't it?"
"I said it's none of your business!" she snapped and quickly crossed the street, taking another route.
She returned, as she did every night, to an empty house. Though lonely, she had made peace with it. After showering—checking that her chest binding was still in place after the earlier brawl—she ate instant ramen and curled into bed. But sleep eluded her. The blood, the past, her family—all haunted her still.
Ogata, in contrast, came home to noise. His father shouting, blaming his mother, blaming him—always him. Like clockwork, Yamato retreated to his room, silently bearing the burden of being the "ill omen" of the family. He never spoke about it. To speak would mean breaking the tough shell.
The next morning, Mae arrived at school to find Yamato and Ren talking at the entrance. Ren was thanking him—gratefully, sincerely. Kazama's name had been cleared. He was coming back to school, thanks to Yankumi's efforts, and Yamato's as well.
Then Ogata pointed. "You should thank him, too. He helped."
Ren turned to Mae. "Thanks."
Mae nodded with her usual cool indifference and walked past them. But something had shifted. Maybe Yankumi wasn't just a lunatic in a tracksuit. Maybe Class 3D wasn't as hopeless as it seemed. Still, for now, Ren and Ogata only saw Mae as another boy in uniform. And Mae wasn't quite ready to correct them.
((Coming up chapter 3))