Then Pewish
Of course, if the smart and brave ex-Oxbrdge students were to return to their illustrious school, somehow the Ofsted inspectors would have to be appeased.
Shanks looked up towards the skyline. It was a few hours before the students would eventually board the school bus and return to university.
The man had been avoiding his life calling, his vocation. It had been a long time since he had looked at the stars, towards the sky. Yuki had scarred him for a long time. But for some reason he had the urge to look towards the pastel-blue sky; he couldn’t help himself.
Zoro: a murderer; Hikaru and Kauru: now guilty of gross bodily harm; Tamaki: turned into a weapon. Jeez, what had the student body become, how far had they fallen...what had Knottingham done to them???
Shanks should have looked at the sky sooner. He should have located Kakashi weeks ago, pulled him out of his erotic novels, and forced him to use his sharigan eye to see this future. Shanks had made himself responsible for these young minds by signing up to be their professor, and for what! To turn around, to neglect them, to leave them when they needed him the most??? No, he would not stand by this! He simply could not!
As an after thought, he wondered where his young nephew (kid Luffy) had disappeared to but had looked at the sky enough for one day and assumed the boy was resurrecting more dead people. They’d sent him to the basement to bring back Mr Tesla.
Shanks spawned into the headmasters office. Fukazawa was strewn over his Armani futon, robes in disarray, hair shimmering over the arm rest. His nails had been bitten to a stub. The headmaster had clearly been struggling with the loss of his school, and the inaction had taken its toll on him. His pallor was pasty and greying, his lips were dry and chapped. The only thing left intact was his beautiful, silky locks. The struggle for his university had aged Fukazawa in a way he did not consider possible.
“Mr President,” Shanks said, “You must negotiate for the Ofsted inspectors to meet us again.”
Fukazawa’s bleary gaze fell on Shanks before he looked away.
“DO YOU HEAR ME, MR PRESIDENT???”
Usually the Mr President sequence would boost Fukazawa into action, but clearly this problem was one too large for Obama to solve. Who had more authority in the UK aside for the President?? Who would be strong enough to get Fukazawa up???
Pokkle - no, not that disgraced ex-Oxbridge student. He was dead, anyway… ;)
One kick man, perhaps??? One Kick Man would definitely have the strength to rouse Fukazawa from his sad boi state, he would end sad boi hour! The mere presence of such a strong human… just one glimpse of that glorious bum bouncing with each kick would surely put a smile on even the straightest man's face.
But where was One Kick Man, where could they find him, where would he go? Alas, if only Shanks had kept Kyoka back, he KNEW One Kick man had a penchant for watching underage girls sleep! Dammit, dammit, dammit. Were there even any other girls at the university beside her? There was Sakura, but not even One Kick Man would want to watch her sleep. Her forehead was too grotesquely large. Besides, she had gone to Knottingham too.
Shanks paced Fukazawa’s office. What was the one thing that made Fukazawa overjoyed, if not the President of the entire United Kingdom Mr Obama??
There was a knock on the door, it swung open to reveal a boi whose eyes were squeezed shut and whose cap was holding back locks of unruly hair. “You called, Professor?” Ranpo said with a smirk, popping a smartie between his succulent lips. The boi had lost his glasses long ago and now relentlessly used his brain, which was of course dangerous. So dangerous, in fact, that Ranpo was only allowed to use it in dire situations. Before his brain had been put into lockdown there was a hugggeee shortage of cases for the police left to solve and they did not appreciate being put out of work. The shortages were of course a huge problem as some police officers, mostly the higher-ups, would hoard cases for themselves so they would have a job. The disparity between the rich and poor officers did not bode well for the class divisions.
Alas, the only option was to ban Ranpo from ever using his brain unless the situation was exceedingly dire, and of course this was a situation that required his huge mass of brain to solve. Who else would be able to get Fukazawa off his Armani futon?? The task was IMPOSSIBLE, not even OBAMA could do it!
Upon seeing his sun, the one light in his life, Fukazawa felt a warmth spread through his sole. It was more powerful than Mr Obama himself. To see his son smile and to provide the very best for him was his one and only duty left in life. He had to bring back the school, if only for his sake. If he couldn't protect his son what kind of a father would he be? After all, he was one HELL of a father.
“Call the inspectors now. I have something to say to them,” Fukazawa’s voice was steady and clear. If it wasn’t for his unironed robes or how pale his skin was, one could say he had been having at least one whole meal a day. Losing his university, his legacy, would certainly break the man.
“Hewwo” Kaname answered. “My love? Are you there?”
Fukazawa’s personal office phone was the one that Victor had been using to call Kaname for phone sex. Fukazawa never noticed, even though Victor never cleaned up after. He thought the sticky substance of his desk was from that time Ranpo spilled his fizzy drinks.
“This is the President.”
“Of the United Kingdom?” Kaname gasped. Well that was okay, he would be okay with sexting the president of the United Kingdom.
“Yes that's right. Come to the Oxbridge office. I have something to share with you and your coworker.”
This sounded very sexi to the man on the receiving end of the phone - after all what kind of monk would he be if he couldn’t spend hours pleasuring the President of the great empire, United Kingdom? He salivated at the thought.
Hours later, Kaname pulled up in his limo. The sun was low in a late-afternoon warmth. The camera crew for his tv show (Keeping up with Kaname) followed, elbowing past Fuhrer Bradley. They had been told that they were to meet the president of the United Kingdom, Mr President Obama, and were very excited.
Kakashi was visible from the window of the principal’s office, his sharingan eye swirling. He yawned and put down his manuscript for his latest erotica novel. They were always more fun to read when the characters and their actions were more...tangible.
His power was very helpful at times. He looked out the window and squinted.
This would be a great way for him to promote his erotica novella series to a wide public - and for free, no less!
The film crew had stopped on the Oxbridge grounds near the fountains where Nanami’s corpse lay. She was more skeletal than flesh by that point, and it was hard to determine her identity from whatever was left of her.
“Something to keep them busy,” Fukazawa took a sip of poorly-concealed sake from a glass tumbler, “while the big bois talk.”
Kaname gulped. Fuhrer Bradley stood behind him. They had hardly gotten through the door before the intimidating aura of those in the room halted them.
Every single muscle in Kaname’s body had seized. He could hear his pulse in his skull; the silken material of his shirt was shifting under the impact of his crazy heartbeat. The fear lined his oesophagus, sweltered in his stomach. His palms sweeted. Before him stood seven thicc men and one woman, all equal parts sexi and thicc. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He wanted to piss his pants. But he was wearing cashmere Gucci and it was one of only two in the world (only the best for Mr President, who he had been manipulated (yes, MANIPULATED!) into believing he was meeting).
Even Fuhrer Bradley was struggling to keep his cool. His knees were weak, palms sweety. He reached for his mustache but alas, it had shed off his face out of pure fear. Tomoe watched it run under Fukazawa’s desk. The Fuhrer had come to propose some new ideas for Ofsted to Mr President of the United Kingdom, and the binder was heavy between his thumb and forefinger. He tried to take breaths to relax himself but his whole body remained… stiff ;)
They had not anticipated anyone bar the Mr President, it would only make sense for him to take office in the prestigious university Oxbridge university. Kaname had been working for a long time on his hit TV show Keeping up with Kaname, and had been expecting to receive a presidential award imminently. And to receive it in the halls of the prestigious university oxbridge university??
So yes the Ofsted boyos had not anticipated anyone bar the President and his guard to be in the prestigious university, Oxbridge University, but were instead met with the faces of the universally-acclaimed professors (even the aliens had tried to enlist them, but the tutors had stayed for the Oxbridge brothels: from their own market research they knew they were the BEST brothels in all the lands). Tomoe, the cat-man; Hawkeye, the famous swordsperson; Shanks, Emperor of the Sea who was also a certified mental case; the principal Fukazawa, who had so much money that he set up his own bank and was the only one who had an account in it; Kakashi, who had made his money through pornography...and some other professors.
It took Kaname a long time to recognise his boyo flanking Kakashi. His hair was silver and shiny, and he was wearing...the OTHER Gucci cashmere, the other from the two created in the whole wide world????
“V-V-Victor??” Kaname gasped. It couldn’t be him, absolutely not, this boi didn't look like he enjoyed being choked whatsoever!!! This was like the time when Kaname tried to watch Kakashi’s porno film One Piece of Ass and he didn’t realise the ENTIRE thing was about sexi pirates...JEEZ.
Victor didn’t reply to the stuttering monk, crossing his arms over his chest (biceps chunky) and standing by his school and his coworkers (Soma was napping...how Victor knew that was only his secret to tell...WINKY face…)
“Who are these men, where is the President?” the Fuhrer drawled. He was trying to keep his cool but there was no mistaking the sweety sheen lining his face and brow. Particularly since the cloth under his underarms had darkened with damp sweet. He was, of course, looking at the new Oxbridge tutors - the world-renowned ones, the ones who ABSOLUTELY could not be affiliated with mere mortals - with lowly UNIVERSITY PROFESSORS…
“My name is Mustang,” the man, Mustang, from FMA, (yes THAT man) nodded at the Fuhrer.
No further explanation was needed.
“I’m Hawkeye,” her voice was tepid and monotonous, a glare to her gaze that Kaname found impossible to look away from. She was wearing a matching uniform to Mustang from FMA, though everyone knew who she was already (a war hero, jeez, and super uber strong).
“And I am Ayato.”
Kaname couldn’t hold back his gasp. The terrorist - ‘freedom fighter’ - Ayato??? With the nickname ‘The Tokyo Ghoul’???? There were wanted posters around for him throughout Panem! How did he escape?? Kaname tried to take a step back but fell into Fuhrer Bradley and jumped. He was only holding his urine in by a slither of bodily control by that point. All of these strong, thicc men and women - Kaname couldn’t take it!!!!
“Retract your statement that says Fukazawa is unfit as headmaster and reinstate the prestigious university, Oxbridge University back into your league tables,” Shanks said calmly, his hand at the hilt of his sword, the power of his Haki slowly rising.
The Fuhrer gulped. “Of course, sirs. Sorry for the confusion!! There was clearly a mistake, I see no reason for the university to be closed! A body???” the Fuhrer scribbled something out from a sheet from his briefcase, which he always carried around lest he be called for an emergency investigation. His movements were comically wide and frantic. “There was never a body viewed on the prestigious grounds of oxbridge university!!! I apologise wholeheartedly for this mistake, please forgive me! Ofsted are willing to reimburse you for this mistake, what would make this up to you???” He stared at Fukazawa, his eye practically begging for Fukazawa to say something so he had an out.
“Nothing...for now,” Fukazawa drawled. “However there will be a time when we call upon you for a favour...and you will cum.”
The Fuhrer was weak at the knees.
“P-P-Pwease sirs,” Kaname shivered in fear, “Pwease - allow me to have a position in this prestigious university oxbridge university!”
“Eh, sure,” Fukazawa said. “Choking is banned. But you appear to be taller than a toddler, so you’re in.
“But what will he teach? Does he even have a degree?” the Fuhrer asked, privately excited at the prospect of losing his partner. Perhaps they would put him to work in the oxbridge brothels, needless to say he had the experience for such a role.
“Well Fuhrer, we won't let him teach of course, we can't trust him around children, but that makes him a perfect fit for priest in the old chapel (the shed out in the woods). We all know that priests like young boys so we’ll try to keep an eye on him and make sure Luffy stays away of course.”
“But I'm not a priest, I'm a monk!” Kaname objected
“I don't care,” Fukuzawa replied indifferently.
“Anything for you sir,” Kaname gasped, throwing his prayer beads over his shoulder.
“We are currently waiting for the avatar to return, he has been frozen in ice with his bison for ages. I’m sure he would appreciate having a fellow monk to keep him company. Legend has it that the Avatar has the power to unite the four top universities in harmony and save the world.”
Kaname wasn’t sure when it would be appropriate to announce that HE was the avatar, but he was too busy thinking guuci gucci gucci to say anything.
-
Hawkeye walked into the unisex bathroom where he encountered Hawkeye.
Hawkeye looked into Hawkeye’s eyes and nodded in acknowledgement.
Hawkeye nodded back at Hawkeye, smiling a little.
Hawkeye and Hawkeye spent their time in companionable silence, not saying one word. They didn’t have to. The tension simmered between them.
Hawkeye had noticed it in Fukazawa’s office - she had noticed the lingering looks the tall swordsman gave her, the way his brow rose and he rolled his lip between his teeth.
When Hawkeye moved to leave, Hawkeye turned back around to look at Hawkeye again, a pause holding them both still as Hawkeye looked into Hawkeye’s eyes.
His eyes skimmed down the length of her body. As always she was wearing tight, form-fitting trousers… and they looked GOOD. Hawkeye had an irresistible womanly figure, and she knew it. Her eyes raked over his 8-pack, those hard, muscular abs, the toned arms and legs, and the... other part that looked good too. She liked what she saw, and so did he.
“Nice to meet you,” said Hawkeye.
“Nice to meet YOU,” said Hawkeye.
They had the sexiest of times...many a time. There in that bathroom, on the bathroom counter, on the floor, against the wall, in every stall, pressed up against the sink and again against the mirrors.
Hawkeye and Hwkeye gasped for breath.
“I learnt that last one in the brothels,” Hawkeye said. “I’m glad I did.”
Hawkeye smirked, satisfied. Finally. After all those years of disappointing lovers, Hawkeye had finally met their match. Themself.