Trailblazers ficlet (2016-12-09)

It doesn’t snow at Vongola HQ, southern Italy blessed with the Mediterranean climate, but winters are still cold enough that she feels it in the night.

Tetsuki has a room in Vongola HQ, elegantly decorated with classic furniture and soft green fabrics. She doesn’t like it.

She’s not ungrateful: It is a nice room, and she likes having a space that is designated hers–traveling so often and to so many different locales means that she spends most of the year in hotel rooms or makeshift bases in warehouses.

But she’s here so infrequently that it doesn’t feel like home. It doesn’t help that Tetsuya is in Namimori.

The bed is comfortable, with smooth linens that feel nice on her skin and a duvet heavy enough to feel grounded under.

But it’s so big and even with all the pillows and blankets piled around her in a nest, it feels… lonely. Cold. Empty.

She’s had enough of that feeling for a lifetime.

It’s a couple minutes passed one in the morning, but the beast that is Vongola HQ doesn’t really sleep, hallways lowly lit. One of the house staff glances at her oddly, a slouching mass of pillows and blankets, but they bow respectfully when she waves them away.

Ryohei’s room is only a few doors down from hers.

In the morning, she eases out from her cocoon, taking care not to rustle either of her bedmates.

Remaining bedmates, at least, when she takes count–finding only Hana’s dark tangle of bedhead and the very tips of Kyoko’s light brown hair poking out of her own blanket cocoon.

Ryohei must have woken up already; like her, still accustomed to early morning hours of high school athletes.

But unlike before, when she actually needed to prepare for her day, being one of Vongola’s elite Guardians means she doesn’t have to prepare meals for the day or clean up the house. But she’s awake and she’s not going to be able to go back to sleep any time soon.

She takes one of the multitude of blankets, wrapping it around herself, before excusing herself from the room in silence.

In the hallway, she meets Yamamoto and feels flat-footed.

In nearly a decade of being Guardians, Tetsuki and Yamamoto have maybe had seven conversations with just the two of them. Of those, she walked away from at most three of them without hating him just a little more.

She’d say it’s bizarre, except she knows exactly why she doesn’t like him. And she’s pretty sure she knows why he doesn’t like her.

It’s fine, she supposes. Not all Guardians get along. At least they’re not like Kyouya-senpai and fucking Mukuro, better off continents apart. She and Yamamoto are functional, if not friends, and so long as everything stays professional, they’re fine.

Barefoot in pajamas is not professional.

And of course Yamamoto is dressed for the day, suit and tie and sword on his back.

It’s not as if she’s threatened–no Guardian is ever truly unarmed–but between the two of them, she honestly doesn’t know which of them would win in a fight. They’ve never had a need to test it, and for her sparring has always been a more congenial activity: if they ever fight, it’ll be for real.

“Kaiza-senpai,” Yamamoto says, smile plastered on his face.

Tetsuki doesn’t even bother to pretend with one of her own, “Yamamoto-kun.”

She doesn’t bother with grandstanding, turns and walks away, more than happy to leave it at that.

Except, apparently, Yamamoto has more to say, tone light but words biting, “Does Kusakabe-senpai know that you sleep in another man’s bed?”

She doesn’t take joy in her work. It’s a part of life that she does as efficiently as possible and sets aside when she’s done.

It’s not a job to be proud of, either. Though she won’t go as far as to say it is completely dishonorable: there are some people who should die–she is the one who disposes of the trash.

She’s good at it–through practice and skill, not some bullshit natural talent–and apparently in the ranking of hitmen she’s somewhere near the top. Assassination doesn’t exactly put a song in her heart…

… but she will straight up murder Yamamoto, Rain Guardian or no.

Her fingertips spark, green flashing in her peripheral vision; her Flames have always been activated by anger.

“Repeat that,” Tetsuki says. I dare you, her glare adds.

Yamamoto’s head tilts, stupid smile still on his face. His hand hasn’t gone to his weapon, but he’s standing, poised to move, “Does Kusakabe-senpai know that you–”

“Yes,” she interrupts, answer thrown down like a gauntlet.

He looks honestly surprised.

“My fiancé does know I sleep in my best friend’s bed at night,” she continues, blood still thrumming with rage, “I get cold at night and I like falling asleep with other people in the same bed. Tetsuya knows because I told him. Because I tell him everything.

"And I’m not, as you seem to be poorly trying to imply here, cheating on Tetsuya. Because unlike you, I’m not afraid of my fucking emotions, or sharing them with the man I love,” the words shoot out of her like bullets, and are just as effective given the look on Yamamoto’s face.

Just to petty, she finishes it off with, “Hayato-kun had a very nice date last weekend, did you know?”

It’s her turn to be ready as Yamamoto’s eyes turn into frost.

~

A/N: I, personally, love Yamamoto as a character. For some reason, I do think that means my OC would hate him. ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Trailblazers drabble (2016-01-11)

Kaiza-senpai and Yamamoto don’t get along, but not the same way Yamamoto and Gokudera don’t get along. It’s not words thrown like dynamite and smiles like a sword, it’s not arguments face to face but fighting back to back. It’s not a thin layer of teasing and irritation over a foundation of mutual understanding and trust.

For Kaiza-senpai and Yamamoto it’s a little bit jealousy and some awkwardness and a persistent, unavoidable uneasiness. They are warped reflections of each other, and frankly, they just don’t like each other.

Of course, they don’t actively dislike each other either–not like how Hibari-senpai and Mukuro go at each other like starving dogs, teeth and blood and bone-deep rage–but it’s a distinct lack of fondness. An absence of even trying to get along that makes it so strange.

And yet…

“Don’t call him that,” Kaiza-senpai says, sharp and cold–and not the shallow way Tsuna had always considered her, Kyoko-chan’s scary, austere almost sister–something pure and true and threatening. Promising.

Reborn, however, was scared of nothing and would probably call the Grim Reaper and amateur, “Oh?” he asks, eyebrow raising, as if to say what are you going to do about it.

Yamamoto is frozen, smile pulled tight over his face, unsure but patient.

“No one is a natural born killer,” she continues, unafraid, “That phrase is stupid.”

If Kaiza-senpai wasn’t fond Yamamoto, then she absolutely hated Reborn.

~

A/N: …

Trailblazers drabble (2015-05-07)

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, Prologue (2015-04-21)

It’s obvious from the expressions on everyone’s faces that the meeting, while necessary, is only grudgingly tolerated by all involved. Even the figures standing indolently, yet alert, in the corners of the room aren’t bothering to hide their boredom. With all the similarities between the negotiating parties, one would think the meeting to be more congenial.

Seated on opposite sides of the table are the leaders of two different vigilante organizations, both steeped in tradition and wealth. Beside them are their respective advisor, their right hands as one might say, each of them doing the majority of the speaking. Behind them are two silent guardians each, and even there the similarities extend–a young man with a slight smile curling at his lips, and a young woman whose professional stoicism practically drips with irritation. And yet, the tension remains.

Perhaps it is because one of the organizations had recently suffered a much-needed change in leadership, due to the previous head having been complicit in the death of millions. Perhaps it is because the other organization had previously been a crime organization, only changing to vigilantism after their own recent change in leadership. Perhaps it is because, despite both parties having left all overt weapons outside of the room, they all remain quite lethal.

It does not help that the youngest member of one of the negotiating parties is older than the eldest member of the other party. Both of them being the only females in the room.

“We understand the need for cooperation during these times of strife, yet the information you are asking for is one that must remain within Vongola,” the young man who only introduced himself as Tempesta says in softly accented English. The accent itself is difficult to parse, which is odd considering Vongola is a solely Italian organization. He has a mildly apologetic smile, to soften what is an unyielding refusal.

His premature shock of silver hair contrasts severely against the bald head of the other negotiator, codename Merlin, though the falsely conciliatory expressions are the same on both, “And yet, you ask the same of us. Surely you see how we would appreciate reciprocity.”

“Ah, but it is not a full disclosure we ask for. We would simply prefer to know when one of your… knights are to be in Italy and their purpose. So that we can ensure our respective… agents do not end up in each other’s crosshairs. Vongola is Italian, our activities are not the concerns of foreigners.”

“And yet, we have information on a number of assassinations performed on British soil by Ms. Fulmine who herself is a Japanese citizen,” Merlin gestures respectfully to said woman who only nods in acknowledgement, not bothering to deny something obviously true and which their side hadn’t really bothered making a secret.

“All on Italian citizens, specifically, members of mafia families whose activities your Kingsman would agree to be reprehensible.” Tempesta responds calmly, though his fingers tap impatiently against the table in silent twitches.

“And we also have several accounts of your affiliated groups–Varia and The Foundation–operating within the United Kingdom,” Merlin reveals, much to the displeasure of his Vongola counterpart.

At that, the Vongola show their youth and relative inexperience. Or perhaps their impatience, worn down by the tediousness of the meeting. Regardless, the guards standing in the corners, Fulmine and Pioggia, both drop their silent routine to laugh; the former in exasperation, the latter sheepishly. While Tempesta hisses angrily at them in Japanese, something along the lines of keeping their seniors out of trouble, their leader, Decimo finally deigns to speak.

“Both of our organizations have a history–of violence and secrets. This meeting is one of a new alliance, and for that both of us must change. From now on, at the very least, we will afford you the same information on our operations in your country as you do your activities in ours,” His English, likewise, is interestingly accented–more so than Tempesta’s–though recognizably with more of a Japanese flair. Which is odd, considering the leader of the Vongola is a hereditary position. But his words state simply what the two groups had been dancing around.

“I quite agree,” The Kingsman leader, only called Arthur, nods. What little remained of the tension in room easily dissipates, despite Merlin’s disgruntled sigh. The young knights, Galahad and Lancelot, also allow their inexperience to break through in grins tinged with relief… and amusement at the expense of their Vongola counterparts still being scolded by Tempesta.

~

A/N: Um… I’m not sure what’s up with this to be honest… but basically. I watched Kingsman. It was… okay? Like, it was totally worth the cost of a ticket. But I don’t know if I’d go watch it again? I might buy get the DVD, but I wouldn’t watch it again in theaters.

I’m following the headcanon of Harry survived and became Arthur, so Eggsy became Galahad.

And it’s a crossover with my KHR SI!OC fanfic Trailblazers. So, Decimo is Tsuna, obviously, Tempesta being Gokudera, Pioggia being Yamamoto, and Fulmine being my OC Tetsuki.

I don’t know which canon (fanon) it is but I think Roxy (Lancelot) is 24 and Eggsy is 25? So Tetsuki who, for some reason, I never let live to see age 25 and who is a year older than the other three would be the same age as Roxy if not younger. Probably younger, though, so that it’s early in Tsuna’s reign as Decimo.

Also… not really the comeback I wanted buuuuut oh well. I hope ya’ll enjoyed the cross-posts. I’ll probably come back to them sooner or later.

Edit: Now continued (sort of) here!

Edit2: The series is now called The Green Knight… I guess this is the prologue.