The Green Knight, Part 4 (2015-05-10)

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The taxi which is not a taxi takes them to a tailor shop on Savile Row. The shop turns out to be a front, or rather, a cover to a secret underground tunnel which has a bullet train. She’s impressed by how unnecessarily deep the dressing room elevator goes–considering how ludicrous the Vongola mansion and the Foundation’s Namimori base are, that’s really saying something.

The bullet train brings them to what she can only describe as a giant garage filled with not only a multitude of cars, but several planes, and possibly boats. She lets the awe show on her face, spots in her peripheral vision that Galahad is smirking with good-natured pride beside her.

The Secchione Sezione specialize primarily in personal defense, gadgets more than vehicles, inventions that utilize Flames for an individual’s needs. Except for the occasional trips back to Namimori, most of the famiglia stay in Italy (vice versa for Kyouya-senpai); the aberrations to that rule are the Mist guardians (and Joshima and Kakimoto) and herself. Unsurprising, due to the shared nature of their missions.

The point, though, is that it’s not feasible to have a car, much less a plane, run on Flames. Vongola makes do with buying top of the line vehicles from whichever company Spanner disdains the least, then tweaking it slightly. They don’t have a need for a fleet of vehicles, she knows, but damn if the Kingsman garage isn’t impressive.

“Lucky for you, we ain’t late this time,” Galahad says, guiding her down a hallway, thankfully without any encroachment into her personal space.

She startles when she realizes that Arthur disappeared during her brief distraction by the garage. She hadn’t noticed at all.

Galahad politely does not comment on that, merely continues his own line of thought, “For me, my proposer ended up leavin’ a lot to chance, so of fucking course I was the last one in.”

“Proposer?”

“Well, yeah. Each of the current knights propose a candidate to get tested. We’re a little short on knights, though…”

Which means more spots to fill, but less recruits to choose from. The quality of knights would arguably decrease, at the very least they would be inexperienced. It’s a potential weakness, but if she learned nothing else from her teenaged years it’s that experience doesn’t always mean strength.

The lack of knights seems like a sore point, not one she should ask after. Not that she would need to, it’s obvious why so many agents would need to be replaced in such a short time. While Valentine’s Day triggered mindless aggression in most of the human population, for those whose wave energy had already been activated into Flames (which was most, if not all, of Vongola) it had just switched on their Dying Will Mode. Vongola Mansion spent their time intermittently experiencing extreme focus for no apparent reason–productivity for that day had been a record all time high. (Tsunayoshi-kun had finished enough paperwork to finally see the wood of his desk and actually burst into tears)

“Who is my proposer?” She asks instead, scolding herself for getting lost in her own thoughts.

“Technically, that would be me,” Merlin says, “Though Galahad was the one to think of it; a fine idea don’t you think, Azusa-san?”

Said knight flushes slightly at the praise.

She nods, she’s certainly grateful–because the alternative was to face abject boredom. That would be crass to admit, though, so instead she responds with, “Yes, Tempesta was honored to receive the invitation…”

So it’s a bit of an exaggeration for Hayato-kun. While not honored, he did see it as a good opportunity and was glad that she had agreed to it. As they measured her abilities through the trials, she could see what a Kingsman recruit went through to become a knight.

She herself would be a test in response.

~

A/N: Okay… so, because I’m terribly cliche, I’m thinking of calling this series The Green Knight and having the Kingsman position in question be for Gawain. Because… Lightning flames are greeeeeeeen. And she’s definitely not going to be a Kingsman agent so… mreh?

Ugh, I’m sorry this was greatly uninspired over all.

Continuation of this post. Will now tag everything in this series as The Green Knight. I apologize in advance for dirtying the tag, actual Arthurian fans 😦

The Green Knight, Part 3; Word Prompts (S31): Shaky

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She hopes Hayato-kun didn’t have high expectations of her somehow charming the Kingsman, because that is just not happening. From the moment she steps off the Vongola private jet, she knows that she is not matching their imqge of her from the first meeting, much less the appearance of a prestigious Vongola guardian. She knows that she looks more like a trendy, spoiled college student than the strongest mafia famiglia’s top assassin.

She’s wearing her casual, comfortable clothes–cotton shirt, skirt, and thin jacket–which matches her preference of pastel colors and muted, but cheerful patterns. Of course, she’s also wearing her armor–she doesn’t travel anywhere without it–but it looks enough like a really shiny unitard that it really does need to be covered with other clothes.

Arthur and Galahad meet her with a taxi cab which is definitely not standard fair. She supposes she should feel honored–that the head of the Kingsman personally came to pick her up and that they respect her lethality by sending another agent along with him–but she just feels awkward. They are both wearing extensively fancy, tailored suits; she feels distinctly underdressed. The small talk peters out when she refuses the offer of alcohol (she was never much of a fan of the taste, and Shamal “infected” all of them with an anti-poison “disease” which basically made them immune to the effects) and when she struggles with the small talk (she loathes it, and she’s not very good at English anyway).

They sit in silence. She hopes Kyoko is not watching the video feed–she would be greatly disappointed.

She fiddles with the hem of her skirt. Twists her hideous Vongola ring around her finger. Softly taps the toes of her fashionable (according to Haru), practical (according to Shouichi-kun) boots. Almost reaches for the necklace which contains Yuzuru, falters when she remembers that spilling the secret of Flames out of boredom would definitely piss off Hayato-kun, then put her hands back in her lap.

“The test ain’t nothing to worry about,” Galahad breaks the silence, a friendly smile on his face.

It must signal something to his partner, because Arthur’s stoic face softens into one of almost paternal kindness, “Indeed, Ms. Fulmine, while the Kingsman trials are indeed fraught with danger, we are not in the business of killing our allies. We appreciate this show of good will from Vongola, and your own personal sacrifice in this. We are not ungracious.”

She realizes, then, what she must look like to them. She thought they perceived her as a disrespectful, informal, unprofessional mafiosa. Dangerous and high in the Vongola hierarchy, but a poor diplomat for a rather precarious alliance. But they looked at her–saw her youth, her nationality, her unsophisticated clothes, her refusal of a drink, her fidgeting. They thought she was nervous.

She could use that.

So she responds with a shaky smile, stops her tapping feet but keeps twisting her ring. It’s enough to make it seem like she’s relieved by the words, but not too much so as to be suspicious. She is, after all, a stranger in a strange land.

“Do you have a preference for your name?” Arthur asks, pulling an iPad out from a panel in the door. On the screen is what appears to be her Kingsman file (likely they have more on her than that) which includes basic information –sex, estimation of her age, eye color (which she smugly notices they’ve incorrectly listed as brown)–and a list of dates for when she was on mission within the United Kingdom. Oddly enough, however, where should be a name is instead a blank.

“What do you mean?” She says in honest confusion.

“To put it mildly, you don’t match our usual demographic of recruit–”

At this, Galahad snorts, but says nothing.

“–and while we know you as Vongola’s Fulmine, we thought you might want to keep that part of your identity private from the other recruits. It is, of course, your choice,” Arthur says mildly before handing the iPad over to her.

It is an obvious ploy to get her to provide her real name, but the overtness takes the malice out of it. If she does so, and they already have it, then it is just a minor show of trust on her part. If she does so, and they don’t already know it, then she provides them not only her history but every Namimori-born member of Vongola. In the upper echelons alone that is four Guardians, three department heads, one deputy department head, and her boss. That’s not just her–that’s Ryohei, Kyouya-senpai, Takeshi-kun, Haru, Shouichi-kun, Hana-chan, Kyoko, and Tsunayoshi-kun. That’s her family.

Not giving her real name is the obvious choice. While it might be slightly insulting and a sign of distrust, if anything it could just be passed off as part of her trepidation.

“Azuma Shu,” she says while typing. She’s pleasantly surprised that the romaji she enters offers a menu of matching kanji to choose from. It’s the name on her passport, on the rare occasions when Vongola bothers with identification. Perhaps the pseudonym is a little bit too on the nose, but it’s technically true. It is very short, only two characters long: the kanji for lightning as a given name then protector for a surname.

“It’s nice to meet you, Azuma-san,” Galahad says with a wink, not at all displeased by her noncooperation.

Slightly flustered, she does not reprimand him for the cultural impropriety of using her supposed personal name.

~

A/N: Do not worry! There is no romance. I just imagine that anyone, especially ones even vaguely attracted to people of the masculine persuasion, would be taken by Taron Egerton’s winking.

AAAAAAND still not at the actual trials yet.

Continuation of this post. I should probably come up with a title for this crossover for tracking purposes…

Edit: Just follow “The Green Knight” for the rest of the series… though for some reason, this post doesn’t show up as tagged with it even though… it obviously is. (Edit2: fixed the not-showing-up-thing by removing the names of characters mentioned but not actually present in this drabble)

Untitled (2015-05-08)

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Harry wakes up. Of course he does. If he didn’t, there wouldn’t be much of a story, now would there? Although, strictly speaking, it would be more accurate to say that Harry wakes up three times.

The first time is little more than his eyes blinking open for a few seconds, becoming aware of the beeping heart monitor and the blandness of his surroundings. He loses consciousness with knowledge that he is alive and in a hospital. It’s enough to give him a vague sense of hope.

The second time: he tries to breath on his own, chokes around the intubation, startles the nurse, and slips into unconsciousness before he can do much else.

The third time he wakes up properly. He also startles the nurse again. He then spends fifteen minutes sullenly sucking on ice chips while a tiny doctor scolds him. It’s not necessarily a pleasant experience, but it is very informative. He knows that following: along with a gunshot wound to the head, he had three broken ribs, major kidney damage, two stab wounds in thankfully non-vital body parts, and an entire tapestry of bruises. He is the only survivor of the Westboro church massacre.

He learns a lot of things over the next few days, but not much of it particularly helpful or comforting.

From the tiny television in the corner of his hospital room he learns that there had been a similarly strange sort of massacre on an international scale. But from the clipboard at the foot of his bed he knows that he was admitted the day before. From the John Doe filled in for name section, he didn’t have any sort of identification on him.

When he apologizes to the nurse for startling her–not just once, but twice–he learns that he speaks with an English accent. He is apparently apologetic or charming enough that she forgives him near-instantly, and brings him his things. Of which includes a broken pair of non-prescription glasses, an incredibly fancy suit, a gold-plated lighter but no cigarettes, and a fountain pen. Still no identification.

From his tiny, angry doctor he learns that the local police department were hit especially hard during the Valentine’s Day massacre. Nonetheless, there is always at least one guard–not always in uniform–sitting in the ICU waiting room, in sight of his room.

This is what he knows: He is the only survivor of the Westboro Church massacre. That, in itself, was the precursor for the Valentine’s Day massacre. He does not match any of the parishioners. He is the unknown subject of an active investigation to what could be the key to figuring out what exactly happened to make the world go homicidally insane.

His name is Harry.

He thinks he might have killed everyone in that church.

~

A/N: So I didn’t actually get to the part that I wanted to get to which is– Harry, amnesiatic criminal with a h(e)art of gold. Okay, let me explain: I’m listening to slashreport (the podcast by rageprufrock and mklutz) and there was a fic rec for a due South fic called Chicago’s Most Wanted by Speranza.

To start–I’m not in that fandom and I actually had this idea before I read the fic, solely from rageprufrock’s description of the fic. It was something along the lines of… Fraser gets amnesia and somehow comes to the conclusion that he’s a criminal mastermind. So he becomes a really fantastic, “hyper-competent” criminal and Ray Kowalski is trying to arrest him without hurting him because… well. It’s the pairing so I guess out of love.

And then I thought: Well, duh. I would like to see a Kingsman version of this.

But not like one of the lovely dark!Harry ideas I’ve read. Which, those are great, but they’re called dark!Harry for a reason. I want one in which… Harry is still a good guy but he’s a criminal. I mean, arguably, all of the Kingsman knights, being a vigilante group and all “not beholden to governments/laws,” are criminals. But I mean… I really would like for him to be still a gentleman and still a good, noble person. Of course he’s still ruthless, but it’s not unnecessary or over the top. Like more of a Leverage type of criminal than “dark.”

What I wrote isn’t necessarily the fic I want to read, but it’s the best way I could articulate myself. So it’s slightly fourth-wall breaking because parts of it is more outlining than actual prose. Also I wasn’t sure I could walk that edge between ruthless but criminal with a heart of gold… Not that I even got to that point. I guess what I wrote was the prequel to the fic I want to read…

… Aaaaaand my author’s notes are longer than the drabble. Ugh. Also, I don’t remember what the church was actually called. This was sloppy all around, I apologize.

Trailblazers drabble (2015-05-07)

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When Tsunayoshi-kun (then, still Sawada-kun to her) finally, officially, and completely gains control of the famiglia he does what he had been vowing to do ever since he passed the boss trial. He destroys Vongola.

Of course, not quite in the way anyone had expected. Mukuro (then, and to this day, that bastard) was greatly disappointed. Barring Hayato-kun, who maintained that Tsunayoshi-kun could do no wrong, the rest of the tenth generation guardians didn’t fully understand how revolutionary Vongola’s Decimo truly was in the world of mafia.

She must admit, in the beginning, she had thought that he wouldn’t stick by his vow. She thought he had picked up where Nono had left off–increasing Vongola’s power through crime. She thought he was just perpetuating Reborn’s “might is right” philosophy, which had always made her hate him from the beginning.

Her doubts weren’t entirely unfounded: in the first three years of official Vongola Lightning Guardian tenure she went on over fifty assassination missions. She did them, of course, and she won’t deny that she was glad to have done them considering the total scumbags that she ended up killing. But it was disheartening; she had expected it, to be honest, but it was still disappointing.

Unlike Ryohei, she had walked into the role of Vongola Guardian with her eyes open. She knew that fighting that stupid ring battle was just the beginning of a slippery slope towards more violence, towards death. She had hoped it would be different, but she expected that her kouhai’s well-intentions would inevitably be suppressed under centuries of crime and sins.

It really had seemed that way in the beginning.

But a pattern began to emerge: missions were handed out with specific consequences in mind, there were more negotiations with certain famiglias, and less cooperation and tolerance for others. It was difficult for her to see, considering her specialty, but as her duties lessened she had the time and space to step back. To widen her perspective and see what was going on.

Tsunayoshi-kun’s… Vongola Decimo’s reign is the beginning of the end for the Vongola Famiglia of organized crime. It is the end for all mafia famiglia’s organized crime.

But she doesn’t really notice it until one day, three years in, Kyoko asks her to train the recruits.

“Doesn’t Yamamoto-kun do that?” She responds, because she and Takeshi-kun never particularly got along, especially not in the early days, and she tried to minimize tension by eschewing any opportunities of stepping on his toes. So to speak.

“Yes, yes, he’s very good at the more… permanent disarming,” Kyoko always did have a way with words, “But I don’t want my doctors to nearly kill their unruly patients to make treatment easier.”

“Your doctors?” She parrots, more confused rather than less.

“Well, I suppose technically they’re Shamal’s. But as if he can be pried away from his latest experimental disease, so all of the recruits really ought to be mine,” Kyoko says primly.

“What? Why do we need so many doctors and why do I need to train them?” Her observation and deductive skills really were much better when on assignment.

Kyoko just sighs, as if she were being difficult on purpose.

“I was in Scotland for the past month, I honestly don’t know what’s going on!” And the six weeks before that, Canada… which followed a week in Namimori. And that itself was a break after two months of tense and angry negotiations with the Orecchia famiglia culminating in absolutely nothing productive and her having to kill the entire negotiating party when they tried to, instead, torture the secrets of Vongola’s great and terrible power (their words) out of her. So no, at that point in time, she could safely say that she had no idea what Vongola would be doing with so many doctors.

“Shamal and I have been training Vongola doctors for the past eight months,” She says patiently, “I suppose I can’t fault you entirely for not knowing considering…” The deadly nature of her job, in direct contrast to Kyoko’s job of a distinctly opposite nature, “But it really is a better use for our resources. Having more doctors will improve the overall health of Italy, which will in turn improve the way of life. Oh, Hana-chan has the whole spiel, but it’s really in line with the direction Tsuna’s been going for Vongola.”

She’s about to argue, because she didn’t even know Tsunayoshi-kun was steering Vongola in a specific direction (much less one that Kyoko could sound so honestly excited and approving of) but she pauses. And thinks.

Because her time in Scotland, while ending in murder as usual, was aimed specifically at one of the Orecchia famiglia’s warehouses which they used to store, amongst various other contraband, cocaine. And the mission in Canada before that was to find and dismantle (permanently) the Orecchia famiglia’s human trafficking ring.

Like she said, a lot of her missions were ones she did with a song in her heart (all of those bastards deserved to die) but she had always thought it was more… self-servingly motivated than improving the way of life of Italy. She flushes with shame of having doubted Tsunayoshi-kun so much.

Kyoko, having known her for almost the full length of her life, probably knows what she’s thinking and yet stays silent.

“So… why me?” Because she’s the worst choice to train a bunch of healers how to save a life instead of… the opposite.

“Because,” Kyoko, still following the train of her thoughts, smiles soothingly and a little sadly, “I trust you, Nee-chan. You’re the one who taught me how to protect myself, in a way that wouldn’t hurt others.”

“That’s just aikido. You could teach them that easily. It’s been…” (a fucking long time,) “… a while since I’ve used aikido.”

Kyoko’s smile turns that little bit sadder, but instead of hashing out her honorary big sister’s serious damage in the middle of the hallway, she hooks their arms together and leads the two of them towards the laboratories, “Let’s discuss it some more over some cake. Lambo-kun brought back the most delicious raspberry chocolate cake, and Haru-chan and I have been eager to try it. Let’s see if we can’t pry her away from her latest inventions.”

“Girl time?” She quirks a brow.

“Yes!” Kyoko agrees, “It’ll be just like middle school.”

~

A/N: A tangential thought from the day before yesterday’s Traiblazer (x Kingsman crossover) drabble regarding the throw-away comment about Shamal’s subordinates being Kyoko’s minions and why a mafia family would even need more than two doctors much less actively recruiting doctors, especially combat ready ones. It was percolating in my head and I don’t think I did it justice, but… eh.

Also… this went a little more off-track than I thought it would. Like it was honestly supposed to be about training an army of doctors and the whole pseudo-political ramifications of Vongola becoming both legitimate and even more powerful by having a Vongola doctor all over Italy. Because hospitals are the absolute last thing sane people would attack, and by filling the hospitals with Vongola doctors Tsuna would have essentially made Vongola immune. While this has Tsuna’s intentions all over it, the actual formation of the idea probably involved Kyoko and Hana interrogating him on what he was doing with their resources and stuff.

If you’re confused… well, try checking out my Traiblazers tag for some context. Though I’m not really writing in any cohesive order so… good luck.

Edit: Direct sequel here.

The Green Knight, Part 2 (2015-05-06)

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In the three days counting down before she’s due in the United Kingdom, her friends begin crawling out of the woodwork. They want to speak to her, give her tips, give her more gadgets, get in some last minute sparring. Tsunayoshi-kun earnestly assures her that she doesn’t have to go, but he appreciates her willingness in improving alliance relations. Kyoko ever so politely requests a full-blown medical before she goes, monitoring her health with her newest legion of Vongola medics. The Secchione Sezione (“R&D! Italian isn’t even your native language!”), once they’ve let go of their grudge, ply her with the newest version of contact lenses, armor, and a less bulky container to store Yuzuru.

Even Kyouya-senpai deigns to visit the Vongola mansion and demand a fight before jetting back to Namimori. Truth be told, she would have preferred to see her fiancé one last time instead, but her and Tetsuya’s engagement has always been one of distance and enduring love. She handles her disappointment with grace.

Ryohei, perhaps getting back at all the times she’s teased him about dating Hana, sends Tetsuya several pictures of her pouting. He sends back a short video of him blowing a kiss–or at least he tries to, his pompadour makes selfies difficult–nonetheless it makes her laugh.

The evening before her flight she asks Spanner, regarding the contact lenses, “How strong is the video feed?”

Haru despairs of her insistence on brown lenses (“Why not green, to match your Flames?”), comprehending but not agreeing with why she would cover her pale grey eyes with such a normal color. Shouichi-kun still tends to develop stomach cramps if she hangs around for too long–a remnant from a mission for which he was her handler that neither of them will comment on. So Spanner, apathetic to the core, is the one that gets to field her questions.

“Pretty strong,” He answers noncommittally, before guessing where she’s trying to go with her question, “We have a few relays set up around Europe, so as long as they don’t whisk you away to a different continent we should be able to receive it here. And, as long as you’re powering it with Flames it’ll last you for months.”

The length of the Kingsman trials… provided she gets to the final round, of course.

“We’ll set your feed up on one of the 24-hour monitors,” He continues, his blasé tone contradicting his words.  

It’s a huge relief; something she didn’t really know she was worried about until he said it. She’s a little touched, too. Vongola only has three 24-hour monitors, manned constantly by rotating teams of handlers and on-call reinforcements. One of them is devoted solely to Tsunayoshi-kun (which used to get him flustered but, by this point, he’s become desensitized to his lack of privacy). The other two’s usage depends on what missions are out there, the more vital or dangerous ones taking precedence. The Kingsman trials are practically a training exercise with their allies, so she’s a little embarrassed that she had any concerns. Much less concerns so overt that her family are pulling out all the stops to reassure her.

“Thanks,” She says honestly, any doubts and hesitation gone. She’s a guardian of the Vongola Famiglia–and her family has her back.

~

A/N: HOW HAVE I STILL NOT GOTTEN TO THE RIGHT COUNTRY YET, MUCH LESS THE ACTUAL TESTS. OH MY GOD.

This is a direct continuation of this post (which is, in and of itself, a distant sequel to this post).

The Green Knight, Part 1 (2015-05-05)

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The thing about being a mafia assassin is that, once said mafia famiglia stops being a crime organization and starts being a vigilante group, the need for assassinations decreases significantly. She isn’t exactly out of a job, because technically she’s a Guardian, not just any run-of-the-mill assassin (though it could be argued that any assassin isn’t run-of-the-mill, much less one from Vongola, much less one of the Decimo’s guardians), but she does end up having a lot more free time on her hands.

It’s gotten to the point where even the Secchione Sezione (“We are R&D!”) are getting sick of her hanging around and offering to test out their latest and greatest gadgets. She’s also careful not to push too much of her luck with the Foundation. Though the members remain rather fond of her, Kyouya-senpai is still disdainful of any crowding.

She sighs gustily, sprawled out on Hayato-kun’s office sofa which is positioned so perfectly in sunbeam. Uri who, unsurprisingly, tolerates her more than he does his master, is similarly sprawled over the back of the sofa. Yuzuru, her own box weapon familiar, is coiled up in his smaller form on her stomach. At the ensuing silence, she sighs again. The figure at the desk twitches but says nothing.

“Don’t make me do it again,” She warns lazily, fingers tracing along Yuzuru’s smooth, scaly body. He reciprocates by flicking his tongue  along her wrist in a friendly manner.

“Tch, just because you don’t have any work doesn’t mean the rest of us are similarly blessed,” Hayato-kun half-heartedly grumbles, typing continuously.

“Surely there must be something I can do? I’m beginning to become superfluous. You’re going to have an excess of bored Lightning natureds if this keeps up,” She thinks about Lambo-kun who, though much better than he was seven years ago when they first met, is still a force of mayhem. While she’s not quite at that level, she’ll admit to having some destructive tendencies of her own.

Whether he’s thinking the same thing or not, it makes Hayato-kun pause, shudder, and finally look in her direction, “Haru and Spanner are being productive,” Technically, Haru and Spanner are both dual natured Lightning and Storm. But she gets what he’s trying to say.

“But they’ve always been part of Secchione Sezione–”

“–They prefer to be called R&D–”

“And plus, I’ve already been by to see if they’d like my help. And they just turned me away,” She sighs once more, lolling her head around the sofa. It’s a very nice sofa.

“Well if you’re that bored…” Hayato-kun begins, turning back to his screen and sending a file to her contact lenses. As computers, the contact lenses have minimal memory, more suited to operating the aiming system and relaying video feed to the Vongola network. But within the vicinity of said network, it can be used to share small files for convenience. Or out of laziness.

“The Kingsman?” She wouldn’t say their meeting with the Kingsman was a disaster, necessarily. It had certainly gone better than what she had either hoped or expected. But she was sure they were at the level of civility and courtesy rather than beginning to swap favors. Even though the file–more a missive, really, from the one they called Merlin–is entirely in English, her fourth language of fluency, she thinks she gets the gist of it, “Why do they want one of us to take their tests? Surely they know Vongola is going to take priority over anything from them,”

“It makes sense,” Hayato-kun argues with a shrug, “They don’t actually want us to be one of their agents, they want to see what our abilities are. Seeing how far a member of Vongola, Guardian or not, can get through their tests gives them a good approximation of our relative strength.”

It’s when Hayato-kun talks like this, frankly and freely, that makes her realize how much all of them have grown. Six years ago he would have been crowing about how any Vongola member would breeze through such a test; as if being part of Vongola, being part of Tsunayoshi-kun’s famiglia, somehow made a person invincible by proxy. And while the Hayato-kun of six years ago (then still Gokudera-kun) had been willing to speak of his own personal insecurities to her, he would have rather cut out his own tongue than say anything negative of Tsunayoshi-kun (then still Sawada-kun) or his inheritance.

“Ah, is that so?” She demurs, briefly, “What were you thinking of doing with the…” She pauses, unsure of how to phrase it, “… invite?”

“To be honest, I was going to refuse it. I considered sending one of the more combat focused of Shamal’s subordinates–”

“–Kyoko’s minions–”

“But better to not send anyone than give a poor showing. Or worse, reveal Flames to them. The alliance we have with them is still precarious, we don’t want to give them more than we need to,” He continues, disregarding her interjection.

“It’s for several months though, why not send Mukuro or Chrome? They haven’t been as active recently either,”

Hayato-kun looks at her flatly, almost edging towards disbelief, “Because the alliance we have with them is still precarious,” he repeats, “And we do actually want them to trust us.”

Considering how the Mist guardians’ missions usually end up… yeah. She sees his point.

“Does that mean you trust me?” She smiles teasingly.

“I trust you not to fuck up,” He bites back, though a hint of a blush creeps along his face, “And you’re bored. Prendere due piccioni con una fava,”

“If you say so,” She agrees mildly. Which only causes him to blush more.

“I’ll send a confirmation and have the details sent to you. Now get out of my office!”

Oh, Hayato-kun, still so easily flustered. But she decides not to push him, because he did just give her a reprieve from boredom. So she leaves, gently draping Yuzuru over one shoulder, from which he settles himself around her neck with familiarity. For his sake, she tries not have too much bounce in her step; but she can’t help it–she’s excited.

~

A/N: BECAUSE THIS WOULDN’T LEAVE MY HEAD AND IT WAS BUGGING ME AND I WOULD LIKE TO DO SOMETHING ELSE THAT ISN’T SO PAINFULLY DERIVATIVE. AND I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO THE ACTUAL PARTS THAT WERE BUGGING ME. So… I guess expect future installments of this. This post is itself kind of a continuation to this post.

For context: POV character is my OC Lightning Guardian, Tetsuki Kaiza from Trailblazers, a KHR fic I’m maybe not actually writing. She’s a year older than Tsuna/Gokudera/Yamamoto/etc, the same age as Ryohei, and a year younger than Hibari.

Also, “Secchione Sezione” means Nerd Department/Section. The two words sound remarkably similar to me–though I don’t actually speak Italian–so I thought it’d be a teasing/informal way to call Vongola’s R&D. And “Prendere due piccioni con una fava” means “To catch two pigeons with one fava bean,” which is basically the Italian equivalent of “Kill two birds with one stone.”

Into Thin Air (2015-05-04)

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Windy’s seventh training mission in Midgar coincides with hir first time meeting Don Corneo. It’s part of the reason why Cloud will end up needing to cross-dress in the future. Zie will never tell him.

The mission didn’t actually involve Don Corneo, that’s just the way it turned out. It didn’t need Windy to assume an identity either, but it was one of the things which had appealed to the Turks for her recruitment. Which was why, for that mission, Windy was going by the name Wayne.

The mission started simple–establish a contact in the Honey Bee Inn–but in the way that, apparently, both Strife twins’ lives worked even minor tasks were needlessly complicated. Most of the brothel girls were very kind, but sex workers don’t give favors out for free.

Thankfully, Wayne was a very accommodating young man, whose open country-boy face prompted people to be generous in turn. And so the girls would ask him to complete little tasks in exchange for information. A delivery here, a purchase there–little things which sent Wayne running throughout the different sectors.

It was easy work, nothing which required him to break character, and it helped Windy form a mental map of the slums. Being from Nibelheim was a disadvantage when so much of ShinRa’s activities were in cities. She had a lot of catching up to do.

Though undemanding, Windy’s seventh mission was tedious, and ended up taking almost two weeks. While Turk training missions didn’t necessarily have a deadline, surely hir speed, or lack thereof, was a poor showing for a Turk recruit. Zie needed to step up hir game. Wayne needed to meet the Inn’s Madame; he needed to meet the Queen.

~

A/N: … I was going to continue… basically, the Queen would give Windy/Wayne an “impossible” task aka something to do with Don Corneo. Which Windy would complete, and which would make the Queen hir contact.

And which ends up impressing the Turk recruiters, etc. etc. The reason why Cloud can’t be a guy around Don Corneo (besides the whole… only women allowed thing) is because he’ll look too much like a younger Windy cross-dressing as Wayne (Windy was taller/bigger than Cloud). Whom Don Corneo has a grudge against.

Untitled (2015-05-03)

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The second time Joy meets Alvin, she can’t decide whether or not it’s a terrible nightmare or an elaborate ruse. Considering he thinks it’s the first time they’ve met, when in fact the first time they met he was trying to arrest her for stealing over twenty thousand dollars worth of jewelry while they were both using their alter egos, her reservation is valid. Silverfang and his vigilante friends failed in catching Jaguar that night, but that doesn’t mean Joy Guerrero has necessarily gotten off scott free.

Fortunately and yet, somehow simultaneously, unfortunately, her younger brother really is dating Alvin Chand. Which means that although she isn’t going to be arrested belatedly for her crimes, her personal and professional lives are going to intersect in rather uncomfortable ways.

“Joy,” Simon says, smiling, unaware of the inner turmoil he is causing in his older sister, “This is my boyfriend, Alvin.” Which is obvious, from the way their arms are threaded together like out of a period drama.

Alvin looks at her nervously, the same way any teenaged boy meeting his boyfriend’s family for the first time would look. Not like a vigilante trying to suss out if said family is a wanted burglar.

“It’s nice to meet you, Alvin,” She lies through her teeth, extending a hand for him to shake. And if her grip is particularly tight, then it’s just an older sister’s prerogative. She raised Simon herself, she’s allowed to be protective.

“Likewise,” Alvin responds, wincing slightly. More from a message received than from actual pain–Silverfang has super strength, Jaguar does not.

“Joy!” Simon scolds, knowing her too well, though secretly pleased enough not to do much else, “Let’s sit already,” he continues, leading the two of them to one of four table in the unimaginatively, but aptly, named Baker & Son’s Bakery and Cafe.

Mostly, the Guerrero siblings just call it the Bakery. In part, because the entire name is ridiculously redundant sounding, but also because the two of them have lived in one of the apartments in the upper floors since they were children. The Bakers are practically family.

As soon as they all sit, Aaron, the latest generation of Baker, eagerly makes his way over to them with a pad of paper and a bright purple crayon. He is four years old and his tiny apron has little cartoons of smiling cats. As it should, since Joy was the one to buy it for him as a birthday gift.

“Ms. Joy,” He beams up at her, delight obvious on his adorable face. His greeting for Simon is only slightly less bright, “Mr. Simon,” And his smile drops completely when he eyes at the third member of their party suspiciously, “Who are you?” Aaron pouts, though he’s likely aiming for a scowl.

Aaron’s father, observing from behind the counter, stifles a laugh.

“This is Alvin, my boyfriend,” Simon explains, which prompts said boyfriend to wave slightly with a slightly sheepish smile.

Aaron looks extremely skeptical, but quickly dismisses him to gaze adoringly at Joy instead.

“Are you our waiter today?” Joy asks, extremely amused by this entire exchange.

“Yes!” He chirps, pride evident on his cubbish face, “Daddy says I’m a good em-ploy-ee,” sounding out each syllable carefully.

“I’m sure you’re a big help,” She assures, Simon and even Alvin, grudgingly, making noises of agreements. Aaron’s smile really could not get any wider.

“I think I’ll have one hot chocolate and a… hm, what’s your favorite kind of muffin, Aaron?”

“Blueberry!”

“Then I’ll have one of those,” Joy responds, smile curling as Aaron’s purple crayon draws random scribbles on the notepad. Behind him, his father waves a hand in acknowledgement of the order.

“Ooh, me too. Except instead of a muffin I’d like two chocolate chip cookies, please.” Simon adds, before nudging his boyfriend’s shoulder, “What about you Alvin?”

~

A/N: This drifted away from me very quickly. Like… this is what happens when I don’t outline shit, it just goes off on a tangent and so long, goodbye, thanks for all the fish.

Untitled (2015-05-02)

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On Friday, Alex wears a white sundress to work. It’s an almost ludicrously gorgeous look. The dress is elegantly simple and highlights all of Alex’s best features: smooth dark skin, tapered waist, willowy limbs. He looks stunning. It makes Sam fall even more in love, which is impressive considering how embarrassingly in love zie was to begin with.

“I love casual Fridays,” Zie breathes out, catching it before it can become a full lovelorn sigh, for which hir station-mate charges hir a dollar. There is a jar full of ones and a fiver in the murky, disputed territory between the desks of their station. Neither of them want to claim it, because that means one of them would have to clean it.

Lee eyes hir suspiciously, before shrugging, letting the almost-transgression go, and turning back to her screen. Sam’s pretty sure she’s playing Minesweeper on her computer and just has consistently convenient timing on when to switch windows whenever their floor supervisor walks by. It’s tricks like those which make Lee the unofficial guru of their floor, and which ensures she always had food during lunch breaks even without her spending or preparing anything.

It’s rather unfortunate that Sam’s unrepentant crush on Alex had to increase today. Because while some of hir coworkers–such as Alex, and Lee in her own effortlessly fashionable high waisted jeans and floral blouse–decided to interpret casual in one way, Sam interpreted it in another. Hir sweats and ratty t-shirt seemed like a good idea at the time. By which zie means: zie had slept in and nearly been late, remembered it was casual Friday, and decided to wear hir pajamas to work.

Sam sighs.

“That’s a dollar,” Lee intones without looking away from her computer, mouse clicking away furiously. There’s no way she’s actually doing anything productive.

“That wasn’t because of him. That was because of my poor life choices!” Zie protests, rather loudly, causing everyone on their floor, including their supervisor and, oh god, Alex, to look bewildered in hir direction.

Despite Lee’s attempt to appear unfazed, Sam can see the dimple in her cheek which gives away her habit of biting her lip to prevent a smile. Sam does what any person would in the face of public embarrassment, and curls up to hide hir face from hir crush. And possibly slumps out of hir chair and onto the ground. While it doesn’t exactly cause the earth to swallow hir whole, their coworkers are mostly indifferent or desensitized to Sam’s ridiculousness, and so their attention fades away.

~

A/N: I didn’t know how to end it, or even where I wanted this to go, but I quite like it anyhow.

Word Prompts (N16): Numbers

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This exam is a farce. She knows it, Anko-senpai knows it, even the Hokage knows it. But she still has to participate anyway.

Standing amongst the other victors of the preliminaries is so strange. All of them lined up on the arena floor, as if they were all equals. As if she weren’t superior to them.

She’s proud of her chuunin rank, and it grates to be considered a talented genin instead. On the other hand, it’s ridiculously amusing that her two bunshin teammates are also standing in the line. As if they were as human as the rest.

Anko-senpai offers the box full of papers for the final tournament, a sly smile curling on her lips. Normally Tetsuki, the Tetsuki of Konoha, would make a silly face back perhaps stick out her tongue because she is a coworker and a junior and a friend; confident in her place. But here and now she is Tetsuki of Kumo, a genin from an enemy land, whose confidence would be nothing more than bravado when faced with a Konoha jounin.

So Tetsuki bares her teeth. Next to her, her bunshin teammates react accordingly. Hibari-senpai’s stoicism doesn’t waver, but Ryohei’s smile edges just that little bit towards manic.

The papers are altered tags which can change their content however it pleases the holder of the box. In this case, Anko-senpai.

Tetsuki of Konoha trusts her. Anko-senpai wouldn’t make her suffer through this cover for an additional month if it weren’t for a good reason.

But the Tetsuki of Kumo doesn’t know that. She looks at the numbers, at the match-ups, and sees how her two teammates are paired off against each other. All the better to reduce Kumo’s odds of promotion, no doubt. Tetsuki of Konoha knows that it’s really to keep her bunshin’s strength in reserve, but that is not her right now. And so she can only glare balefully at the Konoha jounin around her. Can only turn away from the Konoha genin, especially the one that looks too chillingly like the nightmare fodder of Yellow Flash, and walk away.

~

A/N: I DID NOT KNOW I WAS PAST MIDNIGHT. HAVE THIS TINY-ASS DRABBLE OF EXTERNALITY. And, remember, kids, Externality is a SI!OC from my KHR fic Trailblazers reincarnated into the Naruto universe.