Are you sure you're wearing the right Uniform?

The old generation always says to be grateful.

Oh yeah? Well I'm sick of being grateful.

I could name off a list of reasons why I shouldn't be grateful. Seriously, I can come up with five reasons right now as I'm walking to school. Starting with those girls from my class over there, obviously laughing at me: screw 'em. The smell of diesel that's everywhere in this shitty town. The fact that I'm such an ass about how ungrateful I am, when there's people living in wartorn countries starving to death and getting thrown off bridges all around the world...

You know what? Never mind; to hell with this entire exercise. Though I'm only all riled up because it's the first day of school, and I skipped breakfast this morning, so it's my own damn fault I'm grumpy. 

I need to find a way to relax, so I don't unintentionally blow up on one of my goons. 

So I think about it a lil...

Hmm...

Somewhere, I musta heard or read that if you fix your posture and force a smile, the good feelings will flow. So maybe I should start by trying that.

Right away, people are giving me funny looks. Not just schoolmates, but even the gazes of random pedestrians like truck drivers and salarymen, hustling to get to the subway crunch, are lingering on my -obviously-gorgeous face, for just a bit longer than I'd prefer.

Scheisse! I won't stand for all this harrassment–

I'm only trying to be more positive!

Grr! Alright, I've had it--

I'll rip the private parts off the next jackass who chuckles at me!

Then I see him. It's some kid I don't recognize, but who's wearing my school's plain gray uniform, sitting on a traffic fence while he's reading a book and drinking a soda, when he glances up and his eyes widen as he notices me passing. 

Hmmph!

What's this four-eyes gawking at?!

"I'll SMILE if I wanna, ya damn tree louse!"

He freaks out, with a shrill yelp–

Falling down backwards off the fence.

His book drops. His soda spills across the pavement.

What a klutz!

Still, I guess I'd better help him…

But first, I look him over: 

He's tall and skinny, with glasses and ruffled brown hair. He's wearing an actual tie with his uniform that's all clean and pressed and fully buttoned-up, his bifocals giving him the look of…well, a student. A proper one, that is. Like he's actually going to school to learn something!

"What a nerd," I say to him, grinning, then extend my arm to him. "Good for you, kid; between you and me, that makes you way cooler than any of the yankee goons strutting around the place."

He's acting all nervous--like he's never been complimented before: "Th-thanks."

I help him back up to his feet. Dust him.

I hand him his book that fell--

"East of Eden?" That's the title on the cover.

"Y-yeah, it's great. I love Steinbe--"

"Cool beans, kid."

I offer him some change to make up for the spilled soda.

"You really don't have to–"

"No! I insist. There's such a thing as justice, even in small matters."

"Is that a quote from Confucious?"

"Nah. I just made it up."

"Well then–" He accepts the change, giving a polite bow. "I humbly accept!"

I'm blushing a little, scratching my head at this guy. "Hey kid, are you sure you're wearing the right uniform? You know what school you're heading to now, right? Sure you aren't lost, or that there hasn't been some kind of confusion?"

"No, I assure you, there is no confusion: the school I have been transferred to is called Irorishiro Commercial High School."

"Then let's walk together." I point a thumb back at the two giant, pompadored goons that have been silently following behind me. "Unless you're not too intimidated by my bodyguards. Don't worry, they won't bite unless you bite first."

"Uhh, sure thing. I could use the company right now, to be honest."

"Got you some of those first day butterflies?"

"Eh, that's one element of it." He sighs. "Really, it's a lot more than that."

I decide not to pry. Just yet.

"Something you said earlier stood out to me. Earlier, you called me boss…"

"You're Maximillian Akari, aren't you?"

"That I am. But how'd you know?"

"You're called the dreaded girl-boss of the Irorishiro School delinquents." He laughs. "It's practically a legend at the school where I'm from, and you just like they described."

What! "Huh!? You sayin' I'm famous?"

"In-famous, more like it."

"Damn right! You gotta be cutthroat to stay on top for as long as I have. But say, what kind of description did you hear? What exactly do the legends describe me as?"

"Uhh...looks like a little kid, big eyebrows, talks funny and shouts a lot."

"Wow!" Is that what people know me as?!

"Honestly, you're a lot nicer than I was expecting. I'm kind of relieved."

"Give it some time; you'll see how much of a tyrannical asshole I really am!" I tell him with a mischievous smirk. Then, I ask the kid his name.

"Kenichi Hirata," he answers.

"Hirata…what's a nice kid like you doing attending a shit school like Irorishiro?"

"It's the only school that will have me."

"Oh?" My curiosity is piqued.

"Because, in my last school…I murdered a schoolmate for spilling my drink."

I laugh. "Good one! Hahaha–"

I'm still laughing until Kenichi stops, and he turns to me with this wicked glare: a look of a killer that screams to me, in no uncertain terms–

"That wasn't a joke."

My heart sinks. Although, I guess I should've seen it coming. 

Because it's true what they say…

When it comes to Irorishiro students–

Always suspect the worst!

After all, Irorishiro is a school that isn't really a school in any functional capacity. Not anymore. Not within the past decade.

It's basically been left to rot, even by the government, and has become more or less a dumping ground for only the most violent youths in Japan. I'm talking about broken windows and peeling pain, mildew and crumbling infrastructure. I'm talking about teenage pregnancies and constant fights breaking out and murder on the daily.

That is, before I took charge.

Walking through the school's front gates, I'm immediately swarmed by guys with way too much gel in their hair.

They love me like a mother they never had, and it's mutual: they're my sons, and they'd die for me just as I would for them at a second's notice. It's a degree of reverence I try not to grow complacent with, but rather always take steps to continually earn.

"Hey there, Ratboy–love the new tat."

"Oz–my man! Went fishing with gramps again this summer?"

"V-lad, when's your band's next gig?"

I remember their names, their stories, and it means the world to them.

I may be the only who does, for most.

Indeed, most of these poor boys have been cast aside by their parents, or society at large. They're neglected, and unloved. They're spit upon and despised for not being able to fulfill the selfish wants of others, without a care for them as individuals. Even though they all have so much to offer the world.

It disgusts me. It's made me disdainful of our culture, distrustful of its institutions that seemingly only pretend to fulfill its stated functions.

So many are left in the dirt, to dirt.

But as they say, a culture which abandons its youth has no future…

Thus, we've since chosen a different path.

***

As Boss Akari walks Kenichi through the inner halls of the Irorishiro Commercial High School for the very first time, several things jump out at him right away.

"There are no…adults."

"Mhm," Akari affirms as she holds out her arms while a group of girls fits her in her signature unbuttoned banchou coat. "We forced all the teachers and other faculty members to quit, with only a few exceptions. There are no lessons, or classes here. No exams."

"So what do you all do around here instead?" Kenichi asks, noticing how bustling it is with a steady stream of tough guys with sunglasses and bleached hair and spiky hair and pompadors and clutching baseball bats whizzing past him, carrying an all-abounding great air of urgency.

Akari can see the twinklings of curiosity in his eyes.

"A night club owner owes some dues, so they're gonna rough him up a bit. The usual."

He stops when he hears a loud KLICK-KLACK-KLICK, peeping inside a classroom to find it full of girls tapping away on typewriters.

"Secretary work. Typing up incident reports and financial statements, the like."

"Financial statements? With what money?"

"We do what we can to survive, kid. Whatever it takes."

"Like what exactly? You don't mean–"

"Crime?" she says it plainly, reading his mind. "It's true that a lot of what we do might be considered shady. Some of it is straight-up illegal. We can't afford to be too picky about what we'll do; although, there is still a moral code we abide by. Such as not stealing, or intentionally causing too much undue suffering onto others."

Kenichi scratches his chin. "Huh. So you're an organization of social delinquents and outcasts, engaging in legally dubious money-making activities, abiding by a moral code. It's sounding more and more like–"

"The yakuza? Then you'd be correct: we're a subsidiary of sorts with the yakuza." She giggles. "You might say...like a Yakuza Jr."

"Wow…this is…" He trails off, looking overwhelmed.

Akari pats him on the shoulder.

"It's okay if you need time to process everything."

"No, it's not that…it's like everything is finally setting in for me now. I was an all-As student before, with a career path toward engineering. I had a bright future. But it's all gone now, and even my mom and dad disowned me. The government enrolled me here, almost as if to erase my existence."

"Because you made them look foolish; you were an honors student that murdered someone," Akari comments. "So now you're one of us, whether you like it or not."

"I…guess so. Which means...this is really all I have left."

Akari smiles mischievously.

"On the plus side, if it makes you feel any better, the kinds of jobs you'll be doing as a new member are super simple! Lots of dumpster diving, woodcutting, lifting and carrying things around…"

Kenichi sighs, sinking to the ground on his face. He's clearly had enough for one day.

A shame, Rizzo thinks--

Because she hasn't even gotten to the best part!