A Phone Call From Hell
Ring ring. Ring ring.
The phone that sat in the phone booth made a peculiar sound. It was ringing. But who could it be? Was it even possible for public phones to ring like this?
With trembling fingers, Fukuzawa gripped the shaft of the receiver. He stroked it slowly with his index finger before bringing it up to his mouth. Lips quivering, he managed to ask a single question.
“Hewwo?” he whispered horse-ly.
“Hewwo. Tis me,” the voice on the other end replied. “We have what you want, what you've been searching for.”
“WHO IS THIS?” Fukuzawa screamed into the phone, tears already running down his face. “WHERE IS AYATO?”
The other teachers were startled by this.
“Ayato? Is that Ayato?” Victor asked excitedly. The cultivator in his arms moaned.
Mustang reached over and gripped Fukuzawa’s trembling arms that were clutching at the phone. Everyone knew of Fukazawa’s irrational fear of phones, fear of picking them up when they were ringing, the fear of receiving bad news on the other end...it began when Toddler Ranpo came into his care, and even though Ranpo was a big boy now, Fukazawa’s fear remained…
“Owo what’s this?” Nobunaga asked, confused by the teachers’ reactions.
“Cum to the Knottingham Trent ruins at 5 o’clock. Be there or be square,” the voice said to Fukazawa before the dial tone was heard.
Fukazawa held the phone to his ear, gasping, “WHO IS THIS?” he cried, his silvery hair bouncing about his face as he screamed with panic, “WHERE IS HE???”
“There there,” Mustang patted Fukazawa’s shoulder, “It’s okay now. You can let go of the phone,” Mustang attempted to soothe the elderly man with more pats on his shoulder, trying to prise the phone from his grip.
“NO!” Fukazawa yelled, “NO! NO! NOOOO!” he held onto the phone booth as Mustang tugged him away, sniffling and sobbing. “WHO IS IT?? WHO IS ITTTTT?” In the scuffle his yakata spread open, revealing his unblemished creamy thighs.
“Compose yourself,” said Hawkeye, looking away, uncomfortable with the raw emotion and thighs on display. He wasn’t a fan of pale, wrinkly, old-people thighs, he much preferred the thighs he saw to be tan, and muscular. Not that he was thinking of a specific person’s thighs. His eyes flitted to Shanks.
Fukazawa sobbed loudly, resigning the phone to Mustang’s grip and falling to the floor on his knees, crying into his hands. The sky, it opened, the heavens saw Fukazawa’s beautiful face and Usopp ordered for the rains to cum pouring down in great streaks of white, the taste of salt lavishing his lips and staining his chest in a glorious halo of fluids.
“Fukazawa-san,” Victor pushed through all of the tutors, still cradling the young Chinese mafia cultivator in his arms, “It’s ok. The phone can’t hurt you. Ranpo is safe, he’s not a toddler. No one is taking him away from you.”
“So - uh,” Tomoe stared at Fukazawa deadpan, “Where’s Ayato?”
“I can’t believe you let me walk Deus down the aisle,” Fukazawa started sobbing even harder, chest quaking with pain, “AAAAAAAAAAAA-”
“It could be worse. You could have fucked him,” Tomoe muttered to himself.
“I HAVE!” Fukazawa screamed, slamming his fists against the floor, “AND HE’S THE BEST LAY I’VE EVER HAD!” the admission made Fukuzawa sob louder, blood dripping from his fists as he punched the floor in anguish.
“Now, now,” said Shanks comfortingly. Fukuzawa had had a long day, and for him to admit to fucking Deus - the biggest unspoken secret only the elder members of the 420 gang had known about, to which they’d been sworn to secrecy - clearly he had reached breaking point, “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.” Although for the other teachers (bar Tomoe), the things they weren’t proud of was nothing akin to sleeping with such an ugly creature, of course.
Fukazawa blew his nose into Shanks’ BRAND NEW flowery capri pants that he’d purchased half-off in Marks and Spencers (he may be an Emperor but he was no snob, he could always appreciate a bargain at a commoners’ store) and then wiped it against his prickly leg hair. It made Fukuzawa’s nose sting, which only led to more tears. Shanks looked away to protect the old man from seeing the cringe and disgust on his face. Fuku was already in a fragile state, seeing his friend’s revulsion would destroy him.
“Honk! Fukuzawa-chan! Enough of this petty drivel. We are on a mission! We can grieve for the fallen once we arrive at the end of our quest, but until then, we must bravely continue on! Cum! I shall lead the charge!” Hawk cried, nose in the air. He paused suddenly. “W-where are we going?”
“He - he’s at the ruins of the late university, Knottingham Trent University,” Fukazawa finally admitted, eyes glittering grey with unshed tears. His lips, worried and bitten, were a plump salmon pink - the pink blush also colouring his nose and cheeks from his sobs.
“The church,” Kaname gasped, clutching his prayer beads tightly. The strand shattered and fell to the floor, beads rolling all over the floor. One rebounded from the floor and ricocheted into Hawk’s nostril, making the disgusting piglet snort loudly. Once a Buddhist, Kaname’s priesthood had been forced upon him by Oxbridge and he’d renounced his faith. But what if the other priests asked him church-y trivia?? He knew none of it. He didn’t even know what Christianity was.
“No, I said Knottingham Trent, jeez, please listen more closely Kaname-kun,” Fukuzawa muttered.
“Thank Pokkle we are not going to a church!” Kaname cried, wiping the sweat off his brow. “A church is not a place for a young priest like me!”
“Aren't you officiating Ayato’s wedding? In the church later?” Levi asked.
Kaname shivered. “For Ayato, I would do anything.”
Levi hardly listened to Kaname’s response. It suddenly dawned on him. Knottingham Trent??? For Levi that meant puddles of piss, crying Yuki, and the shitty low-grade marujana leaf he grew for himself in the courtyard. His time as janitor in that school had been a prison sentence. Tomoe put his hand on Levi’s shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. He knew how much his friend had suffered within those cardboard walls, and it hurt his heart that he would have to go back.
“What are you thinking? Interested in going back there?” Mustang said faux-casually. If Levi left that would be a great way of killing the competition.
“Silence, all of you,” Shanks said commandingly. “Ayato needs us. And we need him. I’d walk into the lair of Yuki anyday if it meant returning with Ayato in my arms.”
“Here here,” Victor nodded with a stern expression on his face. No-one was talking about Soma, but Victor’s heart was heavy with worry. Where was he, where was the boy? He hadn’t been in Tomoe and Deus’ wedding photos, but finding Ayato was the only lead Victor had to finding his whereabouts. Where else could he have gone?
Victor was still holding the young Chinese mafia cultivator in his arms, though Victor had placed a Kurta eye in his pocket (NOT his Pokkle’s pocket, his real pocket, jeez). As soon as they got to a medical doctor (not the other kind, they were useless) they would put the eye into this young fellow’s socket.
“Where is it?” Kakashi turned to Fukazawa, who was still kneeling on the floor, “Where is the disgusting university, Knottingham Trent University?”
-
The teachers arrived promptly at the venue. The cardboard pillars of the once famous institute had collapsed, the cardboard floor eroded and destroyed by weather. In crevices of the remaining building homeless people shivered and hid, their sunken eyes betraying the terror they felt at their likely impending death.
A crowd of people awaited them, huddled in the now abandoned quad. Stadium lights had been arranged, striking through the oncoming darkness of the nearing dusk to illuminate the stage that had been set up. A cold wind rattled the fallen leaves around them, wiping them up at their feet.
Fukazawa was worrying about Ayato, with whom he hoped to now be reunited.
“It’s chilly outside, did he have a coat?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Victor patiently, “the jacket he wears all the time.”
“Do you think he’s eaten today?”
“I’m sure he has. And if he hasn’t, we have food right here,” Kakashi was talking about Hawk of course.
“I hope he had something healthy,” Fukuzawa wiped his nose with his sleeve in the way he always told Ranpo NOT to do.
Levi tried not to cringe too hard. He wished someone had told him of Fukazawa’s antics before he took the gig of janitor at Oxbridge. Thankfully Fukazawa being lame was enough to distract him from being back at piss-drenched Knottingham, its cardboard walls constantly moulded from the amount of piss soaked into them.
“Ayato always does,” Shanks reminded him, “When he eats people, he only eats the low-fat bits like abs. And he eats ALL his vegetables. He’s the only one that can get Luffy to eat them too.”
He smiled nostalgically, thinking of his beloved friend, “I wonder… if he were here, what would he say?”
“Probably ‘yo yo wassup my brothas? Don’t be tripping dawgs, that’s wack. You gotta chill yoselfs before ya kill yoselfs. Imma be aight, it ain’t that deep’ Or something to that effect,” Hawkeye said tonelessly. This was how the youths spoke after all.
The teachers nodded in agreement. Knowing Ayato, that was exactly what he would say.
The teachers found themselves near the front of the crowd. They sat hesitantly, looking around at the others in confusion. Ihsusta sprawled out in the aisle, legs spread open as the tiger bent down to clean itself, running its tongue over its sodden fur. The teachers cringed and looked away, wondering why Atsushi would be so disgusting to spread his legs so suggestively in a public space such as this.
“What are y'all doing here?” Victor in his Russian accent asked the man next to him. “Why have other people got seats to us paying a ransom? Is it that interesting?”
“Did you guys pick the public phone too?” the man asked, also confused.
“Oh,” a woman from the row in front turned to the teachers, “He’s been doing that. Calling random numbers and hoping someone picks up. That’s how he filled the seats, by promising everyone what they were missing.”
“WHO IS HE???” Hawk asked. “AND HOW DOES HE KNOW WE WANT AYATO?”
“Shhhhhhhhhhh,” another person said, “It’s starting.”
The crowd suddenly quietened, the vicinity turning dark for a moment.
“Duh duh duh, duh duh duh, duh duh duhhhhhh!” A masked man ran onto the stage, twirling around. On the final ‘duh’ he stopped, facing the audience, strobe lights bouncing, spotlights twirling around the stage, the loud theme tune blaring alongside his words, “Welcome toooooooo PRANK STAGE!!, the show where I, Shougo,” the man removed his masquerade mask, revealing his gloriously smooth skin, “Dooooooo PRANKS!”
Some time ago, the crowd would have cheered and hooted and screamed. But ever since that one prank - yes, THAT prank - the crowds had been silent. The ratings for Prank Stage!! had plummeted, the fanbase practically nil...
“Pranks?” someone in the crowd sobbed, “You said you had my baby! Where’s my baby!”
“Did someone ask for a baby?” Shougo said jovially, cupping his ear with his palm and pulling an exaggerated expression, “HEEEEERRRREEEE it is!”
A hole opened in the sky and a baby corpse fell from it, blood and guts showering the lady’s lap.
She screamed, so loudly that even Kakashi felt a little pity for her.
Fukazawa started silently sobbing again - what if that had been Toddler Ranpo? He was so tiny as a child, he too could have fallen from the sky...
Hawk licked his lips. A young baby? The baby corpse licked its lips. Bacon?
“Look under your seats! YOU get a baby corpse! YOU get a baby corpse! YOU GET A BABY CORPSE! WE ALL HAVE BABY CORPSES!” Shougo cried, pointing at the crowd enthusiastically.
Nobunaga excitedly looked under his seat, but was immediately disappointed, finding no corpse there. He huffed angrily, glaring at the others in the crowd, searching for a corpse to steal off someone else. But there were NO more corpses to be found.
“AH-HA!” Shougo screamed in excitement, pointing at the audience, most of which were looking under their seats, “YOU FOOLS, TWAS JUST ANOTHEEEEERRRRR PRANK!!”
Confetti was suddenly released over them, spurting from the confetti cannons that had been set up on the side. it reminded Hawkeye of his last orgasm. Kalluto was OF COURSE the one in charge of this confetti watching with masked glee.
The clapping started off slow from Leorio in the back, but soon the whole crowd was cheering and hollering, tears of joy cascading down their faces.
“Are you sure Ayato and Soma are here?” Victor lent over to ask Fukazawa, clearly worried for Soma.
“Yes, yes,” Levi interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. He was secretly one of the few Shougo diehard stans, and he couldn’t BELIEVE he was able to see him LIVE. If Victor ruined this for him, Levi wasn’t sure how much cocaine would heal his wounds.
“So,” Shougo said, clapping his hands together, “I’m sorry for those previous pranks. I simply couldn’t resist. Alas I called you all here for a reason. Some might call it fate, for I was dialling random numbers to fill these would-be barren seats,” Shougo spread his arms wide, “But you all came!”
The crowd clapped.
“Yes, yes. And I promised you something. One thing. The one thing you’ve all been after. And here he is.”
A shadowy figure approached the stage, his face dark and obscured.
The teachers tensed, holding their breaths.
The crowd started muttering. Who could this shadowy figure be, this person they all wanted? Who could this WHOLE crowd want?
“And you saw it here first, IIITTTTTTT’S PRANK STAGE!!” Shougo winked at the camera to the side of the ‘stage’. “See you all after this quick commercial break!” Shougo licked his lips a little, smirking and tousling his hair.