Hi! Just wanted to tell you that I absolutely love Windy Strife and hope to read more of her life (whether in FF7 or in the Naruto world)

Nobody likes Windy Strife.

They like who zie could be. They like how zie can and will change to be what they want.

Mom, too, never really liked Windy. She loved hir, of course, an unconditional mother’s love, but it wouldn’t be wrong to say that she liked Cloud better. A daydreamer son over the grim and jaded child forever roaming the wilds–in mind, if not also in body.

Windy’s still sorry that zie couldn’t be the daughter that she wanted.

It’s not the first time Windy’s been on Rufus Shinra’s cargo ship–at some point every Turk does a guard rotation on it, Winter not exempt from this–but it’s certainly the first time as a stowaway.

The accommodations aren’t too different, sadly, but zie definitely agrees with the others that finally getting hir feet on the ground of Costa del Sol is a relief.

Still AVALANCHE is technically a terrorist group–and Windy an accessory if not already a ShinRa traitor–and so they have to maintain a low profile while securing a place to rest and recover.

Thankfully, zie has an idea.

“Aerith?” zie asks her, “Can I borrow your spare dress for a bit?”

Everyone else, preferring to pretend zie doesn’t exist, turns to hir with suspicion, but that’s hardly anything new.

“Of course,” Aerith answers, because Winter’s former charge is the nicest and only person that tolerates hir presence. “Though I don’t think my jacket will fit you,” she says while rummaging through her pack.

It’s true that Windy has broader shoulders, but thankfully the dress itself is sleeveless and feminine enough to suit hir purposes.

“This isn’t the time for a makeover,” Lockhart scoffs, “though at least you’ve finally acknowledged that you need one.”

Windy grits hir teeth and tries not to visibly react, but hir gratitude to Aerith is strained.

A quick change and Windy’s current outfit is replaced with Aerith’s pink dress and Winter’s button up shirt folded and coyly tied as needed. It’s hardly anything to swipe a pair of sandals from an outdoor stall–as easy as undoing hir bun–and in a matter of moments it’s not Windy or even Winter the Turk standing there but someone else entirely.

Wendy goes to work.

When the twins had traveled from Nibelheim to Midgar, they had stopped in Costa del Sol. Passage to the Eastern Continent is expensive for one, two is more so.

Beyond the reach of Mt. Nibel’s harsh climes, Windy learns to be softer, warmer. Smile sweetly and look demur, but never promise more than zie can give.

Wendy is just a girl from the boondocks trying to get to the big city, what else would she be?

Surprisingly enough, Butch remembers Windy. Or, rather, Wendy.

Zie was fifteen and new to creating aliases, though zie hasn’t gotten much more creative.

“Wendy, babe, sexier than ever!” Butch calls out from his shop when he spots her approach. “I knew you couldn’t resist this for long,” he gestures to himself, eyes raking up her form. She knows what he sees: she’s taller than before, increase in height greater than her increase in bust, but she’s a fully grown woman now.

Yeah, Butch is sleazy, but he’s pretty well off and, more importantly, well connected in Costa del Sol.

And, unlike some people Wendy met, all talk.

Wendy smiles, leaning against the counter, forearm pushing up and emphasizing her assets.

“Midgar just doesn’t compare to Costa del Sol,” she sighs–perhaps meaning something besides the cities, perhaps not–looking up through her lashes. “Unfortunately, I’m only here to prepare for a party being thrown next week–and of course I can get you an invite–but I need to make sure accommodations are perfect.” She bites her lip, looking away for a second as if checking for eavesdroppers, “I can’t say who it’s for, of course, but let’s just say it’d make quite the buzz.”

Even across the ocean, Honey Bee Inn is famous.

“Is that so?” Butch asks, unconvincingly casual and completely hooked.

Wendy’s smile–or, rather, Winter’s smile–grows sharp, “I don’t suppose you could help me get the key to The Villa?”

In Midgar, the Strife twins were still the Strife twins, but they were Wind and Cloud–brothers both trying out for SOLDIER.

Wind was a man’s man–or, at least, a man in the making in comparison to the utter boys that some of his fellow cadets were. Smart and skilled and surprisingly charismatic, everything a future SOLDIER should strive to be.

Too bad Wind Strife was never real.

Technically The Villa is called Shinra Villa–built by the President as a summer home–but considering the sheer opulence and scale of it, no other villa in Costa del Sol deserves the epithet.

Of course, much like it’s derelict sibling Nibelheim, it hasn’t been owned by Shinra in a long time. But, alas, no one else can afford such an obnoxious piece of real estate, and so it remains empty.

But not necessarily unused.

Windy is still in hir Wendy headspace, flashier and more feminine than hir real self, and so she presents the doors of The Villa with all the flair of a showgirl.

Zie’s actually really proud of hirself, so the continued blankly suspicious stares from the majority of the party aren’t exactly what zie hoped for. Aerith, at least, seems pleased at having an actual bed to sleep in.

Well, it’s not like zie’s unused to going unappreciated.

But it is, admittedly, nicer than the Inn would be and so the group spread out to claim their own piece of luxury.

Except for her brother whose brow is furrowed, eyes clearer than they have been in weeks.

“What’s wrong, Cloud?” zie asks, once everyone else has left the foyer. They don’t often get time alone–how strange, when that’s how they lived more than half of their lives–and zie’s certain it’s on purpose.

He’s quiet for long enough that Windy thinks maybe he’s just going to ignore hir until he finally asks: “Was that a you thing, or a Turk thing?”

There are no female SOLDIERS.

It’s bullshit, yes, but it’s bullshit couched in enough scientific and legal jargon that some country hoyden isn’t going to change their mind, no matter if zie was top cadet.

But there are female Turks.

And the Turks are certainly interested in a candidate who can keep a secret under scrutiny.

Windy is recruited. Cloud is not.

Maybe that’s where it all went wrong.

Windy’s responding smile isn’t the sharp smirk of Winter or the coy curve of Wendy, it’s small and sad and honest.

“You never did like when I pretended to be other people,” zie says helplessly.

Having witnessed the vacant Cloud and the Cloud that is a vessel for Zack Fair–neither of them hir Cloud–zie finally understands.

~

A/N: Thanks for the prompt, saltykrispycake! I also love Windy, but alas zie does not get much love within Into Thin Air. Perhaps that changes in Unto The Climate? Anyway, I appreciated getting the chance to write more of hir life (even if it is bleak… and repetitive from some earlier ITA ficlets. I really ought to make a cohesive timeline)

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Prompt: Windy Strife interacting with Naruto’s team (especially Kakashi). Outside pov?

A/N: ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ Windy Strife!

~

Unto The Climate, part three (2017-12-08)

The problem with Fuyu Namikaze is that she appeared so publicly.

She is not some spy abducted in the quiet of the night, plausible deniability erasing her existence, or a conspirator whose own paranoid privacy wraps the noose around her neck.

She appeared on the rooftop where the Hokage and Konoha’s most infamous missing-nin were fighting, awakened by the Shinigami itself.

But even if secrecy could be enforced amongst the witnesses–not so unbelievable, given they were mostly ANBU and high ranking shinobi at the scene–she was then brought to the hospital, a screaming, uncontrollable ruckus right there in patient intake.

And while, true, it was just one incident in the midst of already so much chaos–an invasion does not immediately end simply because one side has been defeated–people saw her, spread the news.

People want a hero.

Ibiki shakes his head, considering the woman on the other side of the one-way mirror.

Fuyu Namikaze is not a hero.

But she looks enough like the last one that maybe they can make do.

“Send him in,” he orders, eyes never leaving Namikaze.

“Which one?” Anko asks, irreverent as always–but she’s not wrong: there are two options that Ibiki thinks will give the most information about their guest.

He glances over at his second in command. No doubt she is both celebrating and coping with the death of her former sensei–it’s been a hard couple of weeks for her. She deserves this.

“You choose.”

Windy stares at the cup of tea in hir hands–paper, of course, don’t want to risk giving the prisoner something breakable, something that can produce shards. It really is quite a nice interrogation room: everything soft and subdued and only slightly uncomfortable. Like the ShinRa conference rooms.

Given the number of shifts Winter had tailing the department heads, this is practically his second home. He might very well take a nap.

There’s a soft pulse of magic then a click–the door unlocking. Zie wonders who they’ll send in: the grizzled hard ass to intimidate her or the kindly old man who only wants for her to help him help her?

Frankly, Windy has no idea why they’re trying anything given zie can’t understand a word they’re saying.

The boy who enters is just exactly that: a boy, no older than thirteen–fourteen maybe if he’s the same kind of late bloomer as hir brother–and yet he’s wearing the green flak jacket of a trooper.

Ah, appealing to her emotional side, then.

The boy stares, mouth agape, expression honest and honestly hopeful.

Zie regrets the comparison to hir brother, now. Damn it, they’re good.

Clearly they’re looking for something, so zie might as well give them what they want.

“Sit,” Windy says, which doesn’t prompt anything in the boy until zie gestures to the chair beside hir. Across the table is too distant, reserved for her interrogators, they want to see her be softer, more vulnerable.

The boy sits. He doesn’t stop staring.

Zie’s already reaching for her dull pencil and pad of paper, “Name?” zie asks, writing down the Wutaian character that they used–thankfully that seems to be the same–before sliding both over to the boy.

He writes, trying to maintain visual of hir at the same time which is… some kind of feeling… before returning them.

Maelstrom.

Now that’s a solid Strife name.

Kakashi waits.

What a bizarre thing to do.

Normally he’s the one that people wait for, but not today it seems.

Anko probably did that on purpose. He just waits and watches in the viewing room, his teacher’s son–his student–and his teacher’s… sister? Relative?… interact and it’s doing… something to him.

Yeah, given the smirk on Anko’s face, she definitely did it on purpose.

Ibiki knocks on the glass–Naruto startles, the prisoner doesn’t–signaling time’s up. Kakashi’s mildly surprised: it’s the quietest he’s ever seen Naruto, most people would do a lot for that.

However Naruto, perhaps overly mindful of how new his chuunin status is–or, more likely, feeling self conscious of the casual kindness the woman has shown him–gets up to leave.

But not before the woman reaches out and brushes a hand against his cheek, hand glowing a pale green.

Kakashi can feel his own eye narrow in suspicion.

“What the fuck was that?” Anko spits out, stepping over to where the controls for the room’s seals are, “We’re at level two, she shouldn’t be able to do any jutsu in there.”

Ibiki says nothing before Naruto returns, no doubt eager to claim a spot in front of the one way mirror to resume his staring.

“What did she do to you?” Ibiki asks him, a quick jolt of chakra to disrupt any possible genjutsu.

Naruto, showing his quickly won loyalty–not exactly a good trait, especially in front of the head of T&I–bristles at the accusatory tone. “Nothing, scar-head, she was really nice!”

“She can’t even speak our language,” Anko refutes.

“That doesn’t mean she can’t be nice,” Naruto starts, at which point Kakashi tunes out.

Maybe it was nothing.

Naruto did have a bruise on his face earlier–a yellowing remnant of his fight against Sand’s jinchuuriki–which is no longer there.

Then again, Naruto does have a known healing factor; maybe it was nothing.

“Your turn, Hatake,” Ibiki interrupts, silencing the argument–literally, it just turns into one of stuck out tongues and ugly faces–and adding a simple warning, “Watch yourself.”

Yeah, he doesn’t believe it was nothing either.

Anko remembers the Yondaime vaguely–or, as vaguely as can be done when his face is carved into the mountain overlooking the village–which makes sense given it’s been over a decade and the time before that she had been… well.

That fucking snake bastard, not even an eternity in the Shinigami’s stomach is enough suffering.

She doesn’t have that weird nostalgia about him that some of the other shinobi have, and certainly none of the creepy starry-eyed zeal that the civilians do, but what she remembers of him is probably not the full picture.

Better than that snake bastard could mean anything: kinder, more charismatic, more competent, stronger, smarter, hell even better looking!

(Stone isn’t exactly the best medium for glamour shots, but if Fuyu Namikaze really is so shockingly similar, well. She’s certainly easy on the eyes, is all Anko will say about a current prisoner.)

Definitely a better teacher, that’s for sure, and Anko will never admit to being jealous of Kakashi Hatake but she’d certainly trade if that were an option.

It’s clear Fuyu Namikaze is bringing up all sorts of emotions in that deadened heart of his. Probably this next bit will be more revealing about him than her, but might as well, right?

… except as soon as Kakashi walks through the unlocked door, Fuyu Namikaze bugs the fuck out: face draining of color, feet flat on the ground and retreating as far back as she can get. She makes a motion–grabbing for something on her back that isn’t there, a weapon maybe?–before picking up the chair and chucking it at him.

It’s not much. Chairs aren’t exactly aerodynamic and these ones even less so–weighted to make it harder for prisoners to do shit exactly like this–Kakashi easily shifts out of the way, but it’s clear on the tiny patch of visible expression that he’s confused as fuck.

“Hey, what’s going on?” the brat asks, probably more to make noise than anything else.

It’d be funny except then Fuyu Namikaze’s hands begin to glow, a darker, cooler green–blue, almost–and Ibiki barks, “Level three, now!”

Anko complies, activating the stronger set of seals on the room. Level two prevents jutsu use–or, at least, it should–level three knocks out the inhabitants… or, at least, it should…

Kakashi goes down pretty easily–he’s nearly as famous for chakra exhaustion as he is his Sharingan–but Fuyu Namikaze stays standing for a few more moments, not even puasing, shards of what looks like ice forming around her hand, before she sways once, twice, and falls to the ground.

“Get him out of there!” Ibiki says to the two T&I flunkies guarding the door who immediately jump to obey; then he turns to her and raises an eyebrow.

Anko shrugs, she doesn’t know what he wants her to say. “Yeah, that was fucking bizarre.”

Which isn’t exactly out of line for Fuyu Namikaze.

~

A/N: A longer fill than yesterday, because there were so many ideas I wanted to convey for this prompt, to-someplace-else, and I didn’t even get to the rest of Team Seven so… um… but at least I got the Kakashi and outside!POV parts?

Also, apparently I’m going FULL CANON DIVERGENCE here–Orochimaru’s dead, Naruto became a chuunin, who knows what else I’ll change? So there’s that…

(Also, Ask Box Advent Calendar is on!)

Unto The Climate, part two (2017-03-22)

Fuyu Namikaze is a mystery. An impossibility. A trap?

Perhaps.

Orochimaru had always been simultaneously his most dramatic and most subtle student:

A full scale invasion in the middle of the the chuunin exams, using the reanimated former Hokages as puppets? As showy as ever.

But the months of preparation before that–an entirely new hidden village and not a peep on who the leader is, an alliance with one of the big five (never mind Sand’s fading glory)–all quiet, patient machinations.

Hiruzen knows he has not always been the best at judging those close to him, but he’s certain that it was honest surprise on Orochimaru’s face. Shock and no small amount of fear when the Shinigami reached for the last unopened coffin.

A life for a life, that is currency of gods. Hiruzen is old, far past his prime, has outlived his wife, a child, his successor, and now a student.

But his student was the one who had perverted the laws of nature; his student who the Shinigami had taken in exchange for Fuyu Namikaze.

Perhaps Fuyu Namikaze was a trap, meant to be a different blue eyed blonde resurrected, a psychological attack and indomitable puppet both. But Orochimaru had been too afraid of dying, would never have planned with that possibility in mind.

He hadn’t thought to take the Shinigami into account, and gods do not take well to human hubris.

The student who had wanted immortality was the first to die, the Shinigami leaving Hiruzen untouched once more along with the mysterious, impossible Fuyu Namikaze.

Inoichi is suspicious.

Then again, there is a lot going on for Inoichi to be suspicious of. An invasion from two different villages, Orochimaru’s return, and possible sleeper agents in Konoha’s own forces will do that.

Luckily, there are a few Sound and Sand shinobi who have survived long enough to be given over to T&I’s tender mercies, but Inoichi is retired and that’s not what he’s most suspicious of anyway.

He remembers Minato Namikaze. Remembers how that gentle expression hid the sharpest mind of their age. Remembers how a clanless orphan rose up from nothing and skyrocketed to the top loved and respected by the people.

Fuyu Namikaze is not him. Fuyu Namikaze is a stranger with familiar features and damning genetic similarity to a fallen hero. But like Minato, Fuyu Namikaze understands far more than she lets on, everything hidden behind a passive smile.

But Konoha could use a rallying point in these trying times, and the appearance of a relative (sister?) of their fallen, beloved Yondaime is a good opportunity.

Inoichi waits and watches for Fuyu Namikaze to be worthy.

Jiraiya stands in the wreckage of his home and knows that this is only the beginning.

~

A/N: So I guess this is an Orochimaru-is-dead!AU? Uh… my bad.

Unto The Climate, part one (2017-03-21)

Winter chokes, breath punched out, unable to even cough or speak.

Windy’s last moments:

Sephiroth descending.

Hir own desperate shove at Aerith.

Cloud’s stunned expression–blank and open, as if he could not even begin to understand what he was seeing.

One final gift to hir brother.

Winter’s ultimate duty fulfilled.

Windy dies in a temple below the Forgotten Capital in the place of the Last Ancient.

(The Planet is not ungrateful)

Windy gasps awake, blind and desperately flailing. There are voices around her, but she does not recognize them; Winter cannot understand the language, either.

Hands grip at hir, hold him down.

She screams.

Pressure and warmth–skin on skin contact–before the slickly flowing rush of a spell flows over her.

Sleep.

(You are not finished yet)

The Planet is not ungrateful, but neither is it kind.

Windy’s first moments:

Blinking, placid consciousness. Breathing undeterred.

A room, a bed; bright light and white curtains.

Murmuring, unintelligible voices–but no hands, no magic–no one in sight.

A hospital.

Winter does not bother feigning sleep.

The problem is clear early on. The solution less so.

Winter was taught to understand Wutaian–to read and write and listen–all the better to eavesdrop, all the better to spy.

Windy was never taught how to speak it, the words garbled by her double layered accent: the short country Nibel clip mimicking the drawl of urban Midgar. It would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that whatever these people are using isn’t even proper Wutaian.

He’d assumed some kind of cribbed code at first, but it’s not recurrent enough, too expansive.

And if it were, why would they even try to use it with her?

As it is, zie is lucky body language is universal enough that keeping his hands flat and visible at all times is enough to signal that she has no qualms about these strangers and she is no threat whatsoever.

(Windy did always excel at subterfuge)

They give hir a pencil, noticeably dull, and a paper with a single question.

For this, both Winter and Windy Strife write their truth.

~

A/N: In line with revamping some of my own old fanfic, here is the finally titled Into Thin Air x Naruto series, Unto The Climate Although this one is less a remix and more of a proper chronological writing of it, instead of bouncing around the place with vague ideas. Don’t know how far I’ll go with it, but it’s nice that it has a proper title at least.

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.

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…

Into Thin Air x Naruto ficlet (2016-11-17)

“Fuyu-san,” a voice says, young and hesitant and easily ignored.

Windy isn’t interested in getting involved. Isn’t interested in anything.

“Fuyu-san,” the voice repeats, coming closer, not catching the hint at all.

Zie sighs, shaking out of hir stupor, turning to face her… nephew.

Coloring and spiky hair aside, Naruto doesn’t look much like her brother. Face rounder, skin darker, and while the furrowing of his brows isn’t too far off, it doesn’t suit Naruto’s face.

“U-intaa-san?” Naruto tries, accent stumbling over the pronunciation of Windy’s Turk name.

“Fuyu is okay,” zie assures, hir own accent no doubt odd to his ears. Winter was trained to understand Wutaian, but there didn’t seem to be much use in teaching him how to speak it–no one would believe any version of Windy to be of Wutaian heritage.

And the language of the Elemental Nations isn’t quite Wutaian… not anymore.

Naruto still looks hesitant, and for all that Windy is miserable that doesn’t mean he deserves to be.

She smiles, or tries to, and Naruto gives a shaky smile in return.

Once, Winter was the best actor of the Turks, capable of charming anyone; oh, how the mighty have fallen. (Once, Windy remembers being stabbed through the chest, eyes closing for what should have been the final time.)

“Naruto here, why?” zie asks, gesturing to the sparsely furnished room that is all zie has in this strange place (time).

“Food!” Naruto says with a truer grin, “Ramen!” he clarifies, a little unnecessarily.

Ever since the old man–Ho-ka-ge, zie has to remember–gave them an apartment for two, it seems as if every other meal is ramen. She’d worry about malnutrition, if she cared at all.

Naruto waits, reaching toward her but not touching, letting her decide.

He deserves better than a distant relative who can’t speak properly and needs to be taken care of and doesn’t do anything. He deserves better than Windy.

But fate has never been kind to Strifes, and they’re all each other has.

Zie takes his hand.

Winter’s suit is packed away, too sharp and too cruel for this world of color and brightness. Instead, Windy wears borrowed clothes–ironically enough, it’s still a dark blue uniform.

Though without the green combat vest and the strange metal plate with the symbol of Ko-no-ha, the uniform looks more like pajamas or sweats. Regardless, Naruto beams when she emerges from her room, and rattles off a sentence too quick for her to understand.

Zie thinks maybe it was a compliment, or an attempt at one, something about looking like a shinobi.

Shinobi, Windy understands, is what the military call themselves. Ninja is the term civilians use.

On their way to the ramen stand, Windy catches flickers of movement in hir peripheral vision–black cloaks and bone white masks–and wonders what those hidden guards are called.

Naruto continues to chatter, heedless of whether zie is understanding, much less responding. His facial expressions and wild hand gestures are far more engaging than his words, from what zie can interpret he’s talking about fighting someone who is grumpy.

As they near the ramen stand, Naruto calls out, a greeting to his team.

Windy tries not to freeze in place.

Sephiroth, the silver hair warns her. Murderer, run away, Sephiroth.

Hir steps do not falter.

Naruto rushes ahead to take a seat beside his female teammate, splitting his time between fawning over her and ordering a bowl, which somehow leaves the only free seat next to his teacher.

He does not do Windy the discourtesy of turning around and watching, but she can still sense a vibe of attentiveness as she meets the challenge.

“Miso please,” Windy says to Ichiraku-san, and waits for the other shoe to drop.

~

A/N: Uuum… my brain is still mostly in Naruto mode, but I stumbled on some FFVII stuff and I ended up with this?

Oh, snap! It’s been over a year since I touched the Into Thin Air tag.

So… uh, have some depressed and paranoid and traumatized Windy Strife?

Post Word Count: 619, Running Word Count: 6363