Some Teacher: Second Semester!

(5.5) Game time!

"You don't have a choice Fumei," Ippantekina said. "I helped you with your thing, fought a fucking gang, now it's your turn."

"Why do we have to do this bullshit again?" Fumei asked, fastening her ponytail with a hair tie.

"It's a battle for honor," he answered.

"Oh, so no reason whatso-fucking-ever then, got it." Fumei rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. "Why didn't you just ask your best friend Hinata, isn't he Mr. Sporty?"

"Yeah, but in this particular game, you're better."

"I haven't played since middle school."

"You got your nickname for a reason."

"You have no fucking idea." She finished tying up her long, raven hair and followed Ippantekina onto the court. As soon as her hands were free, he tossed her the basketball. 

"It's a two on two match," he explained. "You and me versus Manuke and Ijime from Kadaru Academy."

"Ugh, you mean that other shithole prep school that isn't the shithole prep school we go to?" She made a face. "So this is the equivalent of two dumbass rich kids waving their limp fucking hands at each other saying 'not the face' and calling it a fistfight."

"Bitch, no. Kadaru has the best basketball team in the city."

"Wow, this is gonna suck balls. We're gonna be fucking annihilated."

"Shut the fuck up Fumei, we're gonna kick ass and send 'em home with their tails between their legs. Now take those stupid sunglasses off or they're gonna get broken."

"Fuck off, Harushit," she grumbled.

"Oh wow, if it isn't little Ippi-chan!" The Paradise High students turned their heads toward the new voice to see two boys, both of them easily six feet tall, probably taller, walking towards the court, clad in workout gear.

Fumei snorted. "Ippi-chan?" Ippantekina scowled.

"Oh wow," said the slightly taller of the two, the bottle-blond with darkening roots who had spoken before. "I was afraid he might bring someone who was actually good at basketball, but he brought his girlfriend instead! Oh wow, she's even smaller than he is!"

"Listen assface, I'm not his girlfriend! And stop talking shit about us like we're not here!" Fumei said. "Who the fuck are you anyway?"

"Oh wow, my apologies!" the blond said, and that stupid 'oh wow' thing of his was already grinding on Fumei's nerves like heavy-grain sandpaper. "I'm Ijime, and this is Manuke." He gestured to his friend with black bedhead and a wretched orange t-shirt who hadn't said a word yet. "And you are?"

"Nunna your goddamn business you arrogant prick," she leered.

"Oh wow, that was rude of her." Ijime looked at his friend who did nothing to respond. 

"Oi! I thought I said to stop talking like we're not here!" 

"You see why this challenge was worth it?" Ippantekina said smugly.

"I was ready to botch this bullshit and make you look bad—" Ippantekina gasped, offended— "but now I want to grind this fucker into a bloody pulp. I guess crushing his heart and soul to hell in this match with have to suffice."

"That's what I like to hear." If Fumei was actually going to try, Ippantekina felt sure they had this game in the bag. "Alright, standard rules apply. We've got the whole court, so we may as well use it. We play to twenty one points, winner has to be at least two points ahead. We're not playing with modified scores for female players. No time limit. No time outs. Players own up to their own fouls. Understood?"