Caught Wed-Handed
“Ugh, did you hear them this morning?” Yosano tapped ash off the spliff, “Making such a ruckus.”
“Why did Ayato insist on keeping the wedding a secret, Yosano-san?” Hawkeye lent back in her chair, relaxing her shoulders as she stared up at the greenhouse ceiling. She oftentimes hid in the Oxbridge greenhouses between classes to get high on her own. She was actually using her magic to grow her own hybrid strains of weed - and selling them to Levi for an inflated price, of course. The pothead was so high all the time that he didn’t even know.
For Yosano’s bachelorette party she’d decided on something less mellowing and more...uplifting. One of her newest strains, but Hawkeye was positive of the effects.
“Well…” Yosano considered, “It just seemed like a lot of effort.” If Yosano had the taste for romance, she might admit that neither she nor Ayato had felt they needed any more than each other. That the promise they planned to make felt more raw if spoken under the moonlight with fewer witness, whispers between two lovers who had almost lost each other so recently. That the silence between them would be the last insulation of air in the cool evening before they finally stood side by side as wife and husband.
Hawkeye nodded in understanding, taking the spliff when Yosano handed it to her, “Oh absolutely.”
“And now I bet he’s gotten all roped in on something with the teachers,” Yosano laughed fondly, shaking her head, hair bouncing around her chin.
“Poor lad. I don’t envy him. What else could one want as a relaxing day before getting married but an endless supply of weed, washed down by Inosuke’s famous deer leg ramen with a side of coke…”
“Hear hear,” Yosano picked up her glass of wine by the stem and clinking it against Hawkeye’s.
-
Four hours later Yosano and Hawkeye were still in the greenhouse, hot boxed, both fully-body laughing as they attempted to talk, only getting out a few words each before falling into peals of laughter,
“And when bitch Luffy -” Hawkeye started, snorting and gasping when Yosano instantly start laughing, tears sliding down their faces.
“And - oh fuck - that time Kakashi -” Yosano began, stomach aching as she choked through her laughter, throat tense -
“That time - Hawkeye tried to -” Hawkeye reminded them -
The greenhouse door pounded open, Atsushi running up to the cackling pair, “Y-Yosano-sensei!”
Nekozawa followed after him, alongside Tamaki and Naruto.
“Cocaine?” Tamaki inquired, reaching out toward the snow-like substance.
Hawkeye slapped his hand away, the grabby little cocaine addict.
“Nekozawaaaaaa,” Yosano reached up and ran her fingers over his hood, “I lovvveeee this, where did you get it?” she instantly started laughing again, Hawkeye joining her.
“There’s been a medical emergency!” Atsushi gasped desperately, “Yosano-sensei, we need you!”
Yosano and Hawkeye started at Atsushi expectantly - one beat passed, then two…
Upon meeting each other’s gaze they both started howling with laughter, clapping their hands on their knees, Hawkeye’s nose running as she wiped it on the back of her fist.
“Yosano-sensei,” Nekozawa’s quiet voice dropped a little - in urgency, or disappointment, or fear - “A student - Kyoya. He’s in dire need of your help.”
-
Yosano was nothing if not a professional, she thought as she passed down the Oxbridge halls trying to walk in a straight line, her arms flapping at her sides. If she had to rest one hand on the wall as she walked it was only because she wanted to, not because she was so high that she was at risk of tripping over - and if she had to take frequent breaks to stifle her laughter behind her fist, that was merely because she WANTED to, not because she had no control over her own body.
“Kyyyyoyyyyaaaa!” she sung, waltzing into the medical wing.
Hawkeye bounded after her, cackling at Yosano’s exuberance.
“Y-Yosano sensei?” Kyoya gasped, unable to lift his head as he looked around in panic. Around him stood a gaggle of his classmates, all poised with different expressions of worry or concern.
“We found them like this,” Nekozawa strung his fingers together with worry, eyes darting back and forth between Yosano and Hawkeye. For if both of the senseis with medical abilities - Yosano, who was a trained junior doctor, and Hawkeye, who had reattached Chopper’s leg using botany - were too high, then what hope was there for Kyoya, who could they call?
Chopper had of course not been considered for Kyoya’s medical issue, mostly because Kyoya could not stand the mammal, his matted fur, and the stench that followed his every tread.
With the pair of Oxbridge professors came a deep waft of weed-smell, pungent and sickly.
“What -” her voice broke into laughter again when she met Hawkeye’s gleeful gaze. After around a minute she managed to compose herself - a little - “What - what seems to be the matter, Kyoya,” her lips painted in a smile as she failed to keep her expression neutral and medicinal.
“He had another heart attack!” Chuuya cried passionately, pointing to the bed, at Kyoya’s tired form.
“Only I will be the judge of that!” Yosano cried, pointing indiscriminately to the crowd of students, “Suicidal one, hand me that stethoscope!”
Five pairs of hands reached for the aforementioned medical equipment. A small struggle ensued, though victory was finally conceded to Dazai, who had the highest number of suicide attempts on record.
“Avert your gayze homos, while Kyoya removes his shirt!”
The students tried not to look at their sensei too much, trying not to see her too much in her vulnerable and drug-addled state.
Yosano sat beside Kyoya and held the end of the stethoscope to his bare breastbone, humming with her legs crossed. She had a clipboard in one hand as nodded while listening to his heartbeat.
She finally strung the stethoscope around her neck, still nodding clumsily.
“W-what’s the verdict, Yosano-sensei?” Tamaki asked, worry lacing his tone.
“I can say with absolute certainty,” Yosano stared up at Tamaki with seriousness, “He has bad bitch syndrome.”
“Oh thank goodness,” Naruto’s weak knees failed him and he collapsed onto the floor, head in hands.
“Sensei, please,” Atsushi appealed, “This isn’t a time - for - for jokes!”
Hawkeye’s silence failed her and she was suddenly crying - nay, SOBBING - with laughter.
“Tis but an arrhythmia,” Yosano said, nodding again, “Most likely just a panic attack, but perhaps could have been a minor and non-fatal stroke. Perhaps stress-related. Are you stressed for any reason? Alas there is no way of knowing - there’s only one thing for it,” she started at the top button of her shirt.
“Must have been him shouldering the stress of this school’s reputation all by himself, to make sure we don’t drop in the leaderboards. If that were to happen and Kyoya was to graduate from a less than prestigious university then his father’s company would surely be inherited by one of his other siblings, who would be deemed to have a better skillset for such tasks,” Hikaru muttered to Mori, unheard by anyone else.
“Don’t - don’t you have - machines that can check -” Kyoya tried, staring up at Yosano in fear.
“No, they all melted when Kunikida turned to flame that time when Chopper was here with one leg missing, in the same bed you lay in. Alas I tried to have them replaced with haste but the postage was simply ridiculous -”
“Ridiculous!” Hawkeye echoed, laughing,
“Ridiculous,” she nodded, high fiving Hawkeye, before resuming her task of unbuttoning her shirt.
“Hawkeye-sensei, do you have to…” Hikaru began, before biting his lip and looking away.
The sensei in question was attempting to light a fresh spliff but was holding it in her mouth the wrong way, both hands working to flick the lighter.
“Fire!” she cried with mirth when the filter caught ablaze.
The students looked between them in worry, unsure of who should take the fire hazard from Hawkeye’s grip; she was flicking the spliff around and playing with it as if it were no more than a glorified match.
“There there,” Dazai approached her, so used to dealing with a drug-addled Tamaki, “Give it to daddy. Come on.”
“EXCUUUUUSEEEE ME!” Hawkeye cried, slapping Dazai’s hands away, “Do not address me like that! Creep! Creepy boy!”
Yosano tsked, dropping her shirt onto the foot of Kyoya’s bed.
With a flick of her fingers the flame was extinguished, spliff appearing to be intact, and Hawkeye pressed it between her lips the correct way this time before lighting it.
Botany magic, a mystery to all.
“C’mere,” Yosano made grabby hands to Hawkeye, who handed over the spliff.
Kyoya looked at Yosano in fear as she took three heavy drags, white smoke spanning over the hospital wing, her lips pursed in a perfect ‘o’ as she exhaled.
“I need a girlfriend,” Naruto muttered, failing to avert his gaze. The Nine-Tails wagged it nine tails in agreement, graciously sending some chakra over to Naruto for if he wanted to practise his deadly, undefeated sexy jutsu later, now that there was a new model for inspiration.
“Y-Y-Yosano-sensei-” Kyoya gasped.
“Now if you’ll excuse - EXCUSE me, I need privacy for this procedure,” Yosano dipped into a semi-bow, grabbing the end of Kyoya’s bed to stop herself from falling to the floor, “So-”
“Are you sure you can do it now, sensei?” the fear was blatant on Atsushi’s face as he watched Yosano with concern.
“Yes. I am very sober right now. As sober as Shanks on a Monday morning.”
Hawkeye’s howl of laughter, and the ever-present weed stench, did little to subdue anyone’s fears.
-
As always the procedure went without a hitch, with Kyoya in better form than ever!!!! He had never managed to sing and dance until Yosano had used her medical abilities, which included bringing him as close to death as possible before healing them. The intricacies of the procedure were kept largely under wraps, a well-guarded secret, but after the near-death experience all physical wounds would be healed.
Which was the case for Kyoya.
Yosano cracked her knuckles as she lent back in her slouched chair in Hawkeye’s greenhouse, resuming her bachelorette party…
Cue more wine, coke, weed, and deer leg ramen specials.
-
“What you do is you apply antiseptic to the incision area - yes, there you go, and THEN you grab your scalpel - still warm if you’re lucky, from the last procedure you just did -”
“No scalpel,” Hawkeye rifled through Yosano’s medical bag.
“Whaaaaaaat?” Yosano screamed. She currently had her leg propped up on Hawkeye’s knee and was trying to demonstrate to the botany teacher how to do stitches the non-magic way - which meant creating an incision SOMEWHERE so she could practice. Yosano’s leg was the perfect place.
Hawkeye giggled, “Nooooooo scalpel!” she made jazz hands, her head tipped back as she guffawed.
“Hawkeye!” Yosano cried, “This is SERIOUS. Very serious. Look at me. Yes. Look at me,” Yosano gripped Hawkeye’s forearms, pupils blown wide, drug-addled, “This is SERIOUS.”
“Yes,” Hawkeye nodded bonelessly, “Serious. Very serious.”
“Find the scalpel,” Yosano’s nods mirrored Hawkeye’s uncoordinated as her eyes fazed over, “The scaplel.”
“Scaplel,” Hawkeye nodded for a while before remembering her task, pawing through the medical bag again.
“Found it!” Hawkeye announced, brandishing -
“They are SCISSORS, goddamn it!”
“We can always use this,” Hawkeye reached over her shoulder and showed Yosano her little gardening saw that she used on tiny tree trunks, “It’ll be fine, FINE -”
Yosano gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth.
“Gasp?” Hawkeye stared at the saw, “No sawing?”
“The scaplel. I must have. Left it. In someone. While doing a procedure.”
“Oh no.”
“Kyoya? But which scalpel did I use for him? It could be in - in -”
“Anyone,” Hawkeye said with awe, remembering the annual medical check-ups just a handful of days ago, when each student was put under the knife for no real reason.
-
“Oh hey Yosano. What are you doing with that tiny saw - AAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Atsushi cried when Yosano jumped atop his frail wimpy body, pinning him down with her knees and cutting through his shirt, gritting her teeth and applying more pressure so she could cut through the bone of his ribcage.
“Is it there, boss?” Hawkeye asked from over her shoulder, watching Yosano dig her fingers into Atsushi’s body as he silently cried, body convulsing and muscles spasming in shock. Yosano had a shop around for her missing scalpel, wiggling her fingers around Atsushi’s flesh.
“No,” Yosano said with disappointment, hand red, blood dripping down her forearm. “Onto the next potential scalpel THIEF!”
“Are you gonna heal him?” Hawkeye pointed to Atsushi, the boy’s eyes wide open and unseeing, lips moving soundlessly.
“Ugh he can REGENERATE his limbs, I’m sure a tiny scratch means NOTHING to him,” Yosano said with a flick of her hair.
“Atsushi-kuuuuunnnnn----!” Dazai waltzed in, “I have a pineapple for your next livestre-- YOSANO-SENSEI!!”
Yosano had lept onto Dazai’s back, her arm tight around his neck as she tried to choke him into submission, pressing against his windpipe. It took a matter of seconds for Dazai to pass out.
“Use this,” Hawkeye offered politely, handing Yosano the pair of surgical scissors she’d held onto, “Might help you cut through some of the fat and muscle.”
“Good thinking,” Yosano nodded, leaving her trusty saw on the floor as she stabbed the scissors into Dazai’s torso, creating a puncture wound so she could maneuver her scissors. In a matter of moments Dazai’s chest was inverted, wound pulled open between Yosano’s hands as she searched for her missing scalpel. If only he had planned for this :( .
“Oi, give me a hand.”
Hawkeye held Dazai’s torso open so Yosano could dip her hands in and look between Dazai’s different organs, pulling out his small intestine and dumping it on the floor to give herself more room to shuffle things around.
“OOooh, what’s that?” Hawkeye nodded toward something silver and glimmering in the folds of Dazai’s flesh.
“UGh, just a £50,000 coin. Can’t believe he’s still eating spare change, even at this age.” Yosano dropped it back in, hauling Dazai’s intestines off the floor and dumping them in random spaces and gullies.
“Dazai, were you trying to lure me in here for a snog - oh! Hawkeye-sensei - Yosano-sensei, did you -” Tamaki’s face fell when he took in all of the blood, the bloody weapons laying discarded on the floor, and the sickly pale colouring of Dazai’s face.
He took one step back, stumbling, trying to scamper out of the room, chest still and aching as he took in the two almost-deceased forms on the floor - and his senseis, leaning over the bodies with blood on their hands -
“Onto the next student?” Yosano asked with a grin.
-
In the torture chambers, Clay screamed, holding his head between his hands, tears rolling down his face. His trousers were wet with piss, his hair greasy with grease, brain rotten with hallucinations. Oh how he wished he could be free of ghost Hannah!!!
Between his feet lay a glimmering silver scalpel. Clay grabbed it, leaning against the wall - one of the PRESTIGIOUS oxbridge walls - gouging out ‘cave drawings’ into the aged stone, his mind absolutely wrecked by the solitary confinement he was being put through, punished with.
Little did he know that this wasn’t a punishment. Kid Luffy had left the door of the torture chambers unlocked and ajar many moons ago.
Clay was yet to realise he was free.