Blitzkrieg, part one (2017-02-02)

No
she chokes out
heart in her throat
pulse and breath
teeth biting into
muscle and sinew
blood on her tongue.
No

“Oh,” says the girl, sidelong glance unsurprised, “Nice trick.”

For a moment he doesn’t understand, glances around to see who she might be speaking to. Surely it can’t be him.

There are people walking, yes, but the crowd flows around them like a river around a rock. Unheeding, unaware.

“I’m talking to you,” she says, head turning, gaze more focused. Looking directly at him.

“You can see me?”

We were the fallen,
sunlight through grey clouds,
air heavy
foreboding.

The sweet relief
of closed eyes,
secrets hidden behind
a false dream.

Scraping feet
scratching nails,
one two rhythm
of being on the run.

We were the fallen,
without wings or fire
or swords
empty.

The chatter of the restaurant is annoying, but all the better to cover their conversation.

“Vanilla milkshake,” she says, placing it on the table in front of him. Already the glass is beading with condensation, confection spilling over with cream and sprinkles.

Across from him she sits, sandwich and chips in a bright red basket, sliced pickle on the side.

“I’m surprised no one tried to steal the table,” she says, gesturing to the crowd waiting–standing room only.

“It’s not really invisibility,” he tries to explain, “It’s just that people don’t notice me.”

“Except for me,” she says, matter of fact, before biting into her sandwich.

“Yes,” he says, “except for you…”

They sit in near silence, chewing sounds notwithstanding, as he considers the situation.

“What did you mean by nice trick?” he asks, finally.

She pauses, swallows, furrows her brow, “Well, I thought you were doing it on purpose.”

the world sighs
scars forgotten
shuddering fearing
another blow

two minutes
to midnight
hands creeping
forward

quickly quietly
the loss of faith
sudden and sharp
our last

“If this is what you’re like without training,” she continues, as if her words aren’t currently shaking his foundations, “You’ll probably be ridiculously powerful if you ever get activated properly.”

Training? Activated? Powerful?

Him? The boy nobody can see?

Impossible.

“Anyway,” she adds, finishing up her basket–the sandwich long consumed, the pickle and chips swiftly disappearing–before wiping off the grease on her fingers, “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m only here for a short job, so don’t worry about running into me again.”

She stands up, the action jarring him out of his thoughts.

“Enjoy the milkshake, yeah? As an apology,” she says, before leaving.

“W-wait, please!” He calls out, hand reaching out, but not touching. The look she casts is forbidding, warning. He wouldn’t dare.

But she stops and humors him anyway.

“What did you mean about…” he trails off, unsure. He doesn’t know enough to ask questions, only knows that he has questions.

A different expression flickers over her face: pity tinged with guilt.

“It’s called Flames.”

~

A/N: Many moons ago, when Trailblazers was still its original fully titled Trailblazers Bright and Bold, I wrote tiny snippets set in a TBaB and Kuroko no Basket fusion in which somehow Kuroko was Tetsuki’s son and she travelled in time to meet him? I don’t know, it was based off an even stranger dream in which Kuroko was her son that her future self travelled back in time to give birth to such that they were the same age at the same time.

Anyway, this is not that.

But I still kind of liked the idea that Kuroko’s misdirection ability was due to unactivated Wave Energy (and that the other Generation of Miracle’s abilities were also unactivated Wave Energy spilling over into their basketball style), and so this is what shook out.

I don’t know if I’ll do anything more with it, but I was fond of the idea–strange as it was–and what better way to express that than writing it out after a shitty day at work 😀

edit: This crossover series is now called Blitzkrieg!

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