A Coke Of Genius
The Oxbridge boyos left the disgusting university, Sheffield Harem University, disgruntled and concerned. Not a single student had purchased their fine wares of cocaine out of fear and loyalty to this so-called ‘Phantom Troupe’.
Atsushi was particularly upset. He had put in the most effort for this escapade, and it had all been for nought. Not only was it not necessary to smuggle the drugs into the university, but also coming to the university at all had been pointless. Thus there was anger smoldering his eyes, his whole body was stiff and his asshole was gaping.
The students were silent. Not even Tamaki, high on cocaine, uttered a word, the disappointment killing any conversation before it even started.
Suddenly the silence was broken by Kyoya, “where in Pokkle’s hell are we?”
Pokkle sat in hell on his throne, legs spread out languidly before him, Ciel’s tiny suit-shirt unbuttoned in a crop-top over his rippling abs so he’d have increased mobility. He stroked his chin, an evil smirk twisting his lips as he stared down with his handy bedazzled magnifying glass. Where were they? HA! Pokkle knew exactly where they were, at all times...he let his free hand drop and stroked the pads of his fingers over Ciel’s small child-skull that made up his throne, running his thumb over the bridge of the boy’s nose...
The others glanced around wearily at the unfamiliar street. “How should I know? I was following you!” Kunikida barked angrily.
“Don't look at me! I was following Akutagawa, he was walking ahead of me!”
“Tch, typical Akutagawa,” Dazai chided, “always a disappointment. First you suggest we go to Sheffield Harem, and now you get us lost. I can't say I’m surprised.”
Akutagawa growled. “It wasn't me! I didn't suggest we go to that disgusting university, Sheffield Harem University! It was your great student Atsushi!” he looked at the boy in contempt. Atsushi went to open his mouth to defend himself, growing even angrier, but before he could get a word in Akutagawa cut him off, “FURTHERMORE! I wasn't leading! I was following Zoro of cou-” He broke off into a coughing fit, but the others were not sympathetic, and instead groaned in unison.
“So it IS your fault then! You should never follow Zoro! If you're ever lost, the quickest way to get back home is to go in the opposite direction of wherever HE’S going!” Sanji yelled, pointing at the green haired man.
“Say that again, curly-brows, I dare you,” Zoro growled at Sanji, offended by his harsh words. He had been following the path EXACTLY right, as he always did, it wasn’t his fault the straight roads always morphed into mazes somehow.
Sanji brought his face close to Zoro’s and slowly repeated, “If you’re ever lost-”
“Grrr that’s it!” the enraged Zoro brandished his sword and Sanji flexed his leg.
The group began to bicker amongst themselves, Atsushi rushing to defend himself from Akutagawa’s blame, his mentor Dazai supporting him.
Kyoya sighed while he tapped the bridge of his glasses. “Now now,” he chided, drawing everyone’s attention. “There’s no use arguing now. What’s done is done. We're all tired and hungry; today has been a difficult day. Let’s focus on finding the way home first. We can all blame Akutagawa when we get back and properly punish him then.”
The others found themselves nodding at Kyoya’s wise words. He was such a smart guy.
Akutagawa was about to retort when he broke off into another coughing fit which just led the unsympathetic others to glare at him more. Why was he always coughing anyway? Was it contagious? They should quarantine him.
“Let’s go this way,” Chuuya suggested, peering down at google maps on his phone. He pointed a gloved finger at a shadowed alleyway.
“Hmmmm…” Tamaki peered down the entrance. “It looks VERY suspicious. And very dark and scary! Are you sure it’s the right way?” he asked, his hand reaching out instinctively to hold onto the sleeve of Dazai’s jacket, trembling at the thought. Or maybe the shakes were from all that cocaine. That thought had occurred to Tamaki, but then he shrugged it off as he ate another handful of coke.
“It’s the quickest way!” Chuuya retorted.
“Eh, yeah I guess this is okay,” the others said as they nodded. They all began to follow Chuuya down the alleyway, who marched on ahead of them.
The shadows of the alley closed in around them. The noise and bustle of the busy street they were on fell away behind them. Tamaki’s hand had moved down from Dazai’s sleeve to clasp his hand. Dazai squeezed it back reassuringly, but he also felt… uneasy. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching them…
The group had lapsed back into silence, until they heard a voice drift towards them from up ahead.
“Well, well, well. Who do we have here then?” the voice asked. His body was obscured by a particularly dark shadow.
All around, the narrow street was filled with accompanying laughter. It didn't take a genius to realise they had been surrounded.
“Have we been surrounded?” Atsushi gasped.
The others ignored him.
But the shadowed figures laughed again, and then began clicking their fingers together aggressively and rhythmically. Chuuya couldn't help but tap his foot to the catchy beat.
“Show yourself!” Dazai growled, moving forward in front of Tamaki.
The man stepped forward casually into a beam of light.
He had a pale face, framed by shoulder-length dark hair. His eyes were deep pools of ebony, captivating and full of mystery. His face was beautiful and angular, his features carved like that of a Greek god’s. The sunlight flatteringly shone down on his glory, making him look like an ethereal being of myths and legends, Adonis himself, rather than a man. His ears were weighed down by large blue earrings. He wore only a large black coat wrapped around his shoulders, and some tight fitting trousers, showing off his bulging bulge. The chest was exposed, his abs carved as if from marble, his nipples hard and erect, sensitive to the cold winds of the alley.
Kyoya eyed the beautiful man with interest. The businessman inside him was immediately excited at the opportunity to capitalise on this guy’s hotness. He could bring in so much revenue as a new Host - the Dark, seductive, ‘dangerous’ host.
Tamaki grabbed Kyoya’s arm, “Kyoya, Kyoya,” he said- clearly he’d had the same thought. The Host Club had been looking for a ‘bad boy, good lips’ Host - it was a necessary role to fill.
The man smirked and began to speak,“Yo, yo yo! I’m ya boi, Chrollo! And this here is ma main posse! The Phantom Troupe. Hey fellas, why don't you all introduce yourselves to our guests!”
One blonde boy stepped forward, “Whaddup peeps! The boys call me Shalnark! And this here is my homeboy, Nobunaga,” he pointed to one of the undefined shadows. “And that short man there is Feitan! He’s hella fly! Give a wave Feitan!”
The shadow that was presumably Fietan waved, and he mumbled “Aiight?”
Shalnark opened his mouth to continue the introductions but he was quickly interrupted by Kunikida. “ENOUGH! We don't care about who you are. Just move aside and let us pass!”
The rhythmic clicking stopped. The Phantom Troupe growled.
“Excuse me? You come onto OUR turf, and now you're trying to tell us what to do?” Chrollo asked. His voice was calm and sultry, but behind it was unmistakable malice. His eyes glinted aggressively.
“Ah, now wait just a minute. We didn’t know-” Kyoya began.
Chrollo smoothly interrupted. “And even worse, we’ve been informed by a reliable sauce that a group of Oxbridge students were trying to sell some big C to OUR customers at the disgusting university, Sheffield Harem University. These Oxbridge students would be you, ammi right?”
“Reliable sauce?” Dazai questioned.
“Yes. We were told by one hell of a butler,” Feitan spoke up quietly.
Atsushi widened his eyes. Haven't they heard of this man before? Who WAS he?
“Well, now about that…” Kyoya glanced around at his friends for support, but they all avoided his gayze.
Regardless, no excuse would have cut it for the Phantom Troupe. “Talk to the hand!” Chrollo drawled, “no excuse will cut it for us, the Phantom Troupe! There’s nothing you can say to save yourself. It's too late. You've been surrounded. Welcome… welcome to your deaths.”
The shadows began to close in around them, the hands of the Phantom Troupe reaching out for the students.
“Wait! Surely there’s something we can do! We can make this right!”
The hands froze.
“Like what?” Shalnark asked, intrigued.
“Can we interest you boys in some cocaine?” Tamaki asked slowly, holding out a shit covered kinder egg.
“Nah mate, you're alright,” Chrollo replied, turning his head away. “Although…” he began slowly. “There is one thing.”
“What? One Piece?” Sanji asked excitedly.
“No, one THING. You see, we’re well known for our wicked dance moves and off the cuff hella fly rapping. If you challenge us to a rap battle, and you win, we’ll let you go. We win, you die.”
“It’s really as easy as that?” Kyoya asked suspiciously.
“Oh no, my friends. This won't be easy. This will be the hardest moment of your life. I'm already hard. I'm so hard I could cut you like butter,” Chrollo replied, running one hand seductively over his chest, squeezing one his sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He could barely suppress a moan.
“Yes, we can see that,” Atsushi replied, impressed.
“Have we got a deal?” Shalnark asked excitedly.
The students hesitated, but then Kunikida stepped forward. “Yeah,” he said seriously, face grim, hand out ready to shake, “deal.”
Chrollo, smirking, took Kunikida’s hand. But instead of shaking it he pulled it up towards his mouth and pressed his plump lips against Kunikida’s calloused skin. There was a spot of coke on the back, and Chrollo’s wet tongue darted out quickly to lick it up. Chrollo raised his eyes to meet Kunikida’s, smiled and then dropped his hand suddenly. Kunikida was left weak and shaking. It was the most intimate moment he had ever experienced in his entire life since he last attended the Oxbridge brothels 2 hours ago. Chrollo smirked, he knew the debilitating effect his sexiness had on men and women.
“Oh yeah boys! Let's get jiggy with it!” Nobunaga the shadow cried.
“Franklin, lay a beat down!”
The biggest of the shadows moved forward, a hulking of a man. He raised his lumbering hands to his face and started to beatbox.
The Troupe started grooving to the beat, swinging and thrusting their hips.
Feitan stepped forward, and without hesitation started to rap fluently.
“Screw me with a nail
You have a snail trail
Go get my mail
My man is called Dale
This ship will soon sail
My movement is kinetic
I weigh a metric
Tonne, my blood is septic
My mind is hectic
All because I am kinetic
Run from the gun
Son burnt from the sun
Done with your mum
Done with your MUUUUUUUUUUUUM!”
The last line was screamed by the entire Phantom Troupe, clearly they thought it was hella steampunk.
“Booyah!” the Troupe cried, high fiving each other. “That was HELLA steampunk!”
The Oxbridge students were impressed by the gang’s performance. Panicking, Kunikida turned to the students. “I don't know about this guys, can we really pull this off?”
Atsushi frowned. “We don't have a choice. We HAVE to win. Potato Chips for Prisons is relying on us!”
“Okay, let's do this!”
“Stop,” a gloved hand was placed on Kunikida’s chest, pushing him back slightly. “Step back guys. I’ve got this!” When the others opened their mouths to protest, Chuuya replied sternly, “my whole life has been leading up to this moment. Don't worry guys, trust me!” he winked at them confidently.
Chuuya stepped forward, grinning. His long coat fluttered dramatically in the wind, his ginger hair flowing gently against his face. His hat was poised perfectly on his head.
“Give me a beat!” he snapped to the Oxbridge students.
Sanji took out his strong leg from his purse and started stamping onto Atsushi’s foot. The cries of pain from the boy created the perfect rhythmic backtrack.
And then Chuuya started to sing, his voice celestial and seraphic, reverberating and resonating against the stone of the alleyway walls.
“Advance, advance
Proceed into my heart
The beating of which you start
Don't eat my strawberry tart
Put you in my shopping cart.”
Throughout the song Chuuya had danced, drifting through the air slowly and solemnly, as though floating through water, his coat swinging in time.
He turned to the others who were standing with their mouths open. They knew Chuuya had mad skills but THIS was way more hella fire than they could have thought possible.
“EVERYBODY!” he called out, confident in his friends’ abilities.
“Advance, advance
Proceed into my heart
The beating of which you start
Don't eat my strawberry tart
Put you in my shopping cart.”
As he sang, and led the Advance Dance, the others tried to copy his rad moves. Sanji and Atsushi of course focused on the beat. Akutagawa tripped on his Rashomon coat and ended up having a coughing fit on his hands and knees, Zoro started dancing in the wrong direction - backwards instead of forwards, Kyoya’s glasses fell off when he swivelled too quickly - blinded, he had to grope around on the ground for them, Tamaki (munching cocaine) hopped around randomly - too high to be able to follow a choreographed masterpiece, Kunikida tried his best as this brilliant dance was Ideal, but alas!- his shoelaces were untied!- cursing, he tripped and fell flat on his face.
“NOT TODAY SATAN,” he screamed into the ground. Not Ideal.
As hopeless as the others were, thankfully Chuuya’s prowess was enough on its own. Twas all that and a bag of chips.
The Phantom Troupe writhed in pain, falling to the floor.
“Yamero!” they screamed.
“How is this possible?” Chrollo gasped. “This song, it’s too good! It's such an amazing song! And the dance! It’s art! No! Never before in my 6 months as a professional drug dealer and songwriter have I heard such a great song!”
“Please stop!” Shalnark cried, tears streaking down his face.
By the end, Chuuya was also in tears. After seeing his worst nightmare in the Mirror of Erised, where the audience killed themselves from his singing, Chuuya had felt nervous singing again. But his mind had drifted back to that one time his sensei had praised him.
-
At that time, it had been nearing sunrise. The cherry blossoms sifted to the floor. Chuuya had sat on a bench below them, shoulders slumped, picking petals off stems and contemplating lyfe.
“Chuuya.”
The boy looked up at his music teacher.
Chuuya had not sung since Pokkle’s funeral, before his professors had been put in prison. He gulped.
“Pokkle may be a good singer. But your voice,” Hawkeye sighed, “Is also very good. Please start singing again.”
Chuuya’s lips had trembled, eyes filling with tears. Was his music teacher telling the truth? He had not sung for years as he had doubted his skills. Was there a slight chance Chuuya was wrong, and that maybe he could sing well?
“Okay, Professor Hawkeye.”
-
That praise had given him the confidence to sing again after so long. And now, thinking back to it, it gave him the courage to overcome the anxieties brought to light by the mirror. Coming back to the present, Chuuya was faced with the Phantom Troupe, trembling and praising his prowess. For once, Chuuya felt fulfilled. He felt he had finally accomplished the impossible. He had been praised for his singing.
“We… admit defeat. You were hella fresh. Your flow was just too good. Yall was wicked!” Shalnark said solemnly once his fits of mania had subsided.
“So we can leave?” Kunikida grunted.
“Yes. And here take this with you, as a commemoration for your genius,” Chrollo handed them a sizable object. “These are a pair of Kurta eyes,” he informed them.
“They're very rare,” Shalnark added. “There are no living Kurta left after all-”
“Well except one-” Nobunaga interjected.
“They all died out for some reason, can't remember why,” Shalnark continued.
“I can't remember either. Guess it'll always be a mystery,” Chrollo shrugged. “Oh well, bye now!”
He waved them goodbye as the Phantom Troupe disintegrated into darkness.
The Oxbridge students turned to leave. But first they turned to Chuuya.
“Well done! You really saved our skins there!” Sanji slapped Chuuya on the back.
“Chuuya-san, your singing was AMAZING!” Atsushi gushed.
The others murmured in agreement.
Even Dazai found himself nodding in approval, though he would never vocalise his praise.
Chuuya found himself blushing, overwhelmed by the positive feedback. “Thanks guys! This really means a lot to me!”
“You've done Hawkeye proud,” Akutagawa congratulated, forcing a smile onto his face. He was so unused to smiling that the skin of his lips were unaccustomed to being stretched by movement, and so they immediately ripped and teared open, blood dripping in copious amounts to the floor.
Chuuya smiled gently, “shut the hell up Akutagawa.”
“Yeah! Don't forget this is all your fault Akutagawa! We wouldn't have even needed to do this dance off if you hadn't led us down this god forsaken alley!” Dazai sniffed.
Chuuya remained silent. He couldn't be bothered to tell them that it was in fact him that had led them down the alley. He also decided not to tell them he knew the Phantom Troupe lived in that alley. Or that he also knew that they liked to challenge people to rap and dance offs. Maybe we wanted the opportunity to sing in a competitive atmosphere. Maybe he wanted praise too. Why should only Ranpo be the only one that receives praise?
“Come on guys, let’s go home!”