Externality, part 3d (2017-06-26)

During her fourth year at the Academy, Tetsuki was brought in to T&I. A nerve wracking experience for anyone–T&I’s reputation being far from kind–because it’s designed to be so.

It’s especially awful for a ten year old who has no idea what she’s done wrong and why she’s being asked so many bewildering questions by a blonde man with a soft smile and lethally sharp eyes.

Beneath the layer of frenzied panic in her mind, Tetsuki was struck with the thought that no one would care if she disappeared. There was no one who would miss her, no one who would notice–or speak up if they did–just one of many Konoha orphans who mysteriously vanish.

She answered as truthfully as she could.

No, she does not know any Cloud nin.

No, she does not know anyone from Lightning country or of Lightning descent.

No, the boy she transformed into is not a real person.

He was just a boy that she imagined: when Yanagi-sensei told the class to practice their henge, with the condition that they couldn’t use anyone in the room as a template, Tetsuki was just completing the exercise.

Instead of transforming into someone she knew outside of the room–mostly because at that point, she didn’t really know people that weren’t also her classmates–she thought about that boy. Someone so opposite to her–dark skin to her pale, light hair to her dark, bright easy smile and an exuberance that couldn’t be overlooked.

She named him Ryohei and imagined that maybe, in another life, they might have been friends.

Instead, she was brought to T&I and realized that she had none.

Naruto Uzumaki does not look like him, different shades and shapes and even the smile is different. But maybe–in this life even–they might one day be friends.


A/N: Spoilers? This section references another mostly unwritten fanfic Trailblazers which is set in the Katekyo Hitman Reborn ‘verse where Tetsuki is “originally” from.

Blitzkrieg, part four (2017-04-05)

yowling cat
outside my window
what is it you say?
though night falls
the dog next door
barks and barks away

trash bins lining
pockmarked roads
soldiers on their guard
streaking tail lights
sirens blaring
smoking wreckage charred

upon my skin
bright red ink
curves intertwined
pressure bruising
delicate vessels
wavering blue and lined

“What is it that you want to do with your life?” she asks, nowhere near as patronizing as she could have been. She is not asking the way his the school counselor does, ready to guide him on his way–university, training school, straight to work–but rather one honestly curious teen to another as equals. Or perhaps even one seeking the other as an example.

Often, choices are not a result of desire but of necessity.

“Maybe,” he says, hesitates, falls silent.

She does not prompt him to continue, does nothing but wait patiently and drink her tea. A snake poised, ready but still.

Snakes only attack those who encroach on their space.

He ponders and drinks his tea.

train tracks
three am
look out,
railroad crossing
stay behind
the yellow line
four minutes
doors opening,
doors closing
on benches
we sit
skin prickling
excuse me,
fogged out
hunched over
same train

He has no future in basketball. He was never more than a one trick pony, an accessory to other, better players.

But that’s… selfish. It’s a self-centered way of thinking. Basketball has always been about more than raw talent and unstoppable techniques. It’s about teamwork and effort and the people that helped them win.

He has no future in playing basketball. He can’t compete on the court, not at the higher, professional levels. But that doesn’t mean he’s completely cut off from it. He can still be part of the world, even if he’s not center stage.

“Maybe,” he says again, still hesitant.

She watches, waits; doesn’t tell him to turn back.

She doesn’t need to.

precipice, propensity,
every little piece.
building, straining,
brand new world.

thread and needles,
winding through,
beneath our fingers,
a familiar pattern

preserve, procede
throw it all in the fire

This time, the card does not get hidden away, forgotten. This time, he enters the information to his phone, and offers his in return.

Superfluous, but appreciated for the gesture it is.

He tells his school counselor that he’d like to go to university, specialize in education or sports psychology. He wants to be a teacher or maybe a coach.

He has no future in playing basketball, but that does not mean basketball doesn’t have a future in him.

There is no need to rip himself away from that world entirely, jump headfirst into a world of shadow and flames and irreversible commitments.

There will be time for that later.


A/N: Word Prompt (S81): Stamp. Which doesn’t have anything to do with the ficlet, except for how it led me to writing it.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I was doing with this series, but it didn’t feel right to have Kuroko join Vongola out of high school (mostly because Tetsuki probably wouldn’t let him join Vongola out of high school). So I guess this is “the end” of the series. For now.

Like, mostly I just wanted them to meet. Maybe one day he will join Vongola (or act as an outside contractor, or he’ll be the teacher to the next wave of over powered teenagers) but that’s not… well. Never say never, I guess.

I am your lionheart? For the prompt thing?

Okay so this is clearly a reference to the Of Monsters and Men song King and Lionheart which is about the artists who are brother and sister. So with that alone and no specific fandom or character for context I guess I’ll shuffle through a couple of potential fics I’d write for this title?

So the thing is…

The nearest fic I have that I think best embodies a “you’re my king and I’m your lionheart” vibe would be my FFVII fic Into Thin Air, in which my SI!OC is Cloud’s genderfluid twin. (And, well, given that I’ve always pictured Windy to have curly hair then it’s kind of hilariously on point since Cloud’s spiky hair could be a crown and Windy’s curly hair would be a mane). Except, obviously, that’s already titled.

It may also apply to the Into Thin Air x Naruto crossover series I play with every now and then. It does have an additional layer of feels, beyond the parallel of Naruto is Cloud’s distant descendant, since in the beginning Windy is depressed and traumatized and grieving and doesn’t have the energy to be brave for this strange child that looks so much like her brother but zie tries anyway. For this familiar looking touchstone, zie’ll try.

I don’t think I’d do a DoS fic for this since it’s very obviously a “Shikako’s feelings about Shikamaru” and that’s already included in Dreaming of Sunshine so anything I’d write would be redundant? (I’m actually surprised that this song hasn’t already been recced for the DoS Soundtrack for the Nara twins. Especially for the Land of the Moon arc… I’ll just scuttle over there and do that real quick)

Hm, let’s see…

… Maybe if I were a little more keen I’d do a Katsuki siblings fic for Yuri on Ice, because surely Mari has a lot of thoughts surrounding her glass hearted national skating ace baby brother except I would rather read this fic than write it because I have no idea what those thoughts would be and how best to articulate them… (… or 映利’s POV)

I think I’m getting off track, anon.

Okay, flat out from the title alone–no trying to shoehorn it into a series I already have, no adhering too much to the song and the artist’s meaning–I’m getting Katekyo Hitman Reborn vibes but for two different fic which is… okay.

One fic would be from Kyoko’s POV, in a Kyoko-is-Sun-Guardian!AU or even in my Trailblazers ‘verse, and it would be about her growing up from cardboard-cutout-of-a-shounen-love-interest into a vital part of an international crime organization and it would definitely include her determination from Ryohei (and Tetsuki), her platonic feelings about Tsuna, and her opinion of Vongola.

Character study, basically.

The other fic I don’t think I’d ever actually write, given I already have Trailblazers as an SI!OC fic, but I think I’ve actually done a fake fic summary for this idea? (Ah, here it is)

Basically, Tsuna has a female twin. One who isn’t as disastrously dame as he is, but is still plainly average. The Sawada twins are Vongola’s “spare and mare” (in the nobility used to have three children the heir, the spare, and the mare) but given that all the heirs are dead (or unfit and frozen in magical ice) that means Tsuna and Nina (short for Giannina and to match the 27 thing?) are the only heirs left.

And while pitting the twins against each other in a competition to inherit a crime organization doesn’t automatically have the same emotional resonance as the song, I do kind of think at the root of Nina’s conflicted emotions about the situation that she’s doing this for Tsuna. The world of the mafia is dangerous, her brother can barely get through a school day without a bruise or scrape of some sort, he’s repeatedly said he doesn’t want to be part of the mafia. So she’s going to defeat him and become Decima so that he doesn’t have to.

He’s “king” in the sense that he’s the most important person to her and she will brave the sins of Vongola for him, but only so long as he doesn’t actually become “king” of Vongola.

Blitzkrieg, part three (2017-02-08)

brushing past
strangers in a crowd
falling from your hand

curled beneath
smothering sheets
blankets and paperwork

a misstep
melody carries on
blisters and threadbare shoes
whisper of devotion

It’s early afternoon when she shows up, and he’s not sure why that seems odd to him.

Not sure why it feels like she ought to have showed up in the middle of the night. Broken down his door, flashing green lights and danger in her hands.

It’s weird to see her in the light of day, even though that’s how they met last time.

Last time she wasn’t wearing a suit and tie, lethal as a bullet

He feels underdressed in his street ball clothes.

pressure against my skull
squeezing ideas into diamonds,
ruthless bitter pills of starlight
scraping inside my throat,
swallowed down gasps
along with every little fear,
hidden beneath my skin
a map of the far flung exit.


“Congratulations,” says lightning bolt in green ink, “on Seirin’s victory, Kuroko-san,” the smile on her face as sharp and well-crafted as the suit she wears.

This is not the girl who bought a stranger a vanilla milkshake as an apology while scarfing down a sandwich and chips heedlessly. This is not the girl who told him he was too trusting, told him to beware treading into stormy waters.

This is the girl whose parlor trick can slice through metal. The girl who didn’t deny homicide as a possible–and even feasible–method of secret keeping.

The girl who could see him in a crowd when nobody else could.

A crest and a uniform and a girl who can do impossible things.

Just because they’re only meeting again now doesn’t mean that she and the others–the ones she needed to consult with, the ones who had sent her on a job in the first place–hadn’t been keeping tabs on him the entire time.

His life is not a mystery to them.

It’s not as much of a surprise as he thought it would be.

“Thank you,” he says, “It’s nice to see you again.”

The smile he gets this time is truer, but no less sharp, “You too.”

footprints in the dirt
candle at the crossroads
the devil appears
and laughs

can’t trade away
what’s no longer yours

stained glass hopes
prayer books in the pews

no rest for the wicked

They go back to his house, same as before, two cups of tea.

She does not need to look around and observe the details of his life.

She already knows.


“I’ll be honest. I’m not sure why you’ve contacted me,” she says. “You’re not in any trouble, and there are plenty of people who can see you now.”

You’re not that desperate, lonely boy anymore, she doesn’t say.

They watch the steam rise from their cups, silent.

“Do you play basketball?” he asks, finally, after the lull has passed.

She shakes her head, “My choice of extracurricular activities were more individual than that. Archery and aikido,” she explains.

“Were?” he repeats.

Her mouth tightens for a moment, “I have other obligations now,” she says, and it doesn’t take a genius to understand what she’s referring to.

“I love basketball,” he says, like it’s torn out of him, like a confession, “but I don’t have a future there.”

Not like his former teammates, not like Kagami-kun. The only edges he had in games were determination and misdirection. Neither of them can sustain a career in basketball.

“Why did you ask me to meet you?” she asks, already beginning to piece it together.

He has no future in basketball. But that doesn’t mean he has no future elsewhere.

He looks at her: suit and obligations, green ink on ivory card stock.

There’s a future there, even if he’s not sure he wants it.

Blitzkrieg, part two (2017-02-05)

scurrying, chittering
crumbs on the floor
tiny paws, tiny mouths
patient and afraid

thudding and whining
along comes the dog
tamed and shameless
but well fed

beware the cat

No one is at home.

This is not a surprise.

No one is ever at home.

The girl–“it might be better if we don’t know each other’s names yet”–looks around curiously. He wonders what she sees, if she can spot the details of his life as easily as she could perceive him in a crowd.

“Please come in,” he says, toeing off his shoes and placing them neatly in the cubby by the door.

“Ah, please excuse me,” she responds by reflex, and doing the same with her own shoes.

“My house,” he says, inanely, as he guides her to the dining room, “You said somewhere private would be better. Would you like tea?”

“If it’s not any trouble,” she says, looking at him–and what a surprise that is every time–expression confused and nearly concerned, “I thought maybe you’d bring me to an empty park or something like that, not your house.”

He shrugs, kettle heating, preparing two cups.

“You’re overly trusting,” she chides, and perhaps, in a way, she’s right.

It’d be more accurate to say he’s desperate.

eight strokes
horizon curving
endless nonexistent

at the heart
of every wish
is a lack

Over cups of steaming tea, the girl tells him about impossibilities. Powers beyond human capability sealed away within every human on the planet.

He thinks maybe she is playing a cruel trick–he her gullible audience–until she actually shows him.

It costs him one hundred yen, but she gives the sliced halves of the coin right back.

“Mine are Lightning Flames,” she explains, fingernail sparking bright green.

The expression on his face must speak for itself, because she continues, “Yeah, I’m not sure why they’re called that. There’s a kind called Rain too and it basically acts just like water does. Really, the only type which has a name that makes sense is the Sun Flames.”

“And you think I have these Flames, too?” he asks, hopeful but doubting. He’s only ever been a shadow–or maybe a lens if he’s being generous–to someone else’s light.

Again that expression of pity and guilt flickers over her face. She hesitates.

“… not yet.”

the absence of pleasure
is apathy
numbness spreading
cold skin

the absence of pain
is pleasure
relief and recovery
salt copper heat

which is stronger?
which is true?

“I need to consult with the others,” she says, firm in her denial, “I don’t know how much is safe to tell you yet. There’s the very real risk that if I tell you more–”

“–you’ll have to kill me?” he interrupts, disappointed and snide because of it.

Her silence is rebuke and confirmation both, enough that he stops. Remember the coin, his blood seems to sing, how easily she split the metal as if paper.

The sound of her putting on her shoes is simultaneously ominous and reassuring.

“My card,” she says, which jars him out of his fear. “I know, right? What kind of teenager has business cards–how pretentious,” she rolls her eyes as she holds out the card.

Ivory card stock with rich green letters providing an email address and phone number. No name, though, only a strange crest at the top and a lightning bolt below that.

“There are dangerous secrets in this world,” she warns, “but if you decide you really want to know or if you need my help… if you think the knowledge is worth the danger. Then you’ll know how to reach me.”

He takes the card.

She leaves, still nameless to him.

The card goes into a desk drawer, forgotten for almost two years.

Blitzkrieg, part one (2017-02-02)

she chokes out
heart in her throat
pulse and breath
teeth biting into
muscle and sinew
blood on her tongue.

“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

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

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

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?


“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!

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)_/¯

Word Prompts (I25): Introduction

Konran Uzumaki – Counterpoise

(Spiral in, storm out.)

She wears wire in her hair, braids of red and metal winding round and round her head. Pins blunt against her scalp, sharp points outward, everything hidden under a bandana rigged to blow.

Uzushio’s legacy, beneath dark cloth.

Kiyoshi Utsugi – (In)Difference

(Neutrality brings peace.)

Lightning thrums under her skin, running along her nerves, writhing. Wind at her fingertips, whipping at her cheek, waiting to be unleashed.

Conscious clear, target in sight: shoot.

Tetsuki Kaiza – Trailblazers / Externality / Iron Will

(Fate worse than death.)

The first time around she is furious-regretful-afraid-satisfied, at least, she will be swiftly avenged.

The second time she is desperate: she doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to do this again, doesn’t want this curse.

By the third she is hollowed out and resigned.

Aomi (Inuzuka) – B*tch Please

(Humanity is beastly.)

The rage in her has nothing to do with the fangs in her mouth or the growl in her lungs. She dreams of hunting intangible things–justice, strength, the future–plans like shaky ground beneath her paws.

Truth and loyalty require sacrifice.

Windy Strife – Into Thin Air

(Steps ahead, left behind.)

The suit sits heavy on her shoulders, fabric stiff and blue still new. The bow, long carried, doesn’t quite match but it fits perfectly in his hand.

Zie is a weapon, forged and honed, then and now.

Reyniero Chason – Running Backwards

(Battle fiercely for the king.)

There are no options, train on the track, future written down and read in the past. And yet, here I am, poised to defy the fate put on him.

If anyone is the spare, it’s me.

Branton Evans – Growing Strong (Burning Bright)

(Thorns, sparks, and silver linings.)

He knows much about regret, had felt it even as he continued to walk away, needing to follow through. Time doesn’t always heal, sometimes it erodes instead.

Nevertheless, things can still be salvaged.

Haru Kuwabara – (En)Closure

(Winning might be everything.)

Go is a battle, is a conversation, is life–according to her grandfather anyway. But she knows death, so she knows that despite all the drama, go is just a game.

But against gods and murderers and the stark face of justice, it’s a nice thought.

Ember Ketchum – A Year With The Moon

(Knowledge is double edged.)

Sight beyond does not make her immune, does not make her anything but a liability. Her entire existence is a dilemma and now, it seems, she has made the wrong choice.

Behind a glowing wall in her mind, she watches herself attack her brother.


A/N: Surprisingly, the word prompt is relevant to the writing! Except for the last one, each section is basically a motto + three sentence fic (or four sentence fic) summarizing my various OCs. Almost like little trailers for the different series… (The last one isn’t because I realized that Ash having a twin during the first Pokemon movie, ie the one featuring Mewtwo, would have the potential for EPIC FEELS).

Basically, after my weird breakdown/rant/fit of low self-esteem that I had yesterday I kind of wanted to make up for that. Sorry, again, @to-someplace-else, it wasn’t your fault, I go through moods, I hope you (and other readers) enjoy this.

Post Word Count: 422, TOTAL Word Count: 10860

So… last day of November. Unsurprisingly, did not meet the NaNo quota but that’s okay because a lot of my posts this month (like this one) were three sentence fic and for some reason I wrote a lot of poetry…

Cross Post: Trailblazers, Bright and Bold, “Epilogue Arc” drabble (2016-01-20)

original here. dated 2013-12-10

[[A/N: As previously stated in this post, this is one in a series of Trailblazers cross posts to make up for my abysmal showing for the past few days.

Trailblazers, Bright and Bold, with it’s slightly different title, is in a way the prototype for the Trailblazers I’ve been writing on this tumblr. So not everything in these cross posts would make the final cut of the hypothetical complete Trailblazers fic.

This one is set approximately… eight-nine years in the future? (as in, the actual future, in which everyone is now late teens/early twenties. Hence “Epilogue Arc”). The reason why I’m unsure is because this is supposed to be the one of the last few scenes of Trailblazers since Tetsuki’s literal deadline is approaching soon.

Like the first of these Trailblazers cross posts, this one is about my bewilderingly strong feels for the TetsukixKusakabe ship. Actually… my very first drabble on this tumblr was Tetsuki trying to buy a wedding ring for him. It’s like I’ve come full circle…]]


Their wedding is a beautiful one.

Not perfect, no, not at all, but beautiful nonetheless. It’s the first wedding amongst the tenth Vongola generation so it’s somewhat more political than they’d prefer, being obligated to invite allied Family members, but it helps that most of them are friends anyway.

The number of guests, though, means that the Foundation members not out on missions have to function as security–though Tetsuya has been calling them all ushers, even the ones with sniper rifles positioned on the rooftops of adjacent buildings–but they seem happy with it, glad to be there in person rather than wait for the video to be put together. She still can hardly believe how fond of her they are, calling her Ane-san even though she’s younger than most of them.

It’s a western-style wedding, but it’s held in Namimori. For all that they both work for the Italian mafia, they wouldn’t even consider marrying anywhere else. Kyouya-san wouldn’t let them, even if it does mean many of their guests have to travel halfway around the world. Kyouya-san is paying for the wedding after all.

Well, sort of. The caterer and florist are both Namimori-born; when Kyouya-san was mentioned, they offered their services for free. For different reasons: the caterers know who really runs Namimori and would never dare insult him while, apparently, the florists are huge fans of the Hibari manor gardens.

Her dress was made by Haru, of course, and even though she rejected Spanner’s attempts to mechanize it, Tetsuki’s pretty sure there’s still a layer of Flame reactive armor sewn in. Haru’s gotten better at subtlety, though, or perhaps Kyoko intervened because it’s not overly flashy or frilly or have anything overtly odd like wings. She even made a little bow-tie for Yuzuru, which is most likely also made out of Flame reactive metal.

Lambo’s the ring-bearer, even though he claimed he’s too old–but he was easy enough to trick when Kyoko told him how important the ring was in a wedding. How the ring-bearer is more like a ring-guardian. He’s almost electrocuted three guests already, but even in her flower girl dress, I-pin is just as quick as ever to stop him while Kyoko soothes things over with the almost victims.

With all that she’s been doing behind the scenes, Kyoko probably should have been her maid of honor, but she just smiled and said she liked the first choice better. She’s still a bridesmaid, of course, along with Haru and Chrome, but her best friend has always been Ryohei. He’s her man of honor–it’s not traditional, no, but neither of them really care–and he’s walking her down the aisle.

He cried when she asked him to, and she just huffed at him and asked who else did he think she’d consider; honestly Ryohei, even though he’s the Boss, Tsuna’s still so nervous about the strangest things.

If Kyouya-san hated crowds even a little bit less, he would have been Tetsuya’s best man. She knows he’s watching from somewhere, but she hasn’t actually seen him, just Tsuna’s increasingly twitchy eye that means he is around and possibly challenging guests and allies to fights or he and Mukuro are causing possible structural damage to the church.

As it is, Romario-san is the best man, which is fortunate because he’ll be near the center of attention and that means Chiavarone tripping and breaking something won’t be. Although, they’ve been suspiciously scanning the grounds for what she suspects is a missing Enzio. If that turtle ends up interrupting the wedding she won’t be the only one, or even the first one, in line to strangle Chiavarone.

That dubious honor goes to Fuuta and Bianchi. Who are looking over everything in a meticulous and exceedingly crazed manner–they’re the wedding planners, an odd, somewhat worrying, but surprisingly effective partnership which has made even Kyouya-san concede in a few wedding decisions (she and Tetsuya hadn’t even tried).

They’re both wearing tastefully simple silver domino masks, which means Fuuta’s doing so out of solidarity or they have really been hanging around each other for too long and have fused into some sort of hive-mind. It’s not exactly the weirdest thing to happen in their lives.

It’s all beautiful. Ridiculous and mad, of course, and nothing like perfect, but it’s beautiful.

She can’t do this.


[[A/N: Obviously, this drabble is incomplete, seeing as how she does end up married to Kusakabe. But whether that means they both ignore the ceremony and elope, or Tetsuki shakes off the last second doubts and follows through… I kind of forget what I had planned. I do remember Gokudera was supposed to talk to her (after Ryohei, the Guardian she is closest to is meant to be Gokudera… though that’s probably because Hibari is resistant to being close to anyone not under his control. It’s ranked as such: Ryohei, Gokudera, Hibari, Chrome, Yamamoto, Mukuro.

It’s a relationship built out of having similar childhoods (despite him being part of the mafia world) and the resulting mix of caustic distrustfulness and low self-esteem. Also, expository dialogue which Tetsuki would ask for in order to better understand the mafia world.

Also, after me, Hibari is the biggest TetsukixKusakabe shipper. As are the entire Disciplinary Committee, even from the beginning 😀 ]]

Cross Post: Trailblazers, Bright and Bold, “Epilogue Arc” drabble (2016-01-19)

original here. dated 2013-12-10

[[A/N: As previously stated in this post, this is one in a series of Trailblazers cross posts to make up for my abysmal showing for the past few days.

Trailblazers, Bright and Bold, with it’s slightly different title, is in a way the prototype for the Trailblazers I’ve been writing on this tumblr. So not everything in these cross posts would make the final cut of the hypothetical complete Trailblazers fic.

This one is also set approximately five (maybe six) years in the future like this previous cross post. As in, the actual future, in which everyone is now late teens/early twenties. Hence “Epilogue Arc”

This particular drabble is partner to yesterday’s–but instead of focusing on the Guardians, it goes into the other family members’ roles and the daily life around the Vongola mansion. This is more immediately related to The Green Knight series (a TrailblazersxKingsman crossover) , and these strictly Trailblazers drabbles (here and here) since it also kind of hints at the decline of Vongola as a crime family and the resurrection of it as a a peacekeeping/vigilante group.]]


She wouldn’t say she’s surprised, but she is still sometimes confused on how well she fits into the Vongola Family. Considering her own background… well. While she was lucky to have the Sasagawas, in truth it was mostly her clinging onto Ryohei and Kyoko as best as she could. She was content and never really reached for more because she never really wanted more. But Vongola is different. Family is different.

For all that she loves (and is loved by) Tetsuya, mutually fond of members of the Disciplinary Committee (now the Foundation), and tolerated by Kyouya-san, she knows that her presence there is something of a distraction if not a disruption. Even on the occasions when she gives a few weeks’ heads up or when it’s for an official Vongola mission.

They are distinctly Kyouya-san’s followers–her fellow Guardian has never liked crowding or sharing. They are to her what friendly in-laws are to normal people, pleasant but not Family.

She’s not on missions very often, the nature of them becoming less and less frequent the more Tsuna changes both his Family and the mafia world entirely, but she’s still not an integral part of the daily routine. That’s what Tsuna and Hayato are for.

It’s weird, though, for her to be in the mansion and not try to help out in some way. She kept her childhood house immaculate, and mostly fended for herself, but in the Vongola mansion there are servants. Servants who are probably better trained than many countries’ military, but servants nonetheless. And with her being so high in the Vongola hierarchy (a Guardian is second only to the Boss) they refuse to let her do some of the mundane things like do her own laundry or cook her own food or fix her own bed…

Actually, they looked somewhat insulted when she first attempted to do so. It was baffling until Hayato explained that she was implying she didn’t trust them–it was as if she suspected they were traitors and would poison her things.

Since then she lets the servants do their jobs, but makes sure to be as cordial as possible. She’s never been particularly sociable but she’s pretty sure they like her better than Mukuro–who almost could not be creepy and patronizing if he were paid to do so–or even Ryohei who, while well-meaning, is practically a living wrecking ball. She knows the construction workers like her simply due to the number of commiserating looks they’ve all shared (she buys them fruit baskets every time she knows Ryohei has broken some piece of furniture or some part of the house).

Even including that, most of her interaction with Vongola Family’s non-Guardians is still with Kyoko and Haru. But they’re both fairly high up in the hierarchy of Vongola as well, and far busier than she is–Kyoko is second in command of the Vongola medics. More like the one truly in charge, because Shamal, while brilliant, always was more of a lone wolf than a leader. Of course, under Kyoko’s eye the Vongola Medical Corps have become a highly-lauded entity in its own right due to sheer competency.

Haru, similarly, has grown into her talents to the benefit of herself and Vongola. Technically she is the Family’s CFO–something which causes her and Hayato to quarrel with each other so regularly that other members of the Family know when it’s the first Thursday of the month by the yelling and explosions and high pitched laughing and, strangely, singing and piano playing.

But she gets bored easily, as many of her accountant underlings can attest to, and anyway her true passion has always lain elsewhere. The engineers, while nominally under the purview of Shouichi and Spanner, have also been conditioned to obey Haru’s whims.


[[A/N: This one is sort of incomplete–I had been meaning to mention some of the other non-Guardian characters, such as Hana and Bianchi, and the children–but…]]