High & Low Oya High Fanfiction (Temporary Discontinued)

Chapter 7

(Fitting Music:  Crossfire - Stephen -MrSuicideSheep)

"Is it Tanaka's men?" I ask, quickly moving over to peer around Murayama's shoulder.

"Furuya," Murayama repeats, his voice full of authority.

     Furuya dips his head in a curt nod, smacking Seki's arm and heading to the door.  "I'll get the classes, you get the dorms."

"We'll do it in the courtyard," adds Murayama, his gaze never straying from the dark-clothes figures gathering outside the school gates.

     Seki grunts in response, and then they are gone, leaving the class door open, squeaking as a gentle breeze filters down the hallway.

     Then, suddenly and wordlessly, Murayama spins around and saunters back into the room.  I watch quizzically as he grabs a chair.  With a loud shout, he flings it into the wall, snapping the thing into pieces.

"What are you doing?" I scream, unsure of his anger issues, "Save it for the people downstairs!"

     The dark-haired man kneels beside the mess he has made and starts flicking some of the remains aside until he finds something suited to his needs.

"Here," says Murayama, tossing me a wooden chair leg.

     I somehow manage to catch it before it smacks me in the face, and I give the male an incredulous stare.  "You want me to...." my voice falls away as my brain connects the dots, "You want me to fight?"

     The man's brown eyes find mine and he nods in confirmation.  "Yes."

     I fling my arms out to the side exasperatingly.  "I know I said I could, but I can't . . . I can't fight."

     "I noticed."  Murayama motions to the chair leg, continuing, "That's what that's for.  We're not going to do all the hard work for your princess."

     I gulp, wondering if, perhaps, I should have taken Cobra's offer to stay at Hoodlum Squad, as Murayama's next words leave his lips like the final nail in my coffin.

"Welcome to Oya High, now come on, we don't want to miss the party."

     I flash the male a tight smile, forcing my legs to comply as I follow him down the corridor and down to the courtyard.  The halls never felt so long, dark, and foreboding.  Raised voices echo up the stairs in stark comparison with the gentle pad of my companion's footsteps.  Small plumes of dust kick up, catching my throat as Murayama picks up the pace and skitters down the stairs.

     The overpowering scent of sweat and musk hits me just before we arrive behind a crowd of students.  Some were still in their Oya High uniforms, and some were not so fortunate, standing half-dressed and with dishevelled hair.  Regardless though they looked ready for a fight with their fists clenched tightly and occasionally shouting when something stirred them up enough.  They knew enough to step aside as Murayama came through, making a clear line to the front where Furuya and Seki stood off against a red-haired individual.

     I lick my lips nervously.  I could feel the harsh stares as I pass, even the lingering glare of the red-headed individual as he catches sight of me.  Without a falter, Murayama steps in front of me, shielding me from the man's view.  However, his otherwise stocky, if not crazy, saunter remains unphased.

     My heart pounds loudly in my ears, and I curl my hands into fists, finally forcing my gaze to lift from my dust-stained sneakers to Furuya beside me and then, finally, Murayama's back.  He was wearing a blue-checkered shirt, and I find myself following the pattern with my eyes as the wind rippled beneath it--it was quite therapeutic.

     Furuya leans in, explaining quietly, "It's Kana from Giriya High."

"I have this thing," begins Murayama, wringing out his fingers, "Where I get this . . . ache in my hands.  Do you get it?"

     I peek around Murayama in time to see Kana's face contort, his eyebrows furrowing together.  Undeterred, the male continues, "It has a cure though . . . fixes it instantly.  Wanna know what it is?"

     Kana's face betrays his confusion, and he shares a look with one of his companions before mumbling a response, "Yeah..?"

     I pull to the side as Murayama's shoulder comes back and suddenly flies forward, his fist sending Kana sprawling into his men.

"Ah," breathes Murayama, swinging around to show off a toothy smirk, "So much better."

     Kana growls, shrugging off his men's supporting grasp, and wipes away a thin line of blood creeping from his lip.

"Giriya High will beat you today," he spits, cracking his neck in anticipation, "Today is the day Oya High falls.  We will end you!"

     "On second thoughts, it might need a little more work," exclaims the man, before letting out a roar and diving into the mass--fists flashing out sporadically.

     It was like a bomb had gone off and everyone suddenly surged into action.  Students smacked against my shoulders as they race past and I grunt, struggling to stay stationary.  Screaming echoes around me, pale pink mist spraying into the air in correspondence with the dull pound of fists against flesh.

     With my heart in my throat, I find myself trying to shuffle backwards as a hot burst of adrenaline pumps through my veins, however, the men racing past push me inevitably closer to the fight.  My fingers curl tightly around my weapon.  My soft skin catches on the splinters, providing a welcome distraction from my doom.

     Suddenly, one of the students from Giriya High looks up, his flat face and wide-spaced eyes narrowing in on me.  I gulp, clutching the chair leg close to my chest and ignoring the fact I could feel my heartbeat race sporadically through the wood.  The man's lips twist to reveal a crooked grin, an easy target, I presume his thoughts whilst he confidently moved closer.  He looked too old to be a student, but then maybe he just failed graduation every year.

     This is it...

"I can do it," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the fighting.

     At the last second, I raise my weapon over my shoulder and bring it swooping down towards the student's head.  Expecting it, the male grabs the wooden leg, dead-centre, stopping it midair.  My eyes widen as his other hand whips up from below and time seems to slow as it buries itself in my abdomen.

     The air whooshes from my lungs, the force lifting me from my toes as the pain begins to radiate across my waist.  I crash into the ground but somehow manage to roll out of the way as the student's shoe stamps down next to my head.

     Coughing and wheezing, I climb to my knees.  A whelp escapes my lips as a hand grips my hair firmly and yanks me to my feet, craning my neck back at an incredibly awkward angle.  Using what little fight I had left in me, I grind my foot on top of his, twisting out of the man's grasp.

"B*tch!" he growls, marching forward as I skitter back.

     Then a familiar jacket leaps in front of my view, followed by a smack and the heavy thud of the student's unconscious body hitting the ground.  Murayama's head cocks around, his eyebrow raised, and a half-smirk spreads across his lips.  He kicks up the wooden chair leg I had lost during my fight and passes it to me.

"Try again," he says casually.

     I look at him, completely dumbfounded.

     He pats my shoulder, pushing me towards the fight.  "I'll keep an eye on you," assures Murayama.