Chapter Text
For the first half of the morning, it was just another relatively normal day at Funbari High. Classes went along as usual, including Mr. Lasso’s clothing design and sewing class, because for the purposes of this story, that exists! Sounds like a fun class if you’re into fashion, doesn’t it?
And it is! Especially if your primary interest is designing outfits fit for an illicit strip club. Because that is exactly what Mr. Lasso, hereafter referred to as simply ‘Marco,’ was teaching. Anyone who signed up for the class was either an unfortunate soul who foolishly believed this class would just be a free grade, an unfortunate soul who foolishly believed they would be learning legitimate fashion design and not Exhibitionism 101, or a foolish but not unfortunate soul who, for some godforsaken reason I cannot comprehend, actually enjoyed this class.
For example, there was Yoh Asakura, who thought it would be easy, and that he could have what would be essentially a free period, but he was unpleasantly surprised. Perhaps he should have just listened to Anna when she told him to pick something else.
Then, there was Jeanne, the pious student council president who, with all honesty, just wanted to learn about fashion design. Some felt pity for her, while others were envious that she didn’t see anything strange in what they were learning to sew, and thus enjoyed the class in full.
But her grade was only slightly higher than that of Lyserg Diethel, who not only knew of every off-putting and dirty implication that class could offer, but seemed far less repulsed by said implications than anyone else! Seriously, no one knew how or why—it was just a mystery to them.
But for all those students, their suffering (or enjoyment, I don’t fucking know) would soon end, because on this fateful morning an administrator by the name of Mr. Niumbirch, hereafter referred to as simply ‘Silva,’ came to investigate the class.
“Mr. Lasso, just…Just what is going on here?” Silva’s voice alerted the class.
Marco, seemingly unfazed, stared at Silva from his desk for a few seconds before simply stating, “I’m teaching them how to sew leather,” as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Yes, but…” Silva gestured to a very suspicious looking garment on the front table. “What on Earth is that?”
A few students snickered. Marco’s expression remained the same. “Oh, this?”
He lifted up what appeared to be a bondage suit, half-finished but still clearly not appropriate for school. Seriously, it made Kamui uniforms in Kill La Kill look prim and decent. Unfortunately, he forgot to properly remove it from the sewing machine, and it tore, but Marco ignored that.
“It’s an example project I’ve been working on to help the class. What about it?”
Silva was starting to feel impatient, but his face remained calm as he explained, “It’s very inappropriate for the classroom. As a school, we don’t allow fetish-wear on the premises, especially provided to students by a teacher. Put it away and don’t bring it back.”
“What? Fetish-wear?” Marco rose his voice, offended by the accusation. “It is nothing of the sort! This is a display of artisti—“
“Keep talking if you want to be fired. If not, then please be quiet and follow the rules.”
Marco shut up quickly, although he was still visibly angered.
“But, um, one more question. Why is this piece so…tiny?” Silva asked, pinching his fingers for extra effect.
“I made it small so if any of the students wanted to try it on—“
That was the last straw. “Nope, nope we have to launch an investigation here. This can’t go on,.” Silva rubbed his temples, feeling newfound wrinkles form despite him being well under thirty.
One phone call and a few retaliations later, Marco was out of the room and a substitute teacher took his place. But just as the class began to celebrate, they noticed someone was missing: Lyserg!
Oh well, whatever trouble he got into would be his problem. That was the general verdict, and the substitute somehow hadn’t noticed he was gone yet, so no one said anything.
***
Marco didn’t want to lose his job, but a part of him knew he had no choice in the matter. Still, he didn’t want to go to jail! He was determined to fight for his right to design his ridiculous, kinky clothes, even if he couldn’t do it in Funbari High. His passion and vigor were unbreakable. But he didn’t have a lawyer, and what witness would want to speak on his behalf?
Just as he was pondering the answer to that question, he bumped into the one and only Lyserg Diethel, whom Marco couldn’t see because Lyserg is kind of short. Seriously, 162 centimeters at fourteen?
Wait, what was Lyserg doing in the hallway?
“Ow…”
“Lyserg? Why aren’t you in class?”
Lyserg looked up from his now-bumped-into shoulder and his eyes widened. “I was just on my way to the bathroom, and…”
“No you weren’t. Tell me what you were really doing.”
Clearly, that didn’t work. “…I was curious about what happened earlier in class today, so I wanted to see where they took you. But I’m sorry; I won’t do it again, Mr. Lasso.”
Marco felt a bit guilty, having to tell one of the few students who didn’t hate his class with a burning passion that he was just fired. Still, he cleared his throat and said, “No need to apologize, since you won’t be having me after today. I was fired.”
“What?”
“And chances are, I’ll be in jail soon,” He added grimly. But when he saw Lyserg’s worried face, he got an idea! Now, was it a good idea? Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. But after thinking about it for one sixtieth of a minute, he asked, “Does that bother you?”
“Well, we did have a lot of strange projects in class, and your fashion taste is atrocious…but I’m not sure if a jail sentence is—“
“Good, good! You know what, why don’t you skip class for the rest of the day and follow me to the back of the school?” Marco grabbed Lyserg’s hand and promptly led him out of the building, until they reached a secluded area.
Lyserg was beginning to panic. He glanced around for an exit in case he needed to somehow escape the situation, but found nothing.
“You want to keep me out of jail, right?”
“I guess, but I don’t think—“
“Then be my witness in court. If I can secure myself a good lawyer, then I might just be able to remain a free man.”
Lyserg cringed internally. “But there’s already so much evidence against you! you don’t have a chance!”
“You mean we don’t have a chance. Well, we do, but the important thing is, it’s the both of us. And my lawyer.”
“But you said you don’t have one yet…”
“Not yet, Lyserg Diethel, not yet!” Marco corrected. “But soon, that will change...”
Lyserg was not sure about this.