Gotta respect that clan iconography đ
I did originally posit Butterfree instead of Beautifly, though, because I have a soft spot for the classics and also I was concerned about Wurmpleâs whole⊠âit might turn into a Beautifly but it might turn into a Dustox insteadâ and thereâs no real way to control that on a massive scale which the Akimichi would want to since the Butterfree is their clan Pokemon.
Just got home from traveling, anon, so I appreciate this ask as a quick post for today. Also, thank you! Iâm oddly proud of the DoS Pokemon âverse even if itâs mostly ranting and brainstorms.
Team Eight I have some ideas for, but not as concrete as Team Seven or Team Ten (given the âscreen timeâ for those two teams are way more than the others) so the following are pretty quick and less specific than those ones⊠[[will maybe add more detailed reasoning later?]]
Kirlia (to become a Gardevoirâthe Hyuuga clan Pokemon are Ralts and are generally trained towards becoming Gallade)
Whismur
Buneary
Litleo
Audino
Togepi
–
Ninjask (and Shedinja)
Pinsir
Volbeat
Kricketune
Scyther
Heracross
–
Lycanroc (as Akamaru, particularly Midnight Form as the equivalent of when he eats soldier pills)
⊠but after that I donât really know since I gave Kakashi the all dog teamâŠÂ I guess if I could break down Kiba and Akamaruâs attacks/abilities into Pokemon equivalents?Â
Family means a lot to you, obviously, you wouldn’t be doing this if they weren’t, but that speaks more of obligation than your actual feelings.
When you were younger, you didn’t talk much. You were shy, even with your cousins–loud and boisterous and used to playing and fighting and play-fighting with each other–and preferred to trail after your uncle as he gardened, holding trowels or empty flower pots, and nodding as he explained what each plant was called and how to care for it.
Most of that went in one ear and out the other, your lack of green thumb a characteristic and no longer a disappointment, but they were good memories.
Useful in their own way.
///
When you open your eyes again, heavy but thankfully not desperately dry, you wonder for a moment if you’re seeing things.
On your windshield, delicate and patient, is a black butterfly. Frankly, you are surprised you can see it–if it is real, that is–in the dark even the woods outside are mostly a blur of imagined shapes.
Small and alone, wings flapping in a sedate rhythm, the butterfly flutters away.
You don’t know yet that this is a sign.
///
During one such gardening occasion, you were wearing your shirt inside out.
A small detail, not particularly noteworthy–even now you don’t care for the scratch of tags against the back of your neck, when your appearance is less important than comfort you still do the same–except that your uncle remarked on it:
“That’s good,” he had said, tugging on the tag, “this way you won’t get lost.”
At your look of confusion, he had explained that it was a saying: when a person is lost, they should turn their shirt inside out.
Hours later, you were still baffled. It wasn’t as if your address was on your tag, how could an inside out shirt save you from being lost?
Ingeniously, you remembered that your uncle had been part of the military; sometimes maps would be sewn on the inner lining of jackets. For a while, you considered the mystery solved.
Ingenious does not mean correct: you were missing the necessary context.
///
Up in the mountains where the air is thin and ground unsteady, it’s easy to fall. Short of breath, unsteady footing–sometimes people just don’t come back from a climb.
Sometimes people are disrespectful, loud and polluting. Sometimes mountains fight back.
And if they do, well, whose fault is it if the mountains win?
In this episode we talk about the mountains’ guardians: the tikbalang, a humanoid horse trickster with a bone to pick with trespassers and the ability to back it up.
Are you brave enough to travel into their kingdom and, more importantly, are you clever enough to escape?
This is Heritage Horrors!
~
A/N: Probably won’t be turning this into a script (or at least, not for the event I had thought I might) but I liked the idea too much to just leave it languishing.
MY SISTER IS OFFICIALLY MARRIED!!!!
(Also, my feet hurt terribly)
Dearest readers, this weekend is going to be crazy, emotionally fraught, and full of more DIY wedding decorations than my poor weak thumbs can take.
Maybe I’ll post some pictures?
Hibari’s report–if such a brief statement can be considered such–is punctual but useless. As per usual.
“The herbivores tried to fight back. They were bitten to death.”
Of the three Guardians he sent on the mission, Tetsuki-senpai is the most professional. Normally, she can be depended on for a comprehensive report.
Obviously, that is not the case.
Tsuna wrinkles his nose at the thought. It sounds so detached, so very much like a mafia boss and not the head of a Family. There is a difference, one he strives to stay on the correct side of.
He is worried about Tetsuki-senpai, of course, something is clearly wrong–but it is not his place to stand outside her door, cajoling.
He sent her on that mission. He is responsible for her pain.
///
There is creature comfort in staying curled under the covers in the dark. Wallowing.
It’s not really healing so much as pressing against her wounds and letting the muffled pain echo back at her.
But for now she allows herself this.
Well. Her conscious does.
Her subconscious, not so much.
Komadori enters, unhindered by the barrier because he is, in truth, only a part of her. Still he carries a tray of food and switches on the lamp desk.
It is not so bright–only a small radius, focused downwards instead of out–but it still sears her retinas, blinking away streaks of non-color.
“This is the reverse of what you used to do,” he admonishes lightly, helplessly. “Are you still trying to remember?”
He does not approach the bed, does not even look at it, and so she slouches from beneath the blankets towards him.
There is a small smile on his face: Komadori had always been overly indulgent of her.
“Remembering is not the problem. I have too many memories now. They want the Tetsuki from before all of this, before you and the others and everything I went through.”
“So, what, instead of remembering you’re purging?” he asks. If it were Naruto, it’d be loud, aggressive and provoking, an instinctive frustrated answer. But it’s Komadori, and so she eats and ponders and he lets her.
“Even if I could,” she begins, turning away back to bed. This admission will take more of her meager reserves than she can afford, “I wouldn’t erase what I went through. I just need… more time.”
~
A/N: My sister is getting married this weekend. Traveling tomorrow and no doubt a lot of work in the upcoming days so… posting will be sporadic at best.
She doesn’t remember what the mission had been–unsurprising given how many years-deaths-hours have passed–but she does know it was dangerous. Deadly. Terribly so.
Boss had sent his three most powerful–most lethal–Guardians on this mission, even despite the hostilities between two of them. Despite the high probability that Kyoua-senpai and fucking Mukuro would rather turn on each other than fight beside each other.
She doesn’t think she was sent as a mediating force–if so, then what a poor choice!–but rather as the only one who would survive if it came down to that.
It hadn’t, oddly enough.
But she hadn’t survived the mission, anyway.
///
When Tetsuki returns to Vongola HQ–Hibari departing for Namimori immediately and Mukuro almost literally disappearing into mist–she is quiet.
It’s not so concerning–Tetsuki isn’t one for talking, not in comparison to the Sasagawa siblings–but a week passes and no one can recall speaking to her.
This is only the beginning.
///
The problem is that she would trust any of the Guardians with her life–even Yamamoto (though, perhaps, less than fucking Mukuro as odd as that seems.)
Being Family does not mean friendship, it means blood and trust despite the lack. She can fight alongside any of her fellow Guardians without a second thought because she knows, if they can, they will fight for her life nearly as much as she will fight for theirs.
She trusts them with her life.
She doesn’t trust any of them with her death.
Kyouya-senpai is possessive, Mukuro beyond normal human mores, and at the end she had been voiceless.
She didn’t have a choice.
///
Tetsuki doesn’t open the door. Not for the Boss, not for Kyoko, not even for Ryohei.
Hayato respects her far too much to disintegrate the walls (never mind that the Vongola HQ steward would murder him if he did so) but he’s just cunning enough to slip a mobile phone into her room which rings and rings and rings with everyone trying to check on her.
She zaps it after a day.
But it works, sort of.
The door opens.
///
They mean well, of course they do. They’re just as kind as she remembered them; nostalgia and decades of distance hadn’t changed too much, it seems.
She’s not the same person she was days–lifetimes–ago.
She’s mourning.
She’s scared.
She’s furious.
She’s not ready.
///
The person–people–who leave Tetsuki’s room are not anyone Vongola has ever seen.
Their fashion is strange, their weapons stranger, and they look around HQ with curious, wondrous eyes.
They also close the door behind them and do not let anyone pass.
“She’s not ready yet,” says the blonde man with bright blue eyes. One hand scratches almost nervously at his marked cheek; the other has the fried phone.
Kyoko pockets it to hand over to Haru later–she and her engineering minions will take it as a challenge, no doubt–and decides to roll with the punches. She asks, “Do you know when she’ll be ready?”
This time, a woman with pink hair answers, stepping forward. “No, I’m sorry, but she wanted you all to know that she appreciates your concern and she’d like for us to share our knowledge. For example, I understand you’re a healer? So am I. My name is Sakura Haruno.”
///
There’s a part of her that wonders if it was all in her mind, no new scars or wrinkles on her skin, the same as she was before everything. She was so young then–this is the oldest she’s ever been–she had no idea what a lifetime really meant. What death really means.
She’s not the same person she was before.
She’s far more than that.
~
A/N: After everything, Tetsuki goes back home. But there’s consequences to that, too.
After she dies, she feels pretty embarrassed. Humbled, really, kneeling in front of the monolith that is Koenma’s desk.
To her side, a bunch of ogres wrestle a shouting, flailing demon to the floor, dog piling him into submission before dragging him away to a door she can hear vague screams from, a hint of brimstone wafting on heated air.
She kneels, patient and sheepish.
She thought she had a few more years until she died.
///
When Genkai makes a call for her apprentice, Tetsuki gets an invitation to the trials.
It’s not actually meant for her–or, at least, not specifically meant for the granddaughter of Hisae Kaiza, Genkai’s former teammate–just a general invitation sent to anyone with a certain level of spiritual ability.
Tetsuki’s spiritual ability is not the problem.
Grandmother doesn’t say anything when she receives the invitation, nor does she say anything when Tetsuki goes on the day of the trials.
It’s not a betrayal.
Tetsuki will never be Genkai’s apprentice, but that doesn’t mean she won’t have a say in who will.
///
It would be terribly convenient if the student Grandmother was looking for was Maya.
Unfortunately that is not the case.
Maya’s problem is that whenever she tries to realize or remember anything to do with the spirit world or even her own spiritual ability–which isn’t as strong as Tetsuki’s, but decent all the same–fucking Shuichi Minamino’s fucking amnesia pollen quickly wipes the thought from her mind.
If she had the training, Maya could cure herself of the pollen, but in order to be trained she’d have to remember more than five minutes of what Grandmother has to teach her.
It’s an untenable situation and a complete fucking nightmare.
Still, it’s not Maya’s fault and Tetsuki isn’t going to give up on her only friend.
(And if she spends the entirety of the Dark Tournament trolling fucking Minamino then who’s to say she’s not completely justified in doing so?)
Communication is dreadful at first.
There isn’t much of a Japanese presence in Gotham–not with New York so close and their prevalence on the west coast instead–and although she finds herself fluent in Italian, bewilderingly enough, she has powerful suspicions of how she ended up in this damned city to begin with.
The reigning mafia family recently had a major shipment disrupted… by a figure in glowing green.
One guess on what the shipment was; none for who the figure is.
Needless to say, Tetsuki is reluctant to follow that avenue.
She’d much rather make do with her minimal English and stammering, questioning translations between Romance languages and, when all that fails, complex charades that ends in futility more than success anyway.
But she barely needs to ask for help to get what she needs–she wonders if maybe she looks that pathetic or if, improbably, Gotham isn’t as heartless as she’d appear to be.
By the time she becomes comfortable with the languages of her new life, talking isn’t all that necessary.
—
Ivy is more than generous, sheltering and protecting and teaching with no payment needed, but there are some things she cannot provide which she says Tetsuki will need.
Especially if she ever wants to live a life outside of Robinson Park and the gifts of kindness Ivy bestows upon her.
But even in this, Ivy is kind, because she knows someone who can help.
Selina Kyle, perhaps the only Gotham Rogue who has never had a stint in Arkham, is also the best at maintaining her civilian life.
Tetsuki is in desperate need of that. She isn’t even sure if Tetsuki is her real name or just something she made up after being revived by glowing green light. The only clothes she has are some hand me downs from Edmundo’s near infinite sisters and the pair of boots she took from a would be mugger with conveniently small feet.
Tetsuki is basically a feral cat in human form.
Selina Kyle is well suited to this particular job.
—
Tetsuki becomes a pimp mostly by accident.
“Pimp” is perhaps the wrong word, but “madame” is even further. Bouncer would work if she were at a specific venue with consistent hours and pay, but as it is, she mostly just drops in and rains fiery green hell on any john who gets too violent and lets their would-be-victims play with her hair until their hands stop shaking.
She makes sure they get the money they earned and takes the rest for herself.
The workers get protection and payment, the Vasquez garage get an influx in cars, and Tetsuki figures out that she can electrocute people with her bare hands if she’s angry enough.
In a matter of weeks, Tetsuki’s nine block territory sees an increase in its night time population.
This kinda harkens to this fake fic summary in which Shikako simultaneously lives four distinct lives and only her choices are what make them different. So in All You Have to Do (Is Stay), there is a reality which is DoS(ish), one which is her getting overly involved from the beginning (probably ending up with her on a very stressful genin team with Kabuto), one which she takes a half step back and doesnât want to mess with canon so she gets a team with âextrasâ (Team Medic!AU!AU), and one in which she goes AS FAR AWAY AS POSSIBLE and joins the Fire Temple monks.
Monk!Shikako is maybe most like what youâre describing, I think. Except in your version, instead of Shikako knowing about the different AUs (because she lives them all) they are all discrete realities and itâs other people who travel across and find her. Which would be pretty appealing as a story, anon.
I feel like, though, that even if she tries to avoid the plot it still finds her somehow. Like, I mean, at the Fire Temple, maybe she and Sora (who is basically a Naruto-Sasuke fusion) become reluctant friends and together they do extracurricular training in trying to control his pseudo-jinchuuriki status, which may or may not help out when Akatsuki comes around? I donât know.
And Iâm also not sure much attachment Fire Temple monks are allowed to have. Theyâre obviously not the âenlightenment comes from total isolationâ but Iâm also not sure if, for example, by joining the temple Shikako had to forfeit her Nara status. Most likely she did have to forfeit any claim to heiress (and maybe some cruel and politically inclined rumors suspect that Shikaku deliberately sent his chakra hypersensitive child to the temple so that would be the case) but perhaps she does get to keep some attachment to her family. Even then, sheâs probably not the first Nara to join the temple (maybe full time, yes, but Chiriku didnât seem at all confused by her request for the month-long sabbatical).
What Iâm saying is, I wonder if sheâs allowed to visit Konoha and accidentally get involved with the plot despite her efforts. Like⊠since Chiriku used to be part of the Twelve Guardian Ninjaâeven though that particular organization did not end wellâmaybe heâs training Shikako to be his successor?
And so she is tasked with âlower riskâ guard duty of the Fire Daimyoâs family members–I mean, the Fire Lady canonically hires Konoha genin to catch Tora frequently enough that everyone hates it–or brought along as Chirikuâs apprentice to protect the royal retinue during the Konoha Chuunin Exams. And look how that ended up.
So⊠um.
This probably isnât what you wanted, anon, is it?
JackSGreyson Says 