What are you doing, and at what place? Are you somewhere under that endless sky?

Writing journal has moved!

2009-06-22T15:09:47Z

MOVED.

Now @ swinub!

If you have added this journal, de-friend it and add swinub!

Tenipuri Fanfic: Tenipuri as a Taiwanese Basketball drama [Part A]

2009-06-09T15:13:11Z

Author: nerrin
Rating: C for Crack
Character/Pairing(s): Seigaku, Hyotei, Rikkaidai, Shitenhouji [Part A feat. Shiraishi, Kenya and Seigaku]
Prompt: Tenipuri as a Taiwanese basketball drama.

Court A -- Hyotei
Court B -- Seigaku
Court C -- Rikkaidai
Court D -- Shitenhouji

+++

Court B:

Today was an once-in-a-lifetime gathering of giants -- Kenya knew that much, at least. He’d been wrestling with most of them for a good part of his youth and even being with his own team was threatening to wear away at his non-existent nerves. Zaizen had also similarly confessed his woes but alas, today’s covet mission was not to do with his kohai’s sanity. Today’s mission was scouting, or so Shiraishi had so decently put it.

“Concentrate,” Shiraishi whispered conspiringly to an unconvinced-this-was-even-gonna-work Kenya, snapping his fingers impatiently in front of his friend’s face. “We have a match to watch.” Kenya bit down the urge to chomp down hard on Shiraishi’s slender fingers.

The courts were well-oiled, well-ventilated, well-lit and well-maintained, in overall. The floor was shining, more sparkly than Chitose had ever been. Scores of people hunkered over today’s program sheet, already seated in place. God knew why the match started in Court B instead of Court A, but it was supposed that this year’s favorite for the championship, Seishun Gakuen (a.k.a Seigaku, as they were known), got first priority. More priority than the reigning champions, Rikkaidai. Kenya reckoned the whole thing was propaganda set up by Rikkai’s Yanagi to make the team seem better at mopping the floor with their opponents.

Order was key. Seigaku’s rivals had arrived, some other team from some other district. Kenya whistled between his teeth and Shiraishi sighed in his seat. The two had chosen a pair right at the edge of the rails separating the courts from the spectators for a clearer view, and Shiraishi was gripping at the rail in front of them, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“No competition,” Kenya drawled, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back. “They just lost the game.”

Shiraishi chuckled, soft and low. Kenya liked how he always did it like that. “You can tell already?”

“As if you can’t,” he shot back, quirking an eyebrow at his captain. The other boy turned his unwavering gaze from the courts to look at him, and smiled. It was one of those confident, I-knew-I-could-do-it smiles that gave Shiraishi his reputation as a complete bastard when really, he wasn’t.

“True, that.”

---

The match had already started by the time Kenya stopped daydreaming about food to take a closer look at the courts. He didn’t like wasting this bird’s-eye view of his potential rivals and their asses. It was actually quite amusing watching their asses. They moved across the court at light-speed. They bounced. They did all sorts of things.

Shiraishi took a good long stare at Kenya. His friend had a tendency to look absolutely adorable when immersed or fascinated by something and god knew exactly what Kenya was thinking with that devious little smile on his face. Ah, well, interrogation later, scouting now. It was all Osamu’s fault, really. Nagashi Soumen was starting to become to the Shitenhouji regulars what Inui’s juices were to Seigaku’s.

“Ah, look,” Kenya piped up. “There’s Seigaku’s dataman with his data-basketball thing again. Apparently they say he can analyze your stats so well, he moves as though he’s reading your mind.”

As though right on cue, Inui Sadaharu wove through the last remaining lines of opposing defense and tossed the ball right into the basket with ease, as though having calculated all this already. Shiraishi nodded his acknowledgement of the man’s abilities. “He’s good, but Chitose’s the one who can really read minds.”

“Like how he magically knew Kin-chan was gonna barf halfway through practice yesterday.”

“Soooomething like that.”

Kenya snorted, turning back to the match in front of them. “I think Chitose just fed him something, though.”

“Oh, that’s enough from you. Check out Seigaku’s Golden Pair.”

“You mean those two?,” Kenya muttered. “Sometimes I swear they’re gayer than Koharu and Yuuji.”

Shiraishi shrugged his assent. “Hyotei’s Silver Pair is stiff competition.”

“You don’t say!”

Kenya flailed a little with his arms, before pointing at the courts. “Look at ‘em Synchro, it’s like they’re possessed or something!”

Seigaku was leading, (about 15-0 already) in that short a time. Kenya whistled. The pressure was on Shitenhouji to beat their little record. Then Seigaku’s Golden Pair seemed to fly across the courts with their mad moves – they synchro’d, Oishi Moon-volley’d (which was more of an epic scoop-shot than some volley) and –

“Jesus fucking Christ, did that Kikumaru guy just duplicate himself!?”

“Well,” Shiraishi nudged Kenya, “You can always triplicate yourself.”

“That’s very nice of you.”

“You’re faster. Generally speaking.”

“Why, thank you.”

The rest of the game flew by. It was like watching porcupines on steroids play against drunk pufferfish with bad cases of heroin overdose. Seigaku completely dominated the first half of the game despite being stuck at a standstill for quite some time before breaking through with Momoshiro’s Dunk Smash, which seemed more a tennis maneuver than a basketball one, but it took all sorts. Then Kaidoh proceeded to take Inui’s part of being the Control Tower away from him, passing the ball left and right to his teammates using a curved snake-shot (God knew how he saw around everyone but he did) that always seemed just out of their opponents’ reach.

But the game was far from over – the second half had yet to commence and Seigaku was leading by only about 20 points, Kenya mused. Their opponents could actually manage to take the game from them if they weren’t careful.

Kenya needn’t have worried. Seigaku seemed to be pulling out all the big guns this season, and out onto the field stepped their top three superhumans – Fuji Syuusuke, Echizen Ryoma, and finally, one Tezuka Kunimitsu whose presence was so awe-inducing that it shut the whole stadium up the moment he stepped onto the courts.

“Don’t let your guard down!” he yelled, before a quick ‘Osu!’ from the team. Seigaku was ready to go.

“I didn’t think he’d be showing his face this soon,” Shiraishi said. “This’ll be more interesting to watch.”

Kenya didn’t even spare him a moment of hesitation. “Everyone loves Tezuka, apparently. Well, everyone except you, maybe. Check out how obsessed half the other teams are with the poor boy. He’s only fifteen, for the love of god.”

“Jealous?”

“More like weirded out.”

“Oh, check out Fuji-kun’s Triple Counters.”

Kenya grunted. “Good way to change the topic.”

But indeed those Triple Counters were a sight to behold:

There was Higuma Otoshi, a swift move that intercepted any pass from the opponents, successfully messing up their routes and enabling Fuji to get away with the ball. Also was Hakugei, a strange sort of pass that involved rotating wrists, sending the ball to the boundaries of the court and giving his opponents a sense of security because everyone would naturally think that such a dangerous pass would just roll out. But no! With Hakugei, the ball simply bounded back to Fuji and again he would be allowed to run through the gaps created in his enemy’s mental defenses.

Then Tsubame Gaeshi, which was –

“Hold on a fucking second, isn’t that illegal!?”

“I’m not sure,” Shiraishi shrugged. “The ball rolls then gets picked up – isn’t that what Tsubame Gaeshi is, essentially?”

“But the move looks like he’s bowling the damn ball.”

“Which isn’t a problem unless the wrong dude picks it up, Kenya.”

“I don’t understand this anymore.”

“Neither do I.”

And so the game continued. Fuji strutted his stuff on the oiled courts, Echizen showed off and nearly got manhandled by the opposing team after his tenth ‘mada mada dane’, Momoshiro displayed exhibitionist tendencies, Kaidoh flaunted his ass all over the court, Inui’s glasses glinted in the sunlight and the Golden Pair reveled in their awesome.

Then there was Tezuka. In the final five minutes of the match, he finally gave up trying to pretend that his elbow was still injured (a fact Shiraishi noted, and Kenya also put in that the only person who could pretend successfully as such was actually Rikkaidai’s Niou) and started to give the audience a reason as to why he was Seigaku’s former Pillar of Support.

“There it is!” Kenya and Shiraishi both heard the announcer blare out through the loudspeakers. “The Tezuka Zone!”

They turned their eyes to the court. Shiraishi looked quite frankly impressed, though Kenya not quite so. “The fuck is that?”

“It’s a move where the balls always go his way.”

“How?”

Shiraishi hemmed and hawed for some time before replying. “Something about top-spin and rotating his arm.”

“How the HELL does that even work!?”

Kenya facepalmed. And through the sting in his forehead, he doubted the sanity of the world. “The Tezuka Zone,” he mumbled. “How does having balls attracted to you help in scoring?”

Shiraishi leant over and tugged Kenya back up from his slumped position in his seat. “It’s like a super-magnet, see? The spin is so powerful anyone that tries to intercept the shot will have the ball slip out of his hands and roll back.”

“That’s only because their fingers suck.”

Shiraishi rolled his eyes. “It takes all sorts.”

“Crazy world.”

To be continued in Part B.

Oh, by the way, Seigaku won 87-30. Bench: Kawamura.

[10 words Drabble Meme(s)] [APH, KHR, Original, etc.]

2009-05-07T10:56:13Z

10 Words Or Less Fanfic Meme

Author: nerrin
Write 10 different categories of fic, each in 10 words or less.

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Germany, Prussia, Austria
Rating: G, mostly.
Warnings: Genres are extremely confused.

1) Angst
He couldn't let him go. Not yet. (Or he'd forget.)

2) AU
The exams were nigh and even Roderich felt like dying.

3) Crack
"Is this supposed to mean pot or bullshit?"

"How 'bout both?"

4) Crossover
"So I heard you like Mudkips?"

Gilbert blinks. "Not really."

5) First Time [Germany/Russia]
Ludwig only remembers the curious sensation of fighting for air.

6) Fluff [Exceeds.]
So many words, so little time.

I love you.

So many questions.

7) Humor [Snark?]
Austria wrinkles his nose as Prussia blanches. "Oh, how quaint."

8) Hurt/Comfort
Get up, Gilbert commands. No one dies on my watch.

9) Smut
They didn't need a reason. Never did. It was enough.

10) UST
Dear ~~West~~ ~~Germany~~ Ludwig, on some days, I just fucking hate you.

Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Hibari + Mukuro + Others
Rating: G?
Warnings: BLEH.

1) Angst
He doesn't care. He just doesn't care.

2) AU [Whee, I exceed.]
Maybe in a distant land in a distant place in a distant time, they could have been able to love.

3) Crack
One day, he might just wake up as a Pokemon.

4) Crossover
"You're God!?"

"Why not?"

5) First Time
He could've sworn this felt familar.

6) Fluff
~~Nothing was written.~~

7) Humor [Exceeds!]
"Not amused."

Mukuro sighs. Twirls a random lock of hair. "I know."

8) Hurt/Comfort
Mukuro thinks if he cares, then he's doing it wrong.

9) Smut
Mukuro was a man of many whims.

10) UST
He still had a score to settle.

Fandom: Original [N0vel + My Boyfriend is a Girl + Makers of Eden]
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Kaine & Lucas & Kou [N0vel], Yukimura + Kiou [MBIAG], Ootani + Rokuro [Makers of Eden]
Rating: G
Warnings: OC. THIS YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND.

1) Angst [Ootani/Rokuro]
For the longest time, Rokuro has wondered without answers.

2) AU [Kaine + Kou]
"We're in the same class!?"

Kou groans. "Oh, fuck."

3) Crack [Lucas + Kou]
"Hey, d'you suppose I can sparkle too?"

"No, you'd die."

4) Crossover [Yukimura + Kiou ~ Kaichou-wa Maid-sama!]
"You should wrestle Usui," Misaki declares.

Yukimura snorts. "And win."

5) First Time [Kaine/Lucas]
It was anything but smooth and everything like awkward.

6) Fluff [Ootani/Rokuro]
"Fucking hell." Ootani takes a deep breath. "...I love you."

7) Humor [Ootani + Rokuro]
"Ootani Kuranosuke," -- Rokuro is aghast -- "Your house is a dump."

8) Hurt/Comfort [Yukimura/Kiou] - Exceeds!
"Not for them," she spits. Her tone is harsh. Her eyes are livid. "For you."

9) Smut [Kaine/Lucas]
He just kisses the devil, and takes him in.

10) UST [Yukimura + Kiou]
One day, she swears, There will be blood.

[Kubo Tite + Kishimoto Masashi] [Fanfiction!]

2009-04-16T13:05:07Z

In case you missed it. Located at iween; JOIN AND WATCH for future updates because I won't be advertising anymore. Mostly. It's a community for this BIG AU I have for the Shonen Mangaka. YOU CAN SHIP THEM, TOO.

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Shonen Mangaka AU
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Kishimoto, Kubo
Warning(s): This is insane.
Summary: Waking up in the mornings, among other quirks of living together.

(Under One Roof.)

[Random Art] Art Dump - MESSY.

2009-03-15T09:31:54Z

Artist: nerrin
Fandom: Original series 'Makers of Eden', Random
Rating: G
Warning(s): Messy, and my art is blah.

Would-be cover for an insane OC series. Rough Draft.

And here be the characters:

Shigure Sekiyou ^ [LULZY BASTARD WITH MAD HAIR. Will have to adjust character design a little.]

Li Xin Er ^ [His hair changes orz.]

Huang Min Jun ^ [And the main character of this series, eh. Crazy girl.]

= More Random Crap =

Larger Version ^

75% and 100% zoom.

75% and 100% zoom.

[Hetalia Fanfiction] Lifetimes to come [1/5]

2009-03-10T14:48:26Z

Title: Lifetimes to Come [Part 1 of 5]
Author: nerrin
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing(s): Hong Kong & China, AU!Germany & Prussia
Warning(s): OOC. First time writing for Hetalia. AU. Does not make sense historically. I'm out of practice; I haven't written in four months. May or may not be horrendously hilarious.
Summary: A collection of two-by-two music drabbles. Part One; Hong Kong returns home & the German brothers fight.

+++++

= Dear You (Vocal) by Yuduki =

+++++

“How does it feel to be back?”

Hong Kong stares at China’s expectant expression, gaze empty and hollow and indifferent like he was brought up by that man to be.

That man. England.

He wonders if China – dear China – still hated the Englishman for what he did. For taking him away.

Or if China hated himself, for letting the boy go.

“It’s…nice,” Hong Kong replies, simply. He wasn’t one for words; never was.

“…Oh,” China laughs, and something twinges in Hong Kong’s heart at the slight, wavering tremor in the country’s voice. “Oh. Then it’s fine.”

He didn’t do anything to you?

Hong Kong’s breath hitches and breathing alone is painful, but he forces himself to go on. “He’s a nice man,” he says, but something in China’s eyes told him the country believed otherwise. And it was true. Somewhat.

“His cooking may be horrendous, he can’t multitask to save his life, he tries to interfere too much – but he’s a nice man.”

China smiles, as though wanting to believe in Hong Kong’s simple words. But there were still doubts, questions, and suspicions – Hong Kong knows, just as he knows how China wants him to understand why he cannot trust the man that brought him up.

Still, he’s back now, and it was all that mattered.

“Welcome back,” China says, through the sudden tears in his eyes; blinks, trying to bid them away. Welcome back, Hong Kong.

“Yeah,” Hong Kong allows himself to be smothered in a warm, albeit teary hug by the older country. China’s little body is warm against his; frail but powerful, old and familiar, and then he’s hit with an unexpected pang of nostalgia. He’s missed this, being a part of China’s family.

Hong Kong’s blank expression crumbles and he breaks into a wan smile, burying his face in China’s silky black hair.

It smelt of home.

END.

+++++

= Something in your Mouth by Nickelback =

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WARNING.

+++++

“And why do you care?” Gilbert spits, lip curled and clenched fists shaking, nails digging angry red crescents in pale skin. “What I do is none of your business, isn’t it?”

“But this is insane,” Ludwig growls, tempted to grab his brother by the neck and throttle the life out of the man. “You can’t go off and do all that; you’re just --”

“Eighteen’s damn well legal and you know that, Ludwig.”

Something in Ludwig shrinks back on reflex, then springs back ten times harder; he’s afraid he might snap, because there’s something akin to a coiling snake slithering about the pits of his stomach already – then he does, and the next thing Ludwig knows is that he’s tackled Gilbert to the floor (stacks of paper go flying, as do many other unsorted objects) and he’s on the smaller man, strong hands pinning his brother to the ground…

…By his neck, and Gilbert is choking and gasping desperately for breath, clawing at Ludwig’s grip, face scrunched up in anger. “Fuck you,” he manages to squeeze out of his failing windpipe. “Fuck you, and fuck how you don’t give a shit.”

“You don’t have to do it this way,” Ludwig releases Gilbert and watches his brother glower up at him from underneath, the beginning of angry tears springing up in the corners of blazing maroon eyes. He wants to scream and cry, but there’s a maddeningly in-control side to him that just would not be broken. “This isn’t solving anything. You’ll just be causing more problems for us.”

“Says the man who got us into this mess in the first place,” Gilbert laughs – bitterly – his breath rattling and voice hoarse.

Ludwig forces down his anger – wishes his brother wouldn’t be so needlessly difficult – and finds that beneath his rage he has nothing left: just tiredness and weariness; he’s too drained to think anymore. So he just pries himself off his brother sprawled on the floor, and watches quietly as Gilbert sits up, gingerly massaging the angry red welts forming on his neck, the color harsh against pallid skin.

The only sound that passes between the both of them for a moment is their breathing, heavy and ragged.

Gilbert hefts himself to his feet, wobbling unsteadily before gaining his bearings, then starts picking his way through the organized mess of their shared room, a hand still held over his sore neck. He stops at the doorway, slumping against the frame, back to Ludwig.

“I don’t care what you tell me,” he says, and his voice is harsher, angrier, sadder. Ludwig fixes his gaze on his brother – once so proud, so defiant; and such a person should never have had to stoop down to this level. “If you’re not going to save our family, I am.”

It was his problem. His problem. Gilbert didn’t have to get involved.

Ludwig wants to do something. Anything.

Say that he would fix it on his own. That he would get Feliciano and Kiku to help him right the wrongs. That he’d ask Roderich for help, because the man always came through somehow. And even then, there was still Alfred and Arthur and Francis and Yao. If things had to come down to it he’d beg Ivan, even, no matter how much he disliked the man.

But there was nothing he could do.

Not anymore.

END.

Painting Attempts & Manga Coloring [Hetalia; Otomen]

2009-03-04T14:34:46Z

Artist: nerrin
Fandom: Hetalia, Otomen, OC
Rating: G
Warning(s): First attempts to paint & color manga, so pfft to you. ):

Larger Version. ^

75% and 100% zoom. ^

And thus concludes the showcase which proves that I cannot paint. I'll improve, though.

Colored HK twice, because...I tried coloring differently. Meh. And I like the dude, so there.

Larger Version here. ^ I have a larger one on my computer, though.
I cannot color flowers. I'm lazy. D: Sorry for failing?
And I apologize to whoever scanned this, I just took it off Mangafox. .__.

[Art Dump] - Hetalia sketches & Originals

2009-02-21T16:02:01Z

Artist: nerrin
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Prussia, Japan, OC
Warning(s): VERY messy sketches, very strange anatomy, abuse of effects etc. OTL.

Newest to Oldest:

I still cannot draw Gilbert. Damn him.

All hail the mighty EFFECT ABUSE. Why is there so much pink. And lol anatomy fail.

Larger Version here.

So apparently it's supposed to be a poster-thing of sorts. Bleh this is OLD and the third thing I drew when I got my tablet. Still cannot do backgrounds dammit. Dude's Invidia, by the way. Details maybe later.

To chrystallis

2009-02-10T13:52:53Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Varia Ensemble
Warning(s): OOC; AND THIS MAKES NO SENSE. Works on the assumption that Mammon is Fran's Master.
Summary: Varia Interaction, among other Varia-tastic things.

+

It vaguely resembled a frog.

(Only vaguely.)

“Why…?” Fran holds up the huge thing – a hat, he presumes, about four times the size of his head – and stares at it dubiously. A pair of huge, unblinking artificial eyes return his gaze. “Must I wear this, senpai?”

Belphegor snorts, filing a fingernail (too intently) with one of his little knives. “How should I know?”

“But you were the one who said -”

“I don’t know,” Belphegor looks up at points the sharp edge of his weapon at Fran, who flinches in surprise. “Ask anymore, and I’ll rip you up. I’m in a bad mood.”

Fran grits his teeth, turning away from his senpai and his grip tightens on the hat as he stuffs it back onto his head. It’s heavy. It hurt his neck just to keep his head from drooping.

“Senpai,” Fran says (they’re in the main corridor, getting ready to leave, and Fran’s busy calculating how long they’ll be away this time; because the last had been far too long), and he glances at his partner over his shoulder. Belphegor eyes him venomously, through a curtain of messy golden hair.

“I don’t understand.”

“’Course not, you’re just a fucking baby,” Squalo gripes, rushing past the both of them (he pokes at Fran’s hat with the edge of his sword as he passes and the latter stumbles from the force), long (almost silver) strands of hair trailing behind him.

Squalo boots the main entrance to the mansion open. “Oi, fucking useless assbags!” he screams, and the harsh sound reverberates through the halls and rooms of the building. Belphegor claps both hands over his ears and Fran watches on impassively – the hat is more than enough to muffle the noise.

“Levi! Lussuria! Get your asses down here!” Squalo yells, and shakes an angry fist at the ceiling. “What the hell are you two doing!?”

Belphegor laughs and giggles like an asylum escapee and Fran sighs, wondering how on earth he had managed to get himself involved with all of these rather insane acquaintances.

“If it weren’t for my master, I wouldn’t be here in the first place,” he mutters, sticking both hands into the pockets of his coat. (Fran isn’t grateful. Oh no.)

“And whaaaat about your master?”

Fran’s head jerks up with a start and Belphegor is no more than an inch away, sneering into his face (and Squalo is yelling. Still yelling), breath warm and muggy. Fran grits his teeth and tells himself to bear with it; bear with it, senpai is crazy and fucked up and a complete moron and -

“Bel-senpai,” Fran breathes, not trusting his voice to be steady enough to speak at a normal volume, “Don’t treat me as a replacement for my master.”

Belphegor sniffs haughtily, and waves a knife threateningly into Fran’s face. “Like hell, you’re even less cute than that little blob ever was; how can you replace him?”

Fran stares, his gaze blank and unblinking. “I know my master was a baby, but he wasn’t a…blob.”

“Don’t say that,” Belphegor whirls around and Fran has no time to react when he’s shoved to the ground and Belphegor is looming over him, face stretched taut in one of his dangerous, dangerous grins that promised nothing.

The so-called ‘Prince’ bends down and pokes Fran’s forehead with the edge of the knife he’s holding. “Mammon isn’t a baby,” he states, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and even Squalo pauses his shouting to stare incredulously at Belphegor.

Fran stays put on the floor, because he figures he’d be a lot more comfortable seated than standing. He notes how Belphegor seems rather miffed about him calling Mammon a ‘baby’.

…You mean he wasn’t one?

“Then, senpai, what exactly was my master?” Fran raises an eyebrow, and Belphegor scowls at him like a teacher exasperated with his Idiot Batch of Grade Five students.

Then he grins.

“A maaaaaagical baby, of course,” he says.

Squalo splutters.

Fran felt like dying.

“Oh, Squalo!” someone calls from the above floor and Squalo snaps his head back to the ceiling.

“Whaaat!? Lussuria, can you just fucking hurry up?”

“Not that!” Lussuria whines. “It’s Xanxus; he wants -”

Squalo scowls. “If it’s about the fucking beef fillet, I already had the goddamned thing imported!” (Of course Squalo’d remember importing it. Communing with a bull had been very hard on him, and a scar still remained where the animal had kicked him in the face.)

“But I can’t find it anywhere!” Lussuria protests, and Squalo promptly feels like throttling something, anything. He settles for flailing his arms around in rage.

“Well, go fucking search for it!”

“Oh, beef fillet?” Belphegor looks up, still crouched on the carpeted floor. “You mean that slimy red thing?”

Squalo raises an eyebrow. “…Oi. Did you see it anywhere?”

Belphegor scratches his chin in a pose of mock contemplation. “Ah,” he exclaims, and it’s Fran’s turn to raise an eyebrow at his senpai. “I fed it to the geese in the backyard.”

(Personally, Fran found himself more amazed at the presence of geese in the backyard.)

The two were subjected to a very interesting show when Squalo first turned red, then a delicate shade of purple.

“You fucking brat,” Squalo spluttered, “I’ll -”

“What?” Belphegor sounds genuinely surprised as he gets to his feet. “It’s alright, isn’t it?”

“Senpai,” Fran sighs, as Squalo is still raging about the thousand and one Insanely-Vulgar-things-He’d-do-to-that-Fucking-Prince. “I don’t think that was very ‘alright’ of you.”

“What,” Belphegor sulks. “I’m a Prince, so it’s fine.”

“Of course, senpai. I’m sure it was obvious.”

“Like hell that’ll solve anything!” Squalo yells. “You two, get the fuck out before I chop you up.”

Fran sighs, getting to his feet. Squalo was probably going to look for Lussuria and Levi to find a way to appease their Boss.

And why did he agree to join such an insane organization anyway?

(The moment he’d enlisted, Fran was about certain he was doomed and he had been right.)

For the lulz, Fran assures himself, watching his senpais squabble amongst themselves. For the lulz.

Now, if only he could bring himself to believe that.

END.

NARUTO SHIPPUDDEN: True End [Fanfic]

2009-02-10T13:38:40Z

Written for caustic_tempest.

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Naruto - It's been ages and this is what I come up with? Shameless.
Rating: PG-13 for strange CRACK.
Character/Pairing(s): Sakura + Sasuke + Naruto. Somewhat.
Warning(s): OOC; too much bullshit to handle. Please take note that this is CRACK. And a huge crapload of it, too. HIGHLY ANTICLIMAX.
Summary: Sasuke has finally stormed Konoha! This is the imaginary – HIGHLY insane – ending to the Epic Saga that is Naruto Shippudden! Cliché yet retarded shonen abounds!

+

Konoha lay in ruins.

All around her, Sakura could only see death and destruction for as far as the naked eye allowed. Once grand buildings that housed families lay like broken and discarded toys – crumbling to pieces, chunks taken out from the infrastructure, and many a wall had collapsed. The bodies of fallen shinobi lay everywhere – strewn across the street in a messy fashion, corpses draped over some buildings, and others even impaled. And these were just the better ones of the lot.

Some had lost miscellaneous parts of their bodies – dismembered limbs stuck out from piles of rubble and wire, still bleeding and staining the dusty stone a fresh shade of red. Other corpses couldn’t even begin to resemble corpses at all – they appeared as if they had exploded from within, splattering blood and flesh all over the place.

The dry, dusty air stung her parched throat every time she tried to inhale, and it hurt to even breathe. Fatigue was taking a toll on her – fighting her way out from Konoha’s center had been no easy feat through the chaos. Before she had single-handedly taken down the one called Karin, she had already sustained major injuries from when the roof of the hospital suddenly collapsed without any warning. (Sakura had tried to save those around her with her strength, granted. But protecting that many people around her at one go meant having to get herself injured first. She didn’t particularly mind.)

But she, for all her efforts, still couldn’t save everyone.

Konoha had near been razed to the ground by Sasuke. He had taken advantage of Pein’s previous arrival. It made his job of ‘exterminating Konoha’ easier. This time, more innocent families had gotten caught in the crossfire and perished.

Naruto, furious, had ignored Tsunade completely and stormed out to challenge Sasuke one-on-one. Sakura had chased after him – because Tsunade told her to – and it had all amounted to…this.

Naruto, for all his prowess when it came to ‘sage chakra’ or any of his techniques, was no match for Sasuke’s evolved Sharingan.

Sakura knelt by the teenager, frantically trying to heal all of his wounds in time before Sasuke could advance any further towards them. But her own chakra was already dangerously low –she couldn’t afford to waste any of it.

At least Naruto had worn Sasuke down significantly – from the looks of things, Sakura reckoned that he had at least five broken ribs, his left shoulder was dislocated, and he had probably broken something in his right leg. Sasuke was also bleeding from a nasty-looking wound torn right across his now-exposed chest, face caked with dirt and sweat. Though his cold, black eyes seemed almost expressionless, Sakura could tell that even he was already worn out from doing battle with Naruto.

Sasuke continued walking towards them, sword by his side and limping, sandals dragging across the sandy road, creating a rather sinister susurrus, like the wild rippling through a forest, only scratchier. Every step he took increased the panic and confusion in Sakura’s mind. Why is he doing this? Didn’t the three of us use to be part of Team Seven together? I knew he wanted power; I know he’s already turned away from us – but what happened to turn him into this?

Sakura leapt to her feet, planting herself squarely in front of Naruto, whom was still in the process of recovering. “I won’t let you hurt anyone anymore!” she yelled, balling her fists. Her fingernails would’ve already carved angry little crescents into her own skin from the force she was applying to them, if not for the presence of her brown gloves.

“How dare you do that to Naruto, and Konoha! You’ve destroyed homes, killed innocent families and children, and you’ve caused complete and utter chaos. Why on earth do you hate Konoha so much now, Sasuke?”

“They fucked up my family,” he spat, eyes hard and cold, voice bleeding hatred. “The elders, your stupid council…all of them are the corrupted ones here.”

Sakura took one look at his expressionless face and flew into a silent mental rage. She couldn’t believe that this guy used to be their teammate, their comrade, and – he had even helped both her and Naruto out at times, too. It used to be so fun just hanging out together, all three of us and Kakashi-sensei. Now…

“Even so!” she cried. “You have no right to bring down upon innocent civilians what you think ought to be dealt to the people who caused your clan to suffer. Do you know how much pain and suffering you’ve caused all those not involved in your petty little feud?”

“I don’t care,” Sasuke said, calm and composed.

Sakura gritted her teeth. She could feel the battle coming, for the tension in the dusty air between them was suffocating. Though the rest of Sasuke’s little crew had been taken down, and he was the only one left – it was still dangerous for her to be fighting him.

And she couldn’t believe what she was about to say.

Sakura pointed a finger at Sasuke, who merely narrowed his eyes.

“If you dare wreck anymore havoc on Konoha, I…” Whatever, just say it! “I’ll cut off your balls!”

Sasuke unsheathed his sword and took a single step forward as Sakura prepared herself for the confrontation.

“Go ahead and try.”

END.

+

(Epilogue? LOL okay, just a summary.)

Sakura cuts off Sasuke’s balls. He falls down, defeated. She runs over to heal Naruto. When he wakes up, she gives one of the balls to him as a spoils-of-war of sorts. Naruto treats it like a souvenir from the battle.

Sasuke, (finally) seeing the error of his ways, shaves his head bald and becomes a monk to repent, running off to a monastery far away.

Five years later, he returns to Konoha, having atoned for his sins. He returns blind because he claims that he’ll never forgive himself if he didn’t at least ‘atone’ by giving something. (Secretly glad he didn’t have to commit seppuku a.k.a ritual suicide by slitting one’s stomach.)

Sasuke takes up a job as a cook at Ichiraku Ramen. He discovers that Naruto has already become the Hokage, loved by all in the village for being a hero. Sakura has become a well-established medical-nin.

Naruto, after discovering Sasuke has returned, visits Ichiraku Ramen regularly, as does Sakura.

The three of them lived happily ever after. The end.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“…And that was how it all ended,” Naruto thus concluded his tale, holding up (and pointing to) one of Sasuke’s balls Sakura had given him after the Epic Battle, the entire hall of little aspiring ninjas-in-training listening to their Hokage’s life story, enraptured.

TRUE END.

A/N: This is retarded. Sorry, Sasuke. Man, I don't even hate you at all. And this was a combination of my and a friend's idea, okay. D:

Hetalia Sketch Dump

2009-02-09T14:18:43Z

Artist: nerrin
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia
Rating: G
Warnings: Messy doodles, completely random coloring (I just slapped it on wtf) and one GIRL!Iceland. And hardly any reference used [thus, mistakes aplenty].
Notes: Lol I have absolutely no idea how to Photoshop, forgive me. Kinda explains the lack of a preview, eh.

P.S: I do not understand people who say drawing with the tablet is easier than by hand. ;__; *fails*

Uhm pardon the messy & lazy sketches/coloring/LOL EFFECT SPAM.

From Oldest to Newest:

...So I just gave them random costumes OTL. Sorry, Taiwan. I swear I'll improve for you. ;A;

Bigger Version without text. Messier, too. And don't ask me what I'm doing.

Bigger & Messier Version. ...Holyshit whatdidIdoahaha.

Forgive me if I did anything wrong, OTL.

[KHR] In Vino Veritas; Prologue

2009-01-14T12:46:58Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Vongola Ensemble
Warning(s): OOC. And I'm pretty much testing this style out...? Also, possible spoilers and I mess with canon.
Summary: Ten years later, and the Vongola has to be saved. How many sacrifices will they be willing to make?

+

In Vino Veritas; In wine, there is truth.

+

Because – from where they now stand - that man is our only hope.

Autumn rolls around like the steady passing of time and cool winds begin to grace the land, swimming through the multicolored leaves like a susurrus through a rustling maze of bold orange and red. On this land, all life is quiet, and the only things to grace the evening skies are the faint glimmers of the first stars at night. Here, where silence hangs and danger lurks like an undercurrent of poison beneath a wellspring of clarity.

Gokudera doesn’t like it when it rains, come autumn, because the last time it did (last year) more than half the family had come down with colds. Now they were susceptible to the flu bugs once more. But this year, pneumonia isn’t why he hates autumn so much; he hates the season because why is everything changing, damn it? (They weren’t supposed to do this. They weren’t supposed to.)

Even if he hates the man.

Even if he wants to have nothing to do with him.

This was too cruel.

Gokudera buries his face in his arms, and spits out the cigarette left unlit in his mouth.

Even underground he can hear the rain battering down on the land, carving away at the earth, and Gokudera imagines every last droplet to be something of resistance. They batter at glass-paneled windows and hurl themselves so vigorously onto anything in their descending path. Yet when tomorrow comes there will be nothing left, the sun bright and shining and golden in their wake of gray.

So very futile, their last howls of protest.

Yamamoto looks as though he’s being torn apart from the inside but Gokudera can’t blame the man. They each sit across the other - storm and rain, so closely connected yet still so far apart. What separates the two will always be a gap unable to be filled.

“I’m sorry,” Tsuna manages, and it’s all he can say because his voice is collapsing and his windpipe feels as though it’s been crushed. Oh, Tsunayoshi. All sleek leather and shiny pins with a resolution of fire but eyes still so empty; so uncertain.

“It was either her or all of us,” Hibari speaks up, from the other end of the room, and there is no conviction left in his voice.

Hibari does not know ‘emotion’; he only knows placidity and anger. (You, who have not lost anything to the world, will never know what it means to have the ground pulled out from beneath your feet, to feel so much despair that it starts seeping like spider poison from inside. It rises like bile in your throat, choking as you gurgle and gasp for breath.)

“We’ve agreed,” Chrome pushes her chair aside as she stands, proud and strong. Grim determination burns in her eyes; a quiet sort of flame but still there, nonetheless. Her hands ghost over the tiny stack of plastic files laid out before her. She picks them up, ready to leave. “I was going to expire sooner or later.”

Hibari turns away and Yamamoto meets Gokudera’s solemn gaze and Gokudera can tell that he knows Dokuro is right; the Vongola don’t have many choices left. (But how is she willing to do this?)

Tsuna throws Chrome a look, imploring. (He’s begging her to say something, anything.)

(But he knows he has to do this.)

Chrome smiles, and Tsuna wishes she wouldn’t.

“Don’t make me question my decision anymore. Please.”

It was either her, or all of us.

+

They are at the edge of where development and nature mold together into one. The air is still and settled, cool and dry. Nothing moves, not even the leaves, and the world holds its breath. All around her is the foliage of autumn, of scarlet and crimsons and orange burning brighter than a flame of the Sky. It feels warm, comfortable, peaceful. Yet there seems to be something missing. Her portrait is one stroke away from a masterpiece but the painter’s run out.

Through a crack in the canopy, she can see a slit of blue sky. Sunlight filters through gaps between the leaves to dapple the dry, grass-carpeted floor.

“Mukuro-san,” she whispers, to the man she knows is listening to her thoughts. “I’m sorry.”

And his voice travels to her without bidding – so far away, yet closer than she dared imagine. Chrome has always thought his voice to be something of the transaction between autumn and winter: gentle and flowing; cold, yet warm. This time, every imaginary syllable is tinted with the flurry of an emotion she cannot place.

Just go.

And she does, picking her way back to the Vongola’s headquarters, silky white dress fanning out in the light breeze passing by.

The forest almost seems to part, making way for her every step.

+

“He suggested it first.”

“But this -”

“This isn’t helping anything, Gokudera!” Tsuna pounds a fist on the table in frustration. Gokudera jumps back, startled.

(They’re still in the meeting room. Yamamoto leaves shortly after Hibari slinks away, pausing at the door to mouth ‘try to dissuade him’ at Gokudera, who returns the other Guardian a slight nod.)

“Mukuro knows this far better than anyone,” Tsuna’s breath rattles – he’s afraid and uncertain for all his status – but he doesn’t back down. “What other choice do we have?”

He looks close to tears.

“Answer me, Gokudera. Answer me,” Tsuna buries his face in his hands. His shoulders are shaking.

“What other choice do we have, but this?”

Gokudera looks away; anywhere but at his boss. He clenches his fists, so tightly his knuckles whiten from the grip.

He doesn’t say anything simply because there is nothing left for him to say.

Tsuna looks at him with warm brown eyes filled with the reluctant cruelty of experience gained. “This is the only way.”

(And when he feels his boss’ hands rest upon his shoulders, Gokudera has to bite back a rage born from bitterness.)

You’re damning her to Hell, Jyuudaime.

You’re damning her to hell.

END of Prologue.

To be Continued.

To shino_stalker

2009-01-01T10:11:12Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Natsume Yuujinchou x Hetalia Crossover
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Natsume, Tanuma, Kitsune, Nyanko, Japan
Warning(s): OOC to the EXTREME, and major plotholes. I ARE FUCKING AROUND WITH SRS BSNS.
Summary: Kitsune searches out Natsume to implore the boy to help him find his tengu friend, but they end up meeting someone unexpected instead.

+

“Natsume! Your friends are looking for you!”

Natsume just about chokes on his glass of water in shock, so he splutters for air and coughs like a maniac for about ten whole seconds before managing a coherent reply of okay, I’m coming, his voice still quavering and Nyanko-sensei following him in his hurried steps to the front door.

It’s Sunday; and Natsume, quite frankly, isn’t used to having friends visit. (He’s always been alone, so something like this would naturally come across as a little of a shock, if not a pleasant surprise.) But he’s still wary of the people around him; he doesn’t want to lose any of them, but he doesn’t dare get closer, either.

“Tanuma,” he blurts out, colored eyes widening the moment he slides the door open. “Uh, hello.”

The raven-haired teenager before him smiles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, and directs Natsume’s perplexed gaze downwards.

(Natsume, at this point, can only stare in wonderment. His mouth is opening and closing itself like a goldfish’s.)

“Oho!” Nyanko-sensei bounds over to stand beside Natsume, and waves a paw at their visitors. “You’re that insolent child that called me -”

Tanuma raises an eyebrow as he notices Natsume’s fat cat pointing – or as close to pointing a cat could get – at him, then smiles in greeting. “Yo, Ponta.”

Nyanko-sensei splutters in rage. “Don’t call me by that name!”

“Ponta?” Natsume eyes Nyanko suspiciously, then sighs, and transfers his attention to the other visitor.

Namely a little boy (probably no more than ten), staring up at all of them in enraptured delight. His wild, sandy hair fell to frame his face and his warm, brown eyes seemed to almost literally sparkle with childish excitement.

“Natsume-dono!” he exclaims, and bows Natsume a perfect ninety before straightening, rough fabric of his dull pink kimono rustling with every action.

Natsume eyes the boy, and he frowns. He doesn’t remember ever meeting someone like the kid.

“You don’t know him?” Tanuma speaks up, and he stares intently at Natsume (who’s quite close to sweating feverishly and is currently scanning through his brain directory to avoid appearing rude). “I found him lost in the forest around my house this morning, and he said he was looking for you, so I brought him here.”

“Ah,” Natsume straightens. “Thank you. But…” he returns to staring at the boy. “Oh, wait. Don’t tell me…?”

The little child laughs – light, airy, and tinkling like wind chimes – and nods at Natsume, whom realization seems to hit like a speeding bullet train. Natsume gapes a little and Tanuma chuckles in amusement. (Nyanko-sensei just watches on impatiently, as though just hanging around to wait for the Grand Revelation.)

“Eh!? You’re that -” Natsume pauses and glances about the surroundings furtively before continuing in a hushed whisper. “You’re that fox spirit I met before!”

“Dressed up as a human?” Nyanko-sensei muses, and the kitsune nods shyly.

“A-actually, I need help finding one of my friends,” he stutters, and Natsume smiles, patting the fox spirit lightly on the head, ruffling his light-colored locks.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Shiramine-san,” he mumbles, under his breath, and Natsume and Tanuma simultaneously crouch down, straining their ears to pick up the softly-spoken words. “I knew him when I was smaller, but he’s lost contact with my family. I used to play with him every day when I was still a tiny spirit.”

“But aren’t you still tiny?” Nyanko-sensei points out (he just had to), and Natsume takes the opportunity to box him on the head, reprimanding him and behave already, sensei!

“Sorry you got dragged into this, Tanuma,” Natsume looks at the other boy, smiling apologetically and Tanuma waves his apologies away as if they were air.

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, and appears mildly interested. “I’d be glad to help find this Shiramine-san of yours.”

“Really? Thank you!”

“Che, Natsume, always going out of your way for such useless things -” Nyanko-sensei makes to start complaining before he’s picked up and squished by Natsume.

Tanuma watches the scene from a distance. (He can’t help but smile.)

He could get used to this sort of atmosphere.

+

“He lives up on a hill?” Natsume wonders, and thinks of all the sorts of youkai he knows that resided in hilly or forest-covered areas in the wilderness. “Is he one of the shrine gods?”

Kitsune shakes his head, and points up and at a little hill in the distance. Tanuma and Natsume stare at the hill – it’s of a fairly decent size and climbable by the end of the day. All the way at the top of the grassy slopes lay a wooden house, an ancient architectural example. It didn’t look inhabited from where they were standing, but some distance off the old, wooden house, there stood the gate to a shrine – one of the large, majestic ones painted a dull shade of red.

It looked almost lonely, neglected and lost to humans over the gradual passing of time.

“A tengu?” Tanuma remarks, and stares intently at the shrine gate. “Natsume, can you see anything?”

“Not from this distance. Sensei, do you have any recollection of a tengu living around this area.”

Nyanko-sensei snorts, wrapped in Natsume’s arms and looking most self-satisfied. “I haven’t been to this part of the district before.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I guess we’ll have to climb all the way up there, right?” Tanuma points out.

Natsume sighs. “…Yeah.”

+

Somewhere along the way, Kitsune had gotten the Very Funny idea that Natsume and Tanuma could be its adoptive parents. (Nyanko-sensei had agreed heartily to this until Natsume suggested that he be the family pet.)

Natsume didn’t want to know. Not really.

“We’re here,” Tanuma announces, after the long-but-not-so-long climb, and Kitsune bounds up and down excitedly. “And it seems that someone’s living in that house after all.”

“Ah?” Natsume raises his eyebrows, peeking out from behind the dense shrubbery at the little building. A few kimonos that were hung out to dry fluttered with a passing breeze, and lights could be seen within the house, past paned windows whose glass had not a speck of dirt on their gleaming, smooth surfaces.

“Even if it looks so old and creaky, it’s still inhabited,” Tanuma muses, almost impressed at the owner. “It takes a lot of dedication to keep a place like this still standing.”

“Maybe the owner’s going to renovate soon,” Natsume notes. Despite everything – even the well-kept front garden without swarms of unruly weeds – the wooden walls of the house looked as though they were going to cave in.

“Someone’s coming out!” Kitsune exclaims, immediately darting to hide himself behind both Natsume and Tanuma.

Natsume stares at the house, and listens as the front door slides open without so much as a creak. The man who steps out of the abode is small, to say the least. He didn’t look very old, but the look in his monochromatic black eyes was one of wisdom and of someone who had been around for far too long, and had seen countless of things. Blue kimono rustling with every step he took, the man made as if to take down the laundry, heading towards the fluttering clothing.

The minute the man notices the group of them staring, his eyes widen, and Natsume cannot help but to exclaim in surprise. (The man seems slightly flustered and uncertain as to what to do with the new arrivals.)

“Uh, ah, you live here?” Natsume manages, and the man calms down a little before nodding, returning to his laundry.

Natsume automatically assumes that he’s safe and relatively harmless – so he strides (half-walking, half-jogging) towards the man, and bows ceremoniously. “Do you know anything about the shrine gate near your place?” he asks, and the man smiles, as though understanding – and gestures towards the red gate Natsume and his friends had all seen back at the foot of the hill, as though asking: That one?

Natsume nods.

The man laughs, the sound soft and gentle, mixing in with the delicate and almost peacefully clear atmosphere of the hilltop plain. “Sorry. I don’t get many visitors. This is a surprise.”

“I’m sorry for intruding,” Natsume apologizes, smiling sheepishly, and motions for everyone else to stay back for just a little moment while the two talked.

“No, no, it’s alright. And I believe I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Kiku Honda, nice to meet you.”

“Natsume Takashi,” Natsume extends a hand, and Kiku takes it, and they greet each other ceremoniously. “Nice to meet you too, Kiku-san.”

Kiku nods his head, smiling gently. “Now, what do you wish to ask about the shrine gate?”

“Did a tengu use to visit these parts a long time ago?” Kitsune pushes himself into the conversation and Kiku looks down, smiling fondly at the expectant little spirit.

“I don’t remember anymore.”

“Don’t remember?”

“Ah, yes,” Kiku laughs, and regret passes fleetingly across his face. “I live alone now – but a long time ago, I used to be able to see youkai and interact with them. But it seems like as the days go by, more and more people stop believing in such creatures. They’ve long stopped appearing before me because of this. I can’t see them anymore.”

Tanuma and Natsume exchange a look, as though wondering – what has the ‘belief’ of others have to do with the spiritual abilities of someone not connected? (But Nyanko-sensei nods sagely in Natsume’s arms, as though understand what Kiku was talking about.)

“Oh,” Kiku starts. “I’m sorry, I must have been digressing again. As expected from someone as old as I am…”

Natsume eyes Kiku curiously. “But you don’t seem very old, Kiku-san.”

And Kiku laughs, shaking his head. “I’m older than you think, Natsume. I’m as old as this land itself.”

(I’ve been here for a long time.)

“I don’t think your tengu friend is around anymore,” Kiku smiles sadly, gazing at the shrine gate. “Most of the youkai around this area have moved to places where it would be safe for them to live. Humans are developing and expanding their land by the day.”

Soon, they will all be nothing but the stuff of myths and legends.

“Do all of you still believe in such things?”

Natsume feels Kitsune’s grip on his pants tighten, and he nods reassuringly at the little spirit.

“I do,” Tanuma speaks up, and he gestures at Natsume. “And I don’t think Natsume will want to forget, either.”

Natsume nods, and Kiku smiles at the both of them, warm and gentle and somehow relieved, beneath it all.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of much help.”

“Ah, no, it’s fine,” Natsume bows, and everyone follows suit. “Thank you for your time.”

“Then, see you,” Kiku says, just as another gust of wind howls and tears its way through the trees, the sound of rustling rippling through the cold air. “One day, we might cross paths again.”

“Thank you.”

Natsume, Tanuma and Kitsune wave their goodbyes to the man before setting back down the hill, winding their way through the anfractuous forest. Just as Natsume prepares to apologize to Tanuma for dragging him halfway across the district and to Kitsune for their search reaping no results (and that they’d continue their expedition tomorrow after getting some rest), a thought strikes him – why has Nyanko been so quiet? Usually, he’d be the first one shooting his mouth off.

“Sensei,” Natsume whispers, and the spirit in his arms perks his ears, listening. “Why are you so quiet?”

And Nyanko laughs, as though teasing Natsume’s ignorance. “I never thought I’d get to meet someone like that all my lifetime as a youkai,” he says and Tanuma and Natsume raise their eyebrows at the cat in unison.

“Kitsune, you felt it too, didn’t you?” Nyanko asks, and Kitsune nods hesitantly, wary and slightly afraid.

“Who was that?” Tanuma directs the question towards Nyanko. “He seemed…very exceptional.”

Nyanko snorts. “You couldn’t tell?”

“Sensei, don’t beat around the bush,” Natsume berates, and Nyanko huffs in distaste. (They can all hear the grass rustling at their feet as they make their way downwards, silence hanging in the air for mere moments.)

“That man,” Nyanko hops out of Natsume’s arms to run ahead of the group, “Is the very spirit of Japan itself. It figures.”

(He should have known; everything added up. But it was still hard to believe.)

“That man is Japan?” Tanuma breathes, disbelievingly, and Kitsune nods.

“He’s affected by his own people,” Nyanko supplies. “That’s why he can’t see youkai anymore.”

Ntsume's breath catches. "But...isn't that sort of sad?"

Nyanko laughs, almost bitterly. "Natsume, look around you. Who really believes in such things, nowadays?"

(The world was moving.

You’d get left behind eventually.)

END.

Seconds late and Ten Years too Early: Chapter One

2009-01-01T09:55:31Z

Prologue here.

Series officially dedicated to tsumetaitsubasa, a wonderful individual who has helped this story find its direction at last.

Title: In Before your Flight Arrives
Author: nerrin
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Mukuro & Hibari. Possibly implied, but I’m not sure.
Warning(s): OOC.
Summary: They're running out of time. The Vongola's running out of time. And to keep the balance between both sides requires their two most destructive members out on the field together. Dino thinks it's suicide. Hibari thinks it's troublesome. Mukuro thinks it's fun.

+

Chapter One: In before your flight arrives

+

Hibari Kyoya tries his best to ignore the presence of the man beside him in the otherwise unoccupied plane.

“What, pray tell,” he hisses, “Might you be doing in a place like this, Rokudo Mukuro?”

Mukuro laughs – a mirthless and hollow sound devoid of any emotion. His laugh is one that belonged to little girls in those B-Horror puppet-films.

“I had business to do with Dino Cavallone. And I heard you were hanging around Italy as well. It’s not my fault, really – he arranged for both of us to meet here, or so I heard.”

“…Very well,” Hibari manages, mentally damning Dino to hell. “On the account that you are here only for the sole purpose of doing business, I shall permit you on this flight.”

“What, were you planning to throw me out in mid-air?”

Hibari doesn’t try to deny to himself that the idea was still sorely tempting. “What did you think?”

Mukuro shrugs, heaving a loud sigh. “How nasty of you, Kyoya.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hibari snaps, irate. “And can’t you sit somewhere else?”

The Mist Guardian stares at him as though even questioning that fact was blasphemous to his religion (not that Rokudo Mukuro actually had one, obviously). “It’s because you’re here, right? This is the only seat beside you, after all.”

Hibari suppresses the mad urge to splutter out loud. (How very unbecoming.)

“What!?” Mukuro near-whines, attempting to appear misunderstood and failing very miserably. “I have something I need to tell you, and I can’t do it anywhere else but here.”

“Oh, really.”

“The walls have ears everywhere, did you forget?” Mukuro smiles, the gesture slight but horribly sinister. “Talking to you from behind is uncomfortable for me, and if I sit in front, my neck will hurt,” he laughs, patting the fluffy head-cushion of his seat. “Even if this is soft, it’s useless if I don’t seat myself back.”

Hibari snorts, then closes his eyes. The both of them were already heading back to Japan. There wasn’t any point in continuing this senseless banter.

“What is it?”

He starts a little, eyes flying back open when Mukuro grips his right elbow in a hold stronger than steel. The latter’s eyes are dead serious.

“You know what will happen to all of us, don’t you?” he says, voice low and somehow menacing. “You and Tsunayoshi have everything planned right out.”

Hibari’s surprised. This sort of information was supposed to be classified. How did the man know?

The same way he knows just about everything, Hibari thinks grimly to himself.

“So what if we do?” he asks, voice softer than he’d imagined it to be.

Mukuro releases his grip on Hibari’s arm, sinking back into his seat, gazing out of the plane’s window at the carpet of barely-visible clouds in the night below and all around them. “Are you going to sacrifice all of us for that? You know, if the…children you’re sending fail, then we will cease to exist as well.”

“Did you think for one moment that I never considered this possibility?” Hibari answers coldly. “That Sawada Tsunayoshi, too. This is a risk we have to tale if we even want to live at all.”

“Do we need those rings that badly?” Mukuro murmurs, watching as his breath mists on the cool glass pane of the window. “Can’t the Vongola hold up on our own?”

Hibari eyes the Illusionist. As of yet, it was still impossible for him to tell what the man was thinking. “You know the answer to that yourself, Rokudo Mukuro.”

Mukuro laughs, his expression twisting and he can see his own crooked smile in the vague reflection in the window. “For you, it might be easier. You were also a capable fighter back then, Kyoya. But with me, it’s a different matter altogether. I might not survive this at all.”

“Are you telling me that you were weak in the past?”

“Weaker than I am now,” Mukuro comments wryly, tearing himself away from the window at long last. “If the Chrome from ten years back dies here, I will die.”

“What about your body in that era?”

“It’ll remain there,” Mukuro grimaces. “It’ll remain in the prison. But once Chrome is transported here, my connection in that time with her will break, and my body will be left suspended for an eternity until I am finally no longer needed. So she cannot die here, or I will cease to exist.”

Hibari’s head aches just thinking about the complicated patterns involving modifying and warping time. And somehow or other, Mukuro knew about everything – planning to transport their past selves into this era via the ten-year-bazooka to make use of their Vongola Rings to defeat Byakuran. But Hibari wouldn’t question Mukuro about the extent to which he knew – that sort of information would be left up to the man himself to divulge.

“Swear to me you won’t let her die,” Mukuro says suddenly.

Is this an act of self-preservation? Hibari wonders. He doesn’t feel any inclination of the sort, however. “Why?”

“If she dies, I die. And you still haven’t settled everything with me yet, right?” Mukuro asks, a sly smile creeping over his face.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Assume whatever you want.”

Mukuro raises an eyebrow at Hibari, who throws him an intensely questioning sideways glance. “You’re not going to get angry?”

“No,” Hibari sighs, mildly exasperated. “You sound as if you want me to.”

“You’re always angry,” Mukuro pointed out bluntly.

“You and I don’t have much time left,” Hibari states, matter-of-factly. “I’m too tired to be angry anymore.”

“I suppose,” Mukuro chuckles, then pokes Hibari experimentally in the arm. The latter glares heatedly at him, and Mukuro tries to suppress the mad urge to burst into a fit of giggles. “Your wrath is a terrible thing to behold after all, Kyoya.”

Hibari lets Mukuro’s comment slide.

“No,” he mutters. “My wrath is nothing compared to what will befall all of us if we fail.”

Mukuro doesn’t reply him, and they spend the rest of their flight in blessed silence.

To be Continued.

To platinumpair

2008-12-26T13:56:17Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Ciel, Sebastian, Finian
Warning(s): OOC; and this makes no sense in general.
Summary: Finian wants to get the the household involved in a snowball fight.

+

It was only after the first night it snowed that Finian had suggested they have a snowball fight.

Ciel disapproved. Sebastian even more so.

It would be extremely unbecoming of them if they joined in the fantastical parade – and besides, if anyone passing by caught the Phantomhive household hosting a snowball fight…their status in society would be at stake, and Ciel would rather die than let something that critical happen.

Needless to say, snowball fighting amongst the household had been banned on the exact same day by Ciel.

So it was very unfortunate of said Young Master to have been hit by a passing snowball the minute he stepped out of the mansion the next day.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Ciel cried, Sebastian helping him to his feet and brushing off the powdered snow on the boy’s front. “I thought I banned snowball fighting around this place?”

“B-but I just wanted to toss some snowballs around for fun!” Finian quivered, standing amidst the frost-covered bushes in the front yard. “I wasn’t playing around with anybody else! I-I’m sorry for hitting you…” (His shock was excusable, because the way Sebastian was glaring daggers at him was more than enough to make a grown man piss his pants.)

“FINIAN!” Bard roared, from all the way over in the kitchen. “What did you do that for!?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, scanning the exterior of the mansion. Ah, there it was – the section where the kitchen was supposed to be. Sebastian’s eyes narrowed at the suspicious hole in the glass of the kitchen window.

“Finian,” he turned to the gardener, smiling most unpleasantly, “Exactly what did you do?”

“Huh? No!” Finian panicked, gesticulating about as Ciel looked on, exasperated and Bard was still raging over something in the kitchen. “I told you, I was just tossing the snowballs around, then…” his voice trailed off. “Then…”

Sebastian sighed, frustrated. These humans never changed, it seems. “Then you magically managed to toss one straight into the kitchen and probably hit Bard or something else in there, am I right?”

Finian’s wide sapphire eyes seemed to light up as he nodded his head furiously in agreement. “It was an accident! It was an accident!”

“That was a snowball?” Bard stuck his head out of the kitchen window, still in his chef’s attire, expression incredulous. “It felt way more like a cannonball to me!”

“Bard,” Sebastian called to the man, “Everything feels like a cannonball to you. Please, return to your work. I’ll sort out the window after I come back.”

Ciel sighed, adjusting the top-hat he had on, glaring at the members of his household. “Very well,” he told Finian. “You may have a snowball fight amongst yourselves. Just…don’t let anyone see, okay?”

Finian grinned, clearly overjoyed. “Okay!” he exclaimed, saluting Ciel. “I’ll go get Bard and Maylene! But…”

“But?”

“Well,” Finian sounded unsure, “I actually wanted you and Sebastian to join in as well…the more the merrier, right?” Finian said, as a way of explanation when he caught the incredulous look on Ciel’s face.

Sebastian seemed to have also noticed Ciel’s annoyance and chuckled. “Young Master, it wouldn’t hurt for you to have a little fun outside once in a while, would it?”

“…Excuse me!?”

Sebastian attempted to look hurt, but all he came off as was pretentious. “After all, have you not been complaining about the strict lessons you’ve been having indoors every day?”

Ciel glared at the demon, grayish-blue eyes narrowed, silently contemplating his current situation. Sebastian looked down at the boy, smiling all too pleasantly.

Ciel sighed.

(There was no helping it, really; he convinced himself. This is the best solution for now.

If only he could believe it himself.)

“Fine,” he grumbled, adjusting his hat, as Finian whooped in delight. “But after I come back!” he shot at both Finian and Sebastian, the former of which nodded furiously.

Sebastian made a little bow.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Ciel didn’t like the look in the man’s deep, scarlet eyes.

END.

To isaofdoom

2008-12-25T10:45:11Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Tenipuri
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Saeki, Yuuta + Others
Warning(s): OOC. AU. My shitty writing. Gender-bended one character.
Summary: Saeki wakes up to find himself in Yuuta’s room. With a tail. And cat ears. And he has to spend the next few hours in a world where tennis doesn’t exist.

+

“This cannot be happening.”

Yuuta just stares.

And continues staring.

And continues staring.

“Unbelievable,” he finally manages, with an air of curiosity about him and Saeki very nearly flips, because –

“Of course this is unbelievable!” Saeki very-near screeches, flailing his arms about and gesticulating violently at the strange contraptions on his body. “These…things grew on me overnight, I woke up and am now somehow at your place, and all you can say is ‘unbelievable’!?”

Yuuta sighs, and throws the magazine he’s holding at Saeki, who’s seated at the foot of his bed. The latter swipes it deftly from the air, and tosses it back at Yuuta, scowling. Yuuta takes the chance to eye the new additions to Saeki’s body – namely one tail and a pair of ears, but what was ‘unusual’ nowadays?

“Maybe humankind is evolving,” Yuuta suggests, still sprawled lazily over his pillow, and Saeki resists the urge to strangle him on the spot.

The last he remembered, he had been playing a simple game of tennis with Yuuta in one of the public courts near boy’s residence – apparently as a form of ‘practice’ so one day he could finally be good enough to triumph over his Tennis Prodigy of a brother. In Saeki’s opinion, Fuji was so allegedly ‘perfect’ a player it was almost outright ridiculous.

But that wasn’t the point.

“So, wait; let’s get things straight here,” Saeki sighs, and buries his face in his hands. Yuuta looks on curiously, half-tempted to throw the glossy magazine at Saeki again while the boy was distracted with his own thoughts. “First; what happened while we were playing tennis? How did I end up here?”

Saeki watches as Yuuta pauses, and lowers the magazine from his eyes to stare at him. (He doesn’t want to believe it, but Yuuta’s looking at him like he’s gone mad, so…that can’t be a good thing, right?)

“Saeki,” Yuuta sets the magazine aside, dumping it unceremoniously beside his alarm clock on the bedside table, and gets up. “What’s tennis?”

The world seems to freeze for a full five seconds.

…And then time starts again.

Saeki could feel his eyes widening in horror.

“What!?”

+

“So you’re telling me that ‘tennis’ doesn’t exist in this world?” Saeki repeats, utterly flabbergasted.

That just couldn’t be possible. Not when the ‘world’ as he knew it was comprised of ninety-percent ‘tennis’. It just wasn’t possible.

“I don’t even recall the sport ever being invented,” Yuuta states flatly, and points to one of the posters of a sportsman on the wall behind him. “You’re on our table-tennis team and one of the regulars – or did you forget that?”

“…’Our’ team?”

Yuuta raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Yeah, Seigaku’s.”

“What!?” Saeki splutters, and almost falls off the bed in his confusion. “Seigaku? But I’m in Rokkaku!”

“What Rokkaku?” Yuuta stares at him like he’s talking nonsense. “This ‘Rokkaku’ doesn’t even exist. I’ve never heard of the school.”

“Whaaaaat!?”

“Oh yeah,” Yuuta’s gaze travels to the pair of furry cat-ears on his friend. “You’ve had those since forever, by the way.”

By now, Saeki was completely freaked out. So, in this…alternate universe, he was born half-human half-cat, played table-tennis in Seigaku and God knows what else might’ve been warped in this world. Whatever happened to his friends? And everyone else!?

“Oh,” Saeki breathes, and he feels like fainting. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. Maybe I’ll wake up and this will all just be a very, very bad dream. I don’t even want to know how I got here in the first place.”

“You came by bus and slept over,” Yuuta points out, and Saeki is mildly amazed at how the ‘Yuuta’ in this universe accepted such an outrageous fact so calmly. What, so hybrids were ‘normal’ here and so were ‘people arriving from a different dimension’?

“Right,” Saeki buries his face in his palms and feels like screaming out in frustration then bursting into tears. “…Riiiiight.”

“Oh, Yuuta!” a voice sounds from the other side of the closed door to Yuuta’s room. “Are you done? Has Saeki woken up?”

“Yeah, sis,” Yuuta yells, “He’s woken up.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah,” Yuuta says, and a scowl slides onto his face. “She attends Seigaku too – don’t tell me you don’t have any recollection of her?”

Saeki racks his brain furiously, scratching his chin and deep in thought. (He frowns so hard he thinks his facial muscles are going to have a spasm.)

“…No, not really. Your sisters that I know of in my world don’t attend ‘Seigaku’. They’re graduates.”

“Ah, that’s right. But you do remember that one ‘Fuji’, right?” Yuuta snorts. “You know, the female prodigy and all-round genius.”

Saeki splutters as realization hits like a ton of bricks. “What!? You mean that Fuji? The one you’re always competing with?”

Yuuta nods reluctantly, clearly still miffed about always coming in second to his brother…or sister, in this case. “Obviously.”

“Yuuta,” Fuji calls impatiently from outside the room. “Are you two done?”

“Fine, fine,” Yuuta hauls himself out of bed, and motions for Saeki to follow. “Okay, now we’re going to school.”

“Fuji in a girls’ uniform?” Saeki sighs, and resists the strange temptation to ram his head into the nearest hard surface possible. “And with boobs? I don’t think I want to see that. Ever.”

Yuuta laughs. “Don’t worry, my sister’s quite flat.”

+

“And this would be Seigaku, huh,” Saeki remarks, staring at the impressive building. Exactly like how he remembered it back in the old world, but it wasn’t the time to discuss such things. His tail was twitching rather uncomfortably inside his shorts and he had absolutely no idea how to control it.

“Of course,” Yuuta snorts, striding down the hallways beside the boy. “Any prominent characters you remember?”

“I don’t know…Atobe Keigo, maybe?”

“Ah, that self-proclaimed ‘king’,” Yuuta mutters. “He’s in your class, actually.”

“What!?”

“And so’s my sister. And that Tezuka Kunimitsu.”

Saeki snorts. “Oh, right. And Tezuka and Atobe are sworn rivals from birth and both of them are constantly competing against each other.”

“How’d you know?”

“…I’ve been around.”

“Just as expected of you.”

“So, where’s my class?”

Yuuta shrugs and points lazily to a map of the classrooms near the staircase some meters off. “Just check. I’m going to be late, so…we’ll just discuss your magical journey from another world during recess.”

Saeki raises an eyebrow. This wasn’t going to be a fun day.

“And watch out,” Yuuta calls over his back. “The ‘you’ of before was pretty popular, so don’t ruin that guy’s reputation.”

“…Okay?”

(He didn’t want to believe that he was popular in this school but what could he say? This was a completely different universe, after all.

And besides - aren’t these ears weird? Why isn’t anyone freaked out?)

Saeki didn’t believe it all.

But he was in for more trouble than he’d expected.

+

“God, what,” Saeki kicks open the door to the classroom, flustered and disheveled. “Why on earth are there a bunch of fangirls waiting right outside this class?”

“Oh, hi, Saeki,” Fuji (Oh my God, NO.) says, looking up from his (her) book, all the way from the other end of the class. Nearby stood the Famous Tezuka Kunimitsu, apparently engrossed in a violent game of tic-tac-toe with Atobe, both of whom were treating the paper between them like a battlefield and their pencils as Mighty Earth-Splitting Weapons.

“…Hi?” Act natural, act natural, pretend she’s the Fuji you know…

“This class if full of some of the most famous people in this school, including myself,” ‘Fuji’ supplies, and gestures at an empty seat behind her. “You’re one of them. Or have you forgotten?”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. I never noticed.”

“That’s just like you, isn’t it?” a new voice spoke up from behind him, and Saeki whirled around, coming face-to-face with a boy who seemed breezily dashing in the plain white uniform of Seigaku.

And where did he see that face before?

“Oh…Shiraishi,” Saeki blinks. “Hi.”

Shiraishi laughs, waving a bandaged arm in Saeki’s face. “Hi there, my dear desk-partner. Why the look?”

“…Nothing, really.”

Shiraishi chuckles. “That’s good. Now, I think we should move from the doorway, Yukimura and Sanada haven’t arrived yet.”

Saeki feels like his brain is imploding in on itself. So ‘his’ class was made up of very famous, very much Elite players in the Tennis World back in his home world.

Brilliant.

Just brilliant.

Today was going to be a long day.

+

“Are you absolutely sure you have no recollection of what tennis is?” Saeki continues pestering Yuuta on their walk back home.

He insisted that they take the long way by walking instead of by bus – this was suicidal of him on all counts, but…he didn’t want his tail twitching like a rabid dog in a crowded bus. And he’d had more than enough of sitting down and his ears felt itchy and were extremely disturbing to scratch.

Besides, the walk back home would provide them ample time to talk. Forget the cars rushing by or the clear cerulean sky – Saeki wanted to talk business, and he was going to do it now.

“I told you,” Yuuta sighed, and flapped a hand in Saeki’s face. “Stop pestering me about this ‘tennis’ thing!”

Saeki resisted the urge to jump straight into the path of an oncoming car. He couldn’t possibly be going through this. Maybe if he died here, he’d wake up in the world which he came from, like in those manga and anime titles. Or maybe his way out was a magic portal in a wardrobe or something.

“But I want to get back to my world,” he squeaked, and his ears twitched violently. Saeki slapped at them lightly. “Back where I came from, tennis made up a big portion of your life too – it was so important to you, I can’t believe even your ‘this self’ would forget everything.”

“So what’s this ‘tennis’ like, then?” Yuuta relented. Seeing Saeki so downcast was bad on his nerves and definitely unhealthy.

“Whacking a ball around with rackets,” Saeki summarized. (Maybe a little too briefly, because the ‘tennis’ he was accustomed to seeing others play involved…some very ridiculous moves, really.)

“That sounds like table-tennis,” Yuuta mused. “Where you as enthusiastic about tennis as I am with table-tennis?”

“Of course,” Saeki nods vehemently, remembering the hours upon hours he had spent with his team.

All of them – all of them - meant a lot to him. Every last one of them. Rokkaku hadn’t been the best team around, and it most certainly wasn’t the flashiest either. They were all just…them and having so much fun just being together.

(Forget tennis, Saeki realized with a jolt. They were the ones he truly missed.)

“I kinda miss my teammates,” He confesses to Yuuta. “Even though most of us’ll be graduating and going our separate ways. I want to have as much fun with them as possible before we split up. Teams are like that, yeah?”

“…Yeah.”

“And…sorry for making you walk with me.”

Yuuta chuckles. “No problem. You probably aren’t even sure where your own house in this world is, right?”

“Nail on the head,” Saeki sighs. “Maybe the ‘me’ in this world moved or something.”

Saeki sneaks in a sideways glance at Yuuta, whose eyes have widened, and are fixed on a spot behind him. Saeki raises an eyebrow, surprised. What could possibly be happening in broad daylight, and behind him for that matter?

“Yuuta? What -”

“Saeki! Duck! Hurry up!”

“Huh?”

Yuuta’s warning had come too late, however. Saeki felt something hard - a basketball? - connect with the back of his head. As the ball fell to the ground, the slow, rhythmic thumping of the rubber against the concrete pavement seemed to resound in his ears – the cat ones, of course. They hurt; they hurt a lot.

“Hey, Saeki? You okay?”

Yuuta was leaning over him, concerned.

Where did that shot come from? Saeki wondered idly, and since when did he manage to fall over from the hit? Surely he was steadier than that?

He squints up at Yuuta’s silhouette, outlined against the rays of the glaring sun. His vision was getting blurry and fogged up at the edges, and –

His head hurts.

It hurts, and his ears ring painfully.

The last thing he remembers is someone’s voice, calling his name.

+

Then Saeki wakes up with a jolt, and half expects to see the familiar surroundings of Yuuta’s room around him.

He does.

And he groans, thinking: Not this again…

So Saeki proceeds to check if parts of his anatomy are still in place, and the minute he discovers he’s missing his cat-like features, half the Fuji household is roused by his relieved yelling.

The door bursts open and Yuuta is standing there, flustered, worried, and decked in the St. Rudolph attire and Saeki has never felt more relieved than now – seeing his friend standing right there in front of him, dressed appropriately and holding a…

…Tennis racket.

Saeki nearly bowls Yuuta over the rails and down the staircase from his sudden flying tackle. Fuji the Elder stands a little way off from the both of them, looking on curiously.

“Ah, Saeki,” he says. “You’ve woken up.”

Saeki doesn’t dare to look Fuji in the eye - Wait, Fuji can’t even open his eyes, anyway - because he’s seen the dude in a skirt. A freakin’ skirt.

“What happened?” Saeki questions hesitantly, letting go of Yuuta, who proceeded to gasp for breath.

“Yuuta delivered, you received,” Fuji states. “In short, you passed out because he hit the ball too hard and it whacked you n the head.”

“So I just passed out because Yuuta was too violent?”

“Who asked you to be so thin-skulled!?” Yuuta protests. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Fuji ‘hmm’s sagely for two seconds before answering. “Something like that.”

Saeki sighs in relief, and resumes his hugging of Yuuta because Thank God! They’re all normal!

“Oh my God, I thought I was trapped there forever,” Saeki gushes, and Yuuta just struggles harder under his iron-grip.

“Trapped where!?”

Saeki laughs, lets Yuuta go, and pats the boy on the head. He’s glad he’s back in this world.

“Somewhere else,” he informs, and Yuuta fumes. “And you were awfully nice to me there, so thanks.”

And Saeki finds it very, very amusing how Yuuta immediately splutters and tries to throttle the life out of him.

(But really, he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

END.

KHR fanfic: Vacation [69, 27, 18]

2008-12-24T04:40:45Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Rating: Gen. And very much crack.
Character/Pairing(s): Mukuro + Hibari + Tsuna, Reborn + Dino
Warning(s): An abundance of OOC. A thousand and one questions probably left unanswered due to possible lack of details. Tsuna is still made of fail here. And my n00b writing.
Summary: Vacation is supposed to be relaxing. But when you're in India with Mukuro and Hibari as your escort? Sorry, Tsuna, you're not getting your rest.
A/N: Written for epikstory at khr_exchange

+

Tsuna remembered it as though it only happened yesterday.

+

“He needs a vacation!”

Sawada Tsunayoshi could only gape, stare, and gape some more at the Italian man standing before him, flapping an envelope in his face.

Dino Cavallone had barged into his house one fine and blazing afternoon – most certainly uninvited – to confront his ‘little brother’ about his ‘pupil’ needing a vacation to some unknown resort.

“D-Dino-san,” Tsuna had stuttered hesitantly, waving both hands before himself as if to deny that Hibari Kyoya was related to him or the Vongola at all. “I don’t understand – what do you mean by this?” He would pretend that he knew nothing about this, oh yes, if not only for the fact that he already almost understood what the Italian wanted from him.

Dino folded his arms across his chest, Romario an ever-watchful presence behind him. The afternoon sun that streamed in through the windows and fluttering curtains highlighted Dino’s blond hair an even more vibrant gold. Tsuna winced mentally as he surveyed the man’s set expression, whose brown eyes were flitting around Tsuna’s room for Reborn’s presence. The hitman had to be somewhere – he always was.

“Ciaossu, Dino.”

“Reborn!” Tsuna exclaimed, half-surprised and half-relieved, though he doubted that the Arcobaleno would bother trying to dissuade the Cavallone from trying to force a few certain Guardians on vacation.

The hitman turned to face Tsuna, Leon perched on his shoulder like a silent sentinel. “You need a vacation too, Tsuna,” he commented sagely. The boy in question tried to gather his wits to muster a protest, but gave up halfway, shoulders heaving with a heavy sigh.

“He’s been very stressed lately,” Dino added, striding over and placing the envelop he was fingering down onto Tsuna’s desktop, tapping it as he spoke, each syllable and every word accentuated the way only Italians could. “So I decided to get you guys a little break – three tickets to this one private Nature Reserve in India. An acquaintance of mine sent them to me, and I figured that I’d better let you have them. And you’re having your holidays around this time, so it’s very convenient.”

“W-wait…” Tsuna cast a sideways glance at Reborn, who nodded in approval most unhelpfully. “Dino-san – you said three tickets? Are you coming along too?”

The Italian shook his head, expression a mask of mild regret. “I’ll be busy handling family business,” he stated softly, mouth set in a thin, grim line. “So I can’t tag along, even if I wanted to.”

Tsuna nodded slightly. “Oh. Okay. So…” his face scrunched up in confusion as Tsuna tried desperately to consider the options laid out before him. “Who’s the third person?”

Dino waved a hand in front of his face. “Oh, don’t worry about that,” he remarked airily. “I’ve already arranged someone to go with you two…right, Reborn?”

“Of course.”

If Tsuna wasn’t worried before, the glint in Reborn’s eye was more than enough to spark off a pit of butterflies in his stomach. He gulped, forcing the air down his dry throat.

“Who is it?” Tsuna asked.

Reborn turned to face his pupil, smiling all too pleasantly. Dino chuckled wryly, muffling the sound with his hand.

“Rokudo Mukuro.”

+

Those two…they did this on purpose, didn’t they?

“Why did you even bother complying, Hibari-kun?” Mukuro asked, throwing a casual backwards glance over his shoulder, both hands perched steadily upon the steering wheel of the van the three of them were currently in. “You know you could’ve…could’ve…” Mukuro paused and frowned to himself, swerving and making a particularly sharp turn around the next vine-covered tree. “What was that phrase again?”

“…Bitten him to death,” Hibari growled, under his breath.

“Right, right,” Mukuro exclaimed in mock triumph, turning back to the wheel just as the van travelled over a particularly nasty bump in the road. “And…Tsunayoshi-kun, you have the map with you, right?”

Why…why am I stuck between these two, of all people!? “M-Mukuro-san,” Tsuna fumbled around in the backseat, finally pulling out a huge map with a clumsily-executed flourish. “Where are we now?”

“Oh, that,” Mukuro replied lazily, still directing the van over the dirt road stretched before them. “…No idea, actually.”

Hibari snorted in disdain, sinking back in his seat, crossing both arms over his chest and staring intently out of the nearest window at the scenery flashing by.

“Do you have something to say, Hibari Kyoya?” the Mist Guardian piped up suddenly. Tsuna could almost imagine the sinister smile on the man’s face that only complimented his equally dangerous tone of voice.

Hibari chose to preserve a dignified silence despite the odds.

Mukuro laughed, a rich and throaty sound, letting go of the wheel for a moment. The van jerked sharply to the left, rubber tires squealing in protest as the van continued to race its way across the dirt track. “What did that Cavallone say to you anyway? The Kyoya I know would never agree to something as preposterous as this.”

“And since when did you ‘understand’ me?”

“My, aren’t you a little chattier than usual today?” Mukuro shot back. Hibari narrowed his eyes, glaring daggers at the man. “What did that guy do? Threaten to blow up Namimori?”

“What are you saying, Mukuro-san? Dino-san isn’t that kind of person!” Tsuna interjected, voice shaky and heart still uncertain if it would be wise for him to get in between these two dangerous men. After all, if Reborn wasn’t around…

“Oh yeah?” Mukuro retorted, unimpressed. “Then why hasn’t Hibari-kun said anything, then?”

Tsuna paused, unable to come up with any form of a counterargument, instead sneaking in a petrified sideways glance at Hibari, who looked close to strangling the life out of Mukuro with his bare hands.

“Rokudo Mukuro, if you say any more, I’ll -”

“Bite me to death, yeah, I know,” Mukuro yawned, keeping his gaze on the road ahead as vines and hanging creepers slapped away at the windshield. “And Tsunayoshi-kun, when are we – woah, a tiger!”

Tsuna almost spat his heart out in shock, the organ in question beating heavily against his ribcage. “B-but I don’t see any tiger…”

Mukuro dismissed Tsuna’s fear with an airy wave of his hand. “I think it only ran by; it’s gone now -”

Thump.

“What was that?” Tsuna wailed, scrambling around the backseat and getting successfully tangled with the huge map he had recently fished out from a pocket.

Hibari raised a nonchalant eyebrow as Mukuro laughed and risked a glance backwards, pointing a finger at the roof of the van. Tsuna risked a look upwards, and this time round, his heart started racing so fast it threatened to break out and smash his ribcage into little pieces. Tsuna gulped down the lump forming in his throat. The roof had been dented – literally dented – and that could mean only one thing…

“Oh no,” Tsuna breathed, clutching on to both sides of his seat, still unable to tear his eyes off the horrifying sight that was the roof. The van lurched forward, running over a bump in the road, and an angry roar resonated throughout the otherwise peaceful-looking forest.

“Oh yes,” Mukuro leered, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

The tiger pounded another dent in the roof.

And Mukuro stepped down on the accelerator.

“We’re going to force it off,” he cackled, as the van raced through the dense undergrowth, mowing down the shrubbery, breaking little sticks and branches beneath burning tires and making the most hair-raising turns around unexpected corners. The van left a cloud of sand and dust in its wake as it tore through the pathways of the nature reserve.

“Mukuro-san! Don’t throw us off into a path that isn’t marked!”

Hibari yawned, shoulder bumping against the left wall of the van as Mukuro made an especially sharp right turn. With all this speed-racing, he was developing a migraine – not to mention the absolute din that Sawada Tsunayoshi and the tiger were making together. The former was still scared right out of his pants – face pale, eyes wide, and clinging on for dear life.

That was (barely) forgivable, given the weak little herbivore that he was. The latter, however…

“It’s annoying,” Hibari said, getting up and half-standing, half-crouching in the van. He stretched upwards an arm to rap on the metal of the roof, finger tracing a well-defined square set in it. The square looked like a trapdoor leading up to an attic – the only difference was that that particular door only lead to the roof of the car. Hibari wrapped the pale, slender fingers of his right hand around the small handle of the door, tonfa at the ready in the other.

“What might you be doing, Hibari-kun?” Mukuro asked, with forced sweetness in his tone, clearly far too agitated from burning gas travelling across the seemingly-endless nature reserve.

“I’ll bite that thing to death.”

Mukuro snorted disbelievingly. “You’re going to fight with that thing one-on-one?”

Huh!? Tsuna’s train of derailing thought froze with a harsh jerk. He stared at the Cloud Guardian, jaw slack and mouth wide open in shock. Hibari-san’s going to challenge that tiger to a duel on the roof of a speeding van!?

“Yes,” Hibari replied, gaze icy and as hard as steel. He opened the trapdoor a crack.

Mukuro huffed. “What if it knows kung-fu?”

Hibari paused to ponder this option Mukuro had just offered him. “…It won’t.”

The pounding on the van’s roof increased in intensity and Mukuro winced. He didn’t want to die again – waiting in Hell to be reincarnated was so boring, especially when he’d done it about six times before. “Then don’t blame me if it can use the matrix or something,” Mukuro muttered under his breath. “Feel free to do battle – but make sure you don’t get hit by some overhanging tree branch. I’m not going to be responsible.”

In an instant, realization and rage alike flashed across Hibari’s face and he slammed the trap door shut, seating himself down at an inhuman speed.

For at that very moment, Mukuro drove them into the nearest thatch of dense undergrowth.

+

He’s insane! Tsuna wailed mentally, desperately trying to come up with an explanation as to why Mukuro would be this possessed to drive straight into the forest. Looking out of the nearby window, all Tsuna could discern were the faint outlines of diminutive trees and thick bushes – so unless Mukuro happened to be an owl with night-vision, they weren’t going to survive if he continued driving the van at this speed.

I knew it; we’re all going to die!

“Why did you stop me?” Hibari growled, threatening.

“At least I got it off,” Mukuro piped up, voice suspiciously cheerful even as he continued tearing them through the darkness of the forest. “It got hit off by a branch the moment I drove into this place. There’re probably claw marks on the van’s roof now…”

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Hibari said, voice dangerously low. He looked positively livid and ready to kill. “And where are you taking me?”

“I told you – no idea!” Mukuro said, shrugging indifferently.

“Then slow down.”

For a brief moment, Tsuna caught the mock regret in Mukuro’s expression despite their dark and gloomy surroundings, and felt something sink in the pit of his stomach.

“Can’t,” Mukuro shook his head petulantly, stray strands of blue swishing about with the movement, falling to rest and framing his pallid face. “The accelerator’s stuck.”

“Mukuro-san,” Tsuna piped up. “Can’t you brake?”

Mukuro shook his head again as Hibari growled something particularly nasty under his breath, folding arms over his chest as if to say – “I give up on this idiot.”

“The brakes aren’t working, Tsunayoshi-kun.”

“What!?”

“Oh, look,” Mukuro pointed into the distance. “We’re nearing the end of the tunnel.”

Tsuna’s eyes widened in relief – the van was heading straight towards a gap in the dense undergrowth, from which light was streaming through the gaps between the leaves and branches. But something’s wrong – something’s definitely wrong! Tsuna panicked silently. Maybe it was just the ‘Vongola’s Hyper-intuition’ thing he had going on, but…

“Good God,” Mukuro exclaimed, tone carrying the faintest hint of surprise. “Why is there a cliff in the middle of a place like this?”

Hibari snorted at the illusionist, hands intertwined across his chest. “If you’re going to teleport us out of here, you’d better do it right now or I’ll bite you to death.”

“I apologize that I am unable to share my extra lives with you, Tsunayoshi-kun.”

Mukuro laughed.

Hibari seemed unimpressed.

Tsuna clasped his hands together and prayed.

+

“He drove me off a hill,” Hibari pointed out almost rigidly, expression unchanging. “How can that be considered ‘emotionally healthy’?”

“You’re forgetting that he drove Tsuna-kun off as well, Kyoya,” Dino supplied.

Dino Cavallone and Hibari Kyoya were seated in the living room of Tsuna’s home, barely days after Mukuro had magically managed to drive himself, Tsuna and Hibari off a cliff somewhere in India. Apparently, Tsuna still hadn’t recovered from the shock. Still, Dino had called in Hibari to ask what sort of experience the teenager had gathered from the little expedition.

“Never again,” Hibari cut Dino off. “Don’t you dare try to send me on one of those things ever again.”

Dino laughed. Initially, he had planned to end this quickly and go upstairs to accompany Reborn in observing Tsuna’s recovery – but with Hibari Kyoya here, it just wasn’t really possible. “How did you manage to escape being killed by Rokudo Mukuro, anyway?”

A muscle under Hibari’s right eye twitched visibly. “The ‘cliff’ was actually a very steep hill – that herbivore was screaming his head off. Then the brakes finally came unstuck.”

“By ‘herbivore’, you mean Tsuna?”

Hibari ignored the question completely, instead glaring heatedly at the good-natured man seated before him. “Where’s Mukuro?”

“You mean he isn’t with you?” Dino raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“He disappeared at the airport.”

“Interesting,” Dino said, getting up on his feet and striding towards the staircase leading up to Tsuna’s room. “Who knows? What do you need that man for?”

Narrowing his eyes, Hibari glared at the cerulean blue sky smattered with the wispy white of clouds outside, through a nearby window. “Getting him back for stopping me biting that tiger to death. It would have been interesting had he not interfered.”

The other man nodded approvingly, watching as Hibari excused himself without ceremony from the house. “Exacting your revenge, I see. How very like you, Kyoya - wait, what?”

Dino’s brown eyes widened in shock.

“A tiger!?”

END.

To relaxsama

2008-12-19T07:11:11Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: xxxHolic/Katekyo Hitman Reborn Crossover
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Watanuki, Yuuko, Tsuna + others
Warning(s): OOC and spoilers for the TYL-arc, but I believe you’ve heard it all already.
Summary: Tsunayoshi wishes, and Yuuko grants.

+

Nothing is ever done ‘without reason’.

“But why travel specially to another world?” Watanuki asks, and he stares at Yuuko (who’s decked out in one of her flashy dresses again) who is standing not far off.

“He requested for us to meet him here,” she murmurs softly, and smiles, just as a breeze ushers itself into the empty halls of the shrine, bringing along with it the dregs of the autumn season.

The weather is warm and cooling at the same time - soothing, even, if not for the lonely and disused appearance of the shrine; rotting away and long-forgotten atop a hill no one dared visit anymore.

“Who is ‘he’?”

Because Yuuko would never chose to travel the dimensions to grant a simple ‘wish’ on a whim. Even for the travelling, a price had to be paid. And she was seeing to all of that herself.

Yuuko smiles, and casts a narrowed gaze over her shoulder, and Watanuki stiffens under her cold, steady gaze.

“He is someone who will decide the fate of this world,” she whispers, to the wind, and his eyes widen in surprise.

The leaves and branches of the trees encircling the shrine rustle.

“He’s coming,” Yuuko says, and straightens, preparing to receive this ‘customer’ in his own World.

Watanuki squints into the distance. Everything before him is highlighted sharply against the cerulean sky. This world seemed peaceful – normal, even. Was there really unrest residing in this place?

But trouble comes at the most unexpected of times, he reminds himself.

So he stands by Yuuko’s side, and waits.

+

“Sawada Tsunayoshi. I’ve been waiting for you.”

The man bows ceremoniously. “Thank you for taking time off to see to my request.”

Yuuko cups her hands around his face, angling it so he can look her in the eye. She studies him for a little while before nodding and letting go.

Watanuki notes, with a hint of curiosity, how surprisingly empty his warm, brown eyes are, despite everything. And the man’s clothing was –

Tsuna catches Watanuki staring, and picks a little hesitantly at the front of his striped shirt. “I’m sorry,” he says, and points at the fluttering cape behind him (and Watanuki takes the chance to stare at the design of the strange gloves he wore), smiling sheepishly. “It’s a little too much, isn’t it?”

“No, no, not at all!” he replies, slightly flustered. He doesn’t like it how the stranger treats him with such familiarity; like he’s known him for years.

“Sawada Tsunayoshi,” Yuuko intones (and this time she is smiling; smiling in the way Watanuki has seen her smile so many times before). “What is your request?”

Tsuna smiles up at her, his expression one of bitter regret. “I need two of my good friends to get along.”

Yuuko raises an eyebrow. “And can’t you do that yourself?”

“I’ve tried,” Tsuna says. “And their cooperation is…vital for what I’m going to do for all of us.”

“But you should grant your own wishes sometimes,” she says. “You shouldn’t always rely on others.”

Tsuna bites his lip and Watanuki can see how troubled he is, how much indecisiveness has built up on those shoulders of his. “I know,” he says, and his voice is quavering, “But I don’t have time anymore.”

“Please,” he says, and Yuuko frowns. “The two of them need to get along no matter what the cost. They’ve been struggling with each other and arguing about everything since the last few days. We’ll die if they continue like this.”

Yuuko stares at him, with her eyes that saw the future (or so Watanuki believes) and she tilts Tsuna’s chin up so he can face her.

“I know,” she says, and her expression is set and serious. “I know what will happen to all of you if you fail.”

Yuuko straightens, folding her long and slender arms across her chest, smiling down at Tsuna. “Are you willing to pay any price for them?”

Tsuna frowns, and seems to consider this, but not for long. “Yes.” His gaze is strong and determined.

“Any price.”

Yuuko looks on almost impassively.

“Even your life?”

Tsuna’s eyes widen, and he parts his lips as if to speak, but nothing comes out. Watanuki couldn’t blame him. Even he as a bystander was appalled by the sudden proposition. (What kind of price was that to pay for the calming of a storm between two close friends? What kind of price was that?)

But Tsuna nods. He’s made his decision.

“Yes. Even my life.”

Yuuko smiles, and seems almost proud of Tsuna’s choice. “You’ve chosen to place your faith in the ‘those two’ of a different era. That’s very noble of you.”

Tsuna smiles, fondly. “I believe in the both them.”

“Very well,” Yuuko says. “You’ve paid your price. Your wish will be granted once I get back to the shop.”

“I’m sorry for troubling you,” Tsuna bows. “I’ll take my leave then.”

“You’re very brave,” Yuuko nods, as a form of farewell. “Not many would have chosen that path.”

Tsuna looks over his shoulder, already at the mouth of the shrine.

And he smiles.

“Thank you.”

+

The moment they’re back in the shop, Watanuki is close to pouring out all his questions, but Yuuko gets to him first.

“Watanuki, would you have paid a price like that?” Yuuko asks, smiling slyly.

Watanuki frowns, and honestly considers this.

“Maybe,” he answers sincerely. “When the time comes, maybe.”

Yuuko laughs. “Good,” she says, and points at him. “Now get me some dessert – your shift isn’t over yet, you know.”

“What?” Watanuki splutters (but he’s already stomping off in the direction of the kitchen, anyway). “You slave driver!”

Yuuko smiles softly to herself, gazing after Watanuki’s rapidly disappearing shadow. And she shifts her gaze to Mokona, who’s seated very quietly on the top of the little table near them.

(It was only natural. This was the first time someone had to pay for their wish directly with their life; unlike deaths that resulted from the wish itself.)

“I wonder if they’ll be okay?” she murmurs, patting Mokona lightly on the head. “Gokudera and Yamamoto; those two Tsunayoshi wished so dearly for.”

“After all, beyond this point, only pain and hardship await the both of them.”

“But,” Mokona speaks up, “They won’t let their world get destroyed so easily, right?”

Yuuko smiles reassuringly.

“No. I don’t think so.”

END.

To elaine_lim

2008-12-18T12:08:27Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Tenipuri
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing(s): Kenya, Chitose & others. Pairing-wise; if you want to look at it that way – probably mentioned Shiraishi/Chitose, Kenya/Zaizen, BAKA COUPLE (lol canon)
Warning(s): OOC and Insane Dialogue.
Summary: And who said life had to be normal? Inclusive of LOLWHUT and SlightyInsane!Kenya.

+

“Chitose,” Kenya mutters, one fine day, “How does Shiraishi put up with you?”

Chitose looks out from behind the Twilight novel (the translated Japanese version, that is) he’s holding in front of his face, slumped across a table in the library with Kenya. The two of them had decided to complete their overdue homework all in one shot during their free period, but the operation was sort of failing on them. (Chitose being way too lazy to actually care and Kenya constantly procrastinating.)

“Magic?” he suggests, completely serious. (And proceeds to watch in amusement when Kenya slaps at his own forehead and yelps out in pain. Naturally, they get shushed by the over-fussy librarian.)

Kenya scowls in displeasure, still hunched over his Biology homework. He was getting nowhere with it, but that wasn’t the point. “Oh, come on,” he wags his pencil in Chitose’s face accusingly. “I know you moved into his house just last week.”

Chitose raises an eyebrow. “News spreads like wildfire, doesn’t it?”

“I got it from Zaizen,” Kenya grumbles, slumping over his textbook in defeat. “Brat was whining again about ‘all of my senpais are gay’. Personally, I beg to differ.”

“Oho,” Chitose leans forward and pokes at the picture of a uterus on Kenya’s textbook. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” he warns Kenya. “Koharu and Yuuji are contagious, or so they say.”

Kenya looks incredulously from the uterus to Chitose and back to the uterus again. “Does this,” he points at the diagram, “Have anything to do with gay teenage boys?”

“…Maybe they decided it was too obscene to copulate with females after looking at that?” Chitose answers, and pries Kenya’s fingers off the book so he can flip it to Page 151. He slaps the book back on the table and points at another diagram. “In my opinion, the male one is a lot more visually appealing.”

Kenya splutters –especially because Chitose was serious - and damned near throttled the other boy there and then. “Do you have any idea how obvious that was?”

“What, the visually-appealing bit?”

“No!” Kenya screeches and flaps impatiently at the librarian when she glared very pointedly at him. “I mean,” he whispers conspiringly and Chitose leans forward just to add to the Super-Secret Spy Mission-esque atmosphere, “That no matter how much you two try to deny it, you and Shiraishi are so obviously gay for each other.”

“Not as obvious as you and Zaizen,” Chitose smiles pleasantly, as though pointing out the Number One Certified Fact.

“Me and that brat!?” Kenya snorts indignantly. “No way -”

“See,” Chitose points out. “You two even have pet-names for each other.”

Kenya is rendered incoherent and Chitose smiles in silent victory.

“We’re not as so-called obvious as our canon pair, though,” Kenya scowls.

Chitose laughs. “You say it like it’s a bad thing,” he says, and is promptly whacked over the head by an enraged Kenya.

“And anyway,” Kenya states huffily, “I am not in love with that Zaizen.”

“Likewise,” Chitose smiles, “And for your information, I did not pretend to elope with Shiraishi. My house was merely burnt down and I’m only staying at his place as a temporary measure.”

“Burnt down!?”

Chitose shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s not very serious, though. I’ll live.”

Kenya feels more than one of his face muscles twitch in a sort of protest. Did he believe a word of what Chitose just said? Hell no.

“Right, right,” he slumped back down onto the tabletop. “And, Chitose,” Kenya perks up, pointing at the book his friend’s holding. “What’re you reading that for?”

“This?” Chitose holds up the book and Kenya stares at it, unimpressed. “They said one the main characters sparkled, so I was sort of…curious, I guess.”

Kenya was reminded very vividly of Chitose’s Epic Second Door of Muga on the tennis courts. (God knew how he managed all the Special Sparkly Effects, really.)

“So…” he gestures at the book, unsure. “Is that ‘character’-person sparkly-brilliant?”

Chitose shrugs and slams the book shut.

“Nah,” he says. “I’m better.”

+

At recess, Shiraishi takes the chance to stare very accusingly at Chitose. And Chitose – just as predicted – pointedly ignores him.

It only takes about five minutes of this ridiculosity for Kenya to snap.

So he skewers a fishcake lying in Chitose’s bento with a chopstick and waves it threateningly in Shiraishi’s face. (Chitose, in general, is Highly Amused because oh, lol, Kenya’s snapping.)

Shiraishi just…stares, and Kenya gets more pissed off by the minute. So he meets his buchou’s eyes and the two relay a volley of telepathic messages for a whole minute. (The fishcake is still there on the chopstick and dripping sauce in the face of Shiraishi’s serious-business expression.)

“Okay,” Shiraishi claps his hands together and sighs in defeat. “Kenya, this matter will settle itself. But for now, could you please remove Chitose’s fishcake from my face?”

“Oh?” Zaizen remarks, from somewhere to Kenya’s left, having just arrived. He pulls up and chair and drops straight into it, slamming his tray down on the table. “Oshitari-senpai’s finally gone off the deep end, eh?” he remarks snidely, and Kenya resists the insane urge to stab Zaizen with his other chopstick.

“See, Shiraishi?” Chitose grins at the boy seated across from him, then points at the currently-squabbling Zaizen and Kenya. “No worries. These two have got it worse than us.”

“Ah,” Shiraishi remarks flatly, turning almost robotically to stare at the two in question. “Kenya, please stop trying to force that fishcake down Zaizen’s throat. It might be poisonous and unhealthy.”

“Oh, all the better,” Kenya replies vehemently, and resumes his argument with Zaizen.

Shiraishi snaps his fingers in a moment of sudden clarity. “I got it,” he turns back to Chitose, excited. “Those two are the Tsundere-Couple type, only with double the abuse.”

“What type?”

Chitose notices and waves at the newly-arrived Kintarou from his position, and Shiraishi turns around in his seat to welcome the enthusiastic redhead.

“Couple type, Kin-chan,” Shiraishi explains, smiling at the Very Confused Kintarou. “Like Koharu and Yuuji are what you would call canon.”

“That’s ‘outright obvious’, right?” Kintarou wonders, seating himself down beside Shiraishi.

“More like ‘official’,” Chitose interjects. “And Kenya and Zaizen are what you would call ‘In Denial’.”

“Ohhhh…”

“Don’t corrupt his mind!” Kenya splutters, having just ended the extremely heated argument. “Kin-chan, don’t believe a word of what those corrupt senpais of yours are saying!”

“Exactly,” Zaizen butts in. “You’re only twelve. It’s far too early for you.”

“And you’re only thirteen,” Koharu points out cheekily.

“So what?” Zaizen snorts, and then the world seems to freeze as he realizes. Shiraishi takes to staring at a spot somewhere behind Zaizen, and Chitose merely smiles while Kintarou yells out a welcome to their resident canon couple. “…Senpai!? When did you get here?”

Koharu adjusts his glasses with the hand that isn’t slung around Yuuji’s shoulder. “A long time ago,” he supplies. “Right, Yuu-kun?”

“Of course, Koharu.”

And Kenya notes how the two of them promptly start making mock-kissing noises and faces behind Zaizen just to annoy the boy. (Zaizen, for the most part, looked like he wanted to die.)

Shiraishi chuckles at the scene and Chitose laughs, and Kenya notes (again) how the two return to their homely-husband-and-wife interaction and doesn’t quite know what to think of anything anymore. (What, so every last one of the regulars was gay; with a few precious exceptions. How wonderful. How very wonderful.)

“Uh, Shiraishi,” Kintarou flails around excitedly. “So what ‘type’ am I?”

“If you’re talking about a ‘general type’, then can he be considered shota, Shiraishi?” Chitose wonders, scratching his chin.

“Technically,” Shiraishi replies, then leans forward and ruffles Kintarou’s wild, messy red hair. “But you don’t have a ‘couple type’, Kin-chan.”

“Eh?” the boy whines, clearly unsatisfied. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t,” Shiraishi states simply. “You can be our adopted child, though.”

“You and whose?” Kenya asks, and Koharu and Yuuji lean over him, both staring Very Intently at a Smiling Too Pleasantly Shiraishi.

Shiraishi and Chitose exchange a look and Kenya sighs. Zaizen proceeds to look outright disgusted and Koharu and Yuuji burst into a fit of giggles so violent they manage to flatten Kenya underneath the both of them. (At this, Kintarou gets very distracted and decides to pounce Kenya as well, effectively dragging Zaizen into the impromptu-Kenya-flattening by sheer force.)

And it is at this very moment that Gin decides to walk by and stare at the Epic Duo of Shiraishi and Chitose (both of whom are looking down at the pile of bodies on the floor and laughing).

“You two just pretended and did all of this for the kicks, right?” Gin sighs, because he is the All-Knowing One and he…knows.

Shiraishi eyes him innocently and Chitose does a mock impression of a cherub.

“Who, us?”

END.

To erase_away

2008-12-18T10:11:47Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Rating: G
Character/Pairing(s): Dino/Hibari (of sorts?) + Mukuro
Warning(s): AU. Dino and Hibari are children. Hibari’s more of the ‘mentor’ here, and suspiciously smart for someone so young.
Summary: In which everyone is eternally young, Hibari is nasty, and Dino fails at life.

1. Growing Up

They’ve always been told how close they seem.

Hibari doesn’t like it. It’s just because their mothers were friends, so he had been forced to play with the stupid blond and share his sandbox with the other kid.

No fair!

Dino Cavallone should just scram.

He didn’t like the goofy and positive kid who always made it seem as though it was virtually impossible for anyone to rain in on his parade. Not fair. Not fair at all. Hibari Kyoya was jealous of this ability; jealous that how can you still be so happy? despite everything, despite the nasty comments the kid received just because he was Italian and blond and in Japan.

But Hibari still stuck around the boy. He hated Dino’s guts, he hated his stupid grin, but Dino…that was a different matter altogether, really.

After all, they were only five.

There was still plenty of time left.

2. Learning

“It’s not this way.”

By the time they’re six, Hibari had grown colder, more ruthless – and Dino…Dino was still Dino. Happy, joyful, so many things Hibari just wasn’t and dared not touch because Hibari Kyoya was afraid of being happy, though the idea itself was hideously absurd.

For which child didn’t wish to be happy and content?

The idea was passed around for awhile, till --

Hibari Kyoya saw beyond the boy’s gleeful smile and light words and airy laughter. Hibari sees through everything.

And he finally realizes, one day in school, during recess, that Dino wasn’t happy at all.

But that would be saying it wrong.

Dino Cavallone was happy, only because he refused to look at the bad things in life; he was afraid of facing reality, in all its harshness and brutality. This was painfully naïve and hopelessly optimistic, in a way.

When Hibari affirms this to be the truth, it’s all he can do to not whirl around and bite the blond to death (literally).

Because this just managed to prove it.

Dino stood for everything he hated.

3. Departure

When the time came for the two of them to depart, Hibari thought that he had never felt any happier since that one time he defenestrated a television set from the second storey of his kindergarten.

They were seven, and Hibari thought it was about time Dino grew up, anyway. The boy couldn’t stay a boy forever, and it was the same for himself, too.

Dino needed to return to Italy for a ‘better education’, or so his mother claimed. The blond himself seemed to reject this, clinging on to the arm of the sofa in the living room and sobbing into an already-soaked cushion.

When Hibari told him to ‘stop destroying private property’, he only bawled harder.

4. Communication

Overseas, Dino still somehow manages to contact Hibari.

When the latter opens his inbox one day, he finds a poorly-written email chock-full of typos and grammatical errors Sasagawa from Class 2C would’ve considered EXTREME!

So Hibari thinks, WTF, and types back a reply without reading. Going through the text would be just masochistic of anyone.

An email from Dino arrives the next day and Hibari honestly considers trying to cockblock the boy online because I told him not to reply back, WTF? But at least Dino wasn’t keysmashing over in Italy, Hibari notes blandly, because he actually has the punctuation all down this time round.

So he replies.

And thus began their never-ending volley of emails back and forth for an entire year.

Then one day, Dino sends Hibari an email filled with Italian gibberish and English and absolutely zero kanji.

Hibari just WTFs some more because all the English he can read is pointing him off in some really weird directions.

Back…to…Japan? Hibari squints at the screen. Wait, what?

That idiot was coming back?

5. Reunion

They’re nine.

Hibari notes how Dino has grown. He’s still smiling - forever smiling – but his brown eyes were actually somehow more knowing now. But Hibari doesn’t want to believe that the boy’s grown. After all, they’re only nine. Still far away from real maturity.

Dino’s mother gives him a cellphone and says, From Italy, and Hibari can only think: My God, freebies.

So Hibari and Dino register the other’s number on their respective phones – because his mother got him one too, he says – and after their mothers are done greeting each other at the airport, it’s all see you again soon, goodbyes, and Dino is laughing, laughing, and telling Hibari to text him because he’ll be bored at home.

Hibari splutters, nearly chucks the phone at Dino, but it’s all good down his avenue because about five minutes later, Dino’s the one texting him and ranting about Italy.

So Hibari sighs, and tells him that he’s footing the bill for all his SMS’es.

Dino actually had the cheek to agree.

6. Epilogue

“I don’t believe it,” Hibari mutters, and Mukuro glances over his shoulder at the cellphone Hibari’s holding.

They’re in school, and hanging around each other during recess time. Mukuro had decided to conveniently class-hop and found Hibari in the middle of a text-relay on his cellphone.

“What?” Mukuro questions, then points at the cell’s screen. “What’s up with that?”

“This is so WTF I can’t WTF anymore,” Hibari can’t seem to get the right words to describe the situation. “How do you reply to someone who lacks Epic?”

Mukuro chortles, then snatches Hibari’s cellphone away from the boy, punching in a few letters in capslock. “Here,” he shoves the thing in Hibari’s nose. “Send this. Perfect for anyone who fails at life. I invented it.”

Hibari glances at what Mukuro has typed.

WTF IS THIS FAGGOTRY, he thinks, but sends the message anyway.

+

When Dino opens Hibari’s message and sees the 'LOL FAIL' there, he splutters and refuses to reply.

+

Hibari wonders if Dino cried after reading that.

THE END.

To pearlchasm

2008-12-16T05:21:56Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji x Katekyo Hitman Reborn Crossover
Rating PG-13
Character/Pairing(s): Mukuro + Sebastian. (Implied? I don’t know.)
Warning(s): Lots of OOC. Also, kudos to you if you can understand my writing and the concepts involved. And time is warped in Hell. Just so you know.
Summary After being ‘dealt with’ by Byakuran, Mukuro is sent back to Hell temporarily…where he meets one of his old acquaintances.

+

The very air burns his already parched and dry throat – the pain is searing, burning, stabbing at his lungs like daggers to his sides.

It hurts.

And Mukuro wakes from his slumber – but he couldn’t call it that, for all he had seen in those dreams were visions of death, destruction and fire; nothing like the heady illusions he was so accustomed to visiting – his eyelids feel impossibly heavy.

It’s a chore to even pry them open, and his tongue feels thick in his mouth. It’s as though he’s been to Hell and left there without a return ticket.

It takes a little while for Mukuro’s eyes to grow accustomed to his surroundings. The walls of the room seemed to be more likely those carved out from rock by the natural flowing of water over the years, rather than by man. He blinks, and pain sears itself through his nerves, white-hot, and he almost blacks out again. His vision is blurred and speckled with black – his eyes so dry they hurt at the most minute of contact.

“Rokudo Mukuro,” someone speaks. The voice is cold, soothing, and silky smooth – every syllable tinted with the refreshing hint of a foreign accent, wrapping themselves around the dry, dry surroundings and almost literally giving life and moisture to the dusty air. It’s like an oasis filled to the brim with ice-cold water smack in the middle of the Sahara.

And at the sound of the person’s voice, Mukuro jolts awake.

He splutters a little and doubles over from the pain that just shot up his spine. His back muscles feel sore, his feet are numb, and his thoughts are cloudy, distorted, unclear.

The cave-like room he’s in looks familiar as well, but Mukuro cannot for the life of him remember exactly what. His head’s too busy swirling and pounding; thick blood rushing all at once to circulate throughout his entire body. It’s a little too overwhelming even for him, really.

Someone shuffles closer, and sits down on the bed, beside him. Mukuro knows because his ears can still hear – and they caught the low thudding of precise and measured footsteps, and the rustling of clothing like the rippling of wind through a forest. The springs in the bed creak in protest as the extra weight is added onto them.

“My, my, Mukuro,” the voice whispers, unnervingly close, the man’s breath warm on the shell of his ear. “How, pray tell, did you wind up in such an unfortunate state?”

Mukuro snarls, his right eye throbbing painfully. “Turn on the lights,” he spits, and the man laughs – a rich, throaty noise. Mukuro catches a faint glint of vivid red – darker than blood – and realization slowly starts to trickle like the beginnings of a new waterfall into the cloudy wellspring of his mind.

“Sebastian,” he manages a snide little smile – it curls the corners of his cracked and dry lips – at the other man, when a pale, yellow glow blossoms from overhead to illuminate the room. Mukuro tries to laugh, but the sound comes out a little to flat and lacking in force. “What’re you doing here?”

Sebastian, decked out in that black butler’s coat he always wore for work – it seemed to be something of a permanent resident in his wardrobe – chuckled, and Mukuro notes how the man still hasn’t changed from back when the two first met.

“As elegant and slippery as usual, I see,” Mukuro says, life returning to his pallid face and energy to his voice. “Again that gaudy coat-jacket-thing from England, and your eyes still haven’t changed.”

Sebastian laughs, and reaches out one of his gloved hands to cup Mukuro’s face. The latter smiles, snarky, and daring him to do something, anything.

“And…as for you, this is different, isn’t it?” Sebastian runs a finger over Mukuro’s lips – the stainless white fabric of the gloves is smooth enough not to hurt, but rough enough for Mukuro to feel. “How did you wind up here again?”

“I should be asking you that,” Mukuro bats Sebastian’s hand away from his face, laughing out loud at the other man’s surprised expression. (He’s close enough to get a close up of the demon’s red, red eyes, too close to Sebastian to view his face in full, but it’s enough because Mukuro knows how to read a person’s eyes.)

“At night, when the Young Master is sleeping, I come back here,” Sebastian backs away from Mukuro, gesturing about the room. The smile on his lips is seductive in the wavering light, and he is just as Mukuro remembers him. Everything about the man dripped danger – the sort of sleek, intoxicating poison that dripped its dark purple droplets down, down, further down, but everyone just couldn’t get enough of. It had been that way since the very beginning.

“All residents of the Underworld return to their original ‘homes’ when they return to ‘Hell’, and I am no exception,” Sebastian talks a few steps around the cave-room-like place, the polished tips of his shoes glinting under the faint light. “You, too.”

Mukuro has to force down a terse snort, but gulping made his throat ache. “It’s not my fault we were born in the same place.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian murmurs, a wry smile on his lips as he gazes down at Mukuro, whom was still seated down on the bed. “You were my brother once, after all.”

Mukuro glares up at the man, a quiet sort of resentment burning in his eyes. His blue hair, limp with his own sweat, clings to the sides of his neck and face uncomfortably. “Don’t remind me,” Mukuro chortles, eyeing Sebastian, his gaze sharper than knives and colder than ice. He points a lazy finger at the butler. “We’re no longer related now, anyway.”

“I know. We parted ways a long time back when I signed my first contract with a human, and you started going through your Six Cycles of Hell. But that still doesn’t answer my question as to why, Mukuro, are you here at such an ungodly hour?”

“I was put out of business a short while ago somewhere above,” Mukuro says, then catches the gleeful albeit curious look in Sebastian’s eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, Sebastian-chan,” he laughs. “But I’m not going through another five hundred years of fire for your sadistic pleasure again. This is only temporary. I’m supposedly in ‘suspended animation’, as they would say.”

Sebastian scowls, slightly disappointed. “Who did this?”

“Byakuran,” Mukuro answers, and his thirst for revenge slides onto his facial features in the form of a hungry smile. “You don’t know him.”

“That’s true,” Sebastian affirmed, nodding and inclining slightly to the right, titling his head to get a better view of Mukuro – still worn-out after the tussle with the Gesso’s Boss, but his dark leather clothing and appearance showed no trace of ‘blood’ or ‘injury’.

That was what happened after you ‘died’, Sebastian assumes. Your mortal wounds are healed before you get trialed in Hell. But Mukuro can bypass the Judgment, can’t he?

“But you didn’t have to lose to him and end up in such a state,” Sebastian cannot help but to want to rub it in Mukuro’s face. It’s far too great a chance to pass up, really.

“Don’t sweat it,” Mukuro retorts right back, smirking. “Even now, I still maintain contact with the world above.”

He catches the expression on Sebastian’s face.

“What?” he laughs, waving airily at the other man. “You should know me better than to be surprised at something so minor. After all, I’ve gotten out of much worse, haven’t I?”

“You didn’t use to recall any of your past incarnations before you had that eye implanted into you,” Sebastian notes, almost blandly and with much distaste. (Not that the man in any of his previous lives had lost much of his sharp wit and equally sharp tongue, though.)

Mukuro’s slender fingers ghosted over the skin around the area of his right eye, his touch light and delicate. He remembered how much it hurt when Byakuran had just smiled, reached down two fingers, and gouged that very same eye out. But it was back now, he presumed. He’d had his eye taken out in the past. It always came back, like some form of an endless curse.

And as long as that eye was with him, he’d continue living right until the end of the world.

An eternal cycle.

“Those scientists did it,” he breathed, closing his tired eyes and resting. “Blame them.”

“But, Mukuro,” Sebastian bends down lower, and his face is close, so close; about an inch away from Mukuro’s, but the latter doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Such an action was expected of Sebastian, after all. Mukuro knew the man loved invading his personal space. (And he notes with a bitter smile how much Hibari’d hate Sebastian’s guts if the two ever met.)

“Whatever possessed you to lose that badly?” Sebastian persisted in his questioning. “You’re not as perfect as you claim to be, it seems.”

“I never did claim I was something of the likes,” Mukuro pointed out, hauling himself over to the edge of the bed. “Unlike you.”

Sebastian chuckles – the sound is low and inexplicably venomous. “Of course,” he states, with an air of mock triumph. “I don’t have what those humans possess – something as weak as emotion.”

“If you lack emotion, you lack feeling, and in turn, passion and desire,” Mukuro gets to his feet, and finds that he’d unconsciously emphasized on that last word. “And if you lack desire – to me, you’re as good as dead.”

Sebastian looks the man in the eye, and a completely blank look is passed between the two. But for them, and them alone, that one look spoke volumes.

Oh, it did.

“I was never alive to begin with,” Sebastian picks his words out carefully. He arches an eyebrow at Mukuro, who has already stridden past himself, to the wooden door (the entrance and exit alike) of this little room.

“Of course,” Mukuro pauses at the door, a hand already placed tentatively on the rough and splintered wooden surface.

“Being perfect, Sebastian, is your one and only flaw.”

“And why is that?”

“You have no human weakness, no human emotion - but I do.”

Sebastian crosses both arms over his chest, all the while glancing at the golden pocket-watch he held in one of his gloved hands. His time here was almost up till he had to return back to that life of serving his ‘Young Master’ in the morning – but Ciel was his to control, his to ultimately manipulate when it came down to the core of matters; so Sebastian could afford to wait. That boy's soul was his, after all.

“Are you telling me that that makes you perfect, then, Rokudo?” His voice is soft. Whispering. Dangerous.

And Mukuro laughs. He laughs; heartily.

“Wrong,” he says,

And pushes the door open.

“This is about where you and I differ.”

He takes a single step outside, long hair strands of hair swishing about, alive behind him. (Once a vivid blue, now dark in the mellow light.)

And Mukuro smiles, over his back.

“Because I, Sebastian, am alive.”

END.

To xtiggzie

2008-12-14T08:31:34Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Kuroshitsuji
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing(s): Lau, Sebastian
Warning(s): Possible OOC.
Summary: To Sebastian, the only human he can be truly wary of is Lau. (The man is dangerous. Very dangerous.)

+

The air reeks of opium, and the heady scent is thick in the musty air. All around him he could see the ‘customers’ – mostly men - sprawled over their assigned mats and on cushions, puffing away on one of those thin, sleek pipes, with scantily-clad Chinese girls draped all over their fat, protruding bodies.

Sebastian wrinkles his nose in distaste, wondering idly to himself if the black leather long-coat he had on would reek of the drug later on. It wouldn’t do to have the marble hallways of the Phantomhive household filled with the giddy stench of something technically illegal, after all.

“Oh, Sebastian?”

Sebastian’s eyes flicker their gaze onto the man not far from him. Lau’s face is thinly veiled under the shadows, but Sebastian can see the man smiling impishly at him - slender, pale fingers curled around the shaft of a pipe and sharp features almost feline in the dim light.

“What brings you here?” the Chinese man conducts himself with poise; his voice is calm and collected. He waves the pipe in Sebastian’s direction. The butler can see the thin wisps of smoke rising from the head, curling and twisting, rising till they seemed to almost dissolve into the already-scented air.

Sebastian replies him smoothly, without batting an eye. “On business for the Young Master,” he says, and pulls a sheaf of papers out of a coat pocket with an overdramatic flourish. He hands them over to Lau, who seems hesitant to accept the huge stack of information. “This is what you requested from the Phantomhive household.”

“Oh?” Lau holds one of the papers up to the light, squinting at it. Amidst the muggy heat of the opium den he ran, the stone wall at his back still felt icy cold, even through the fabric of his Chinese clothing. “This’ll be a big help regulating the opium imports into England, then.”

He tucks the papers into one of the large sleeves of his robe and chuckles at little at Sebastian’s all-too-apparent disgust at the den.

“This place,” Lau gestures at the messy, sloppy scene, “Brings out the worst in most people, does it not?”

Sebastian only has to take one glance at the distant, ecstatic and dreamy expressions on those dirty faces to agree with Lau wordlessly. It was disgusting.

Humans were disgusting.

Weak little things - so easily corrupted and led astray; so easily tainted and tempted by vices. And that wasn’t the worst part of everything.

Man was ugly to the core – a fact Sebastian knew all too well.

Lau sighed (and Sebastian noted blandly how his eyes seemed almost perpetually shut, as thin as slits) and dislodged himself from his previous resting position on the wall. “It’s an ugly trade,” he admits, “But that’s a ‘human’ for you. Always looking for more even in places like these.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued at Lau’s elaborate choice of words – so carefully picked out, but underneath the placid and soothing tone lay something far more knowing and far more dangerous than he dared imagine.

There were many things about the man that he did not know.

Lau laughs, a light sound, voice airy with the hints of his foreign accent. “Tell Ciel that I know I owe him one now,” he requests, and Sebastian bows to show that he understood. “And, Sebastian, one more thing I’d like to ask you.”

“Go ahead,” Sebastian straightens and eyes the other man, surprise bubbling just beneath the cold surface of his emotionless red eyes.

“Is it useful having someone like you around?” Lau asks, and Sebastian cannot help but to think that his question was a fair bit too sinister to be something casual and out of the blue.

So he muses and ponders his reply for a short while.

“I wouldn’t be too sure myself,” Sebastian smiles, bright and innocent but not quite because he knows that Lau knows. The Chinese man seems to understand and see through the queerest of things at times.

“I see,” Lau murmurs, looking up at Sebastian and opening his eyes just a crack.

Sebastian recognizes the look in his eyes. It’s silent, deadly, all too predatorily knowing and he comes to the simple conclusion that he was right. Lau knew strange things; he knew, and to underestimate him would be one’s downfall.

“Well then,” Lau smiles all too cheerily (his eyes shut once more), waving Sebastian goodbye. “Send Ciel my regards.”

Sebastian bows ceremoniously.

“I will.”

Humans are ugly and twisted creatures, he decides, making his way up the stone staircase.

Some even more poisonous than demons.

Lau just happened to be one of them.

END.

To faded_dorothy

2008-12-10T15:31:24Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn x Prince of Tennis AU!Crossover
Rating: G + CRACK
Character/Pairing(s): Mukuro, Hibari, Shishido, Choutarou (Atobe as minor character)
Warning(s): OOC, and my first time writing for PoT.
Summary: Mukuro and Hibari are tennis regulars at Namimori High, called over to Hyotei to ‘practice’ with the regulars there. What happens when Mukuro and Atobe start GM’ing at each other, and Hibari, Shishido and Choutarou watch? Insanity in its purest form, that’s what.

+

“Mukuro,” Hibari growled, under his breath, “Would you care to explain why are we here, exactly?”

Mukuro laughed, watching as Hibari fell into step beside him, still scowling. “We’re here for practice, of course.”

“What practice?” Hibari questioned flatly, looking down at the sidewalk, not really caring where Mukuro was leading the both of them.

The two of them rounded another bend, and Hibari looked up, slightly taken aback by the ridiculous size of the school before him. For the love of God, it was huge. It looked more like a palace than a school, really. The sandy pathway leading up to the Grand Entrance was even neatly lined with pots of vibrant roses at regular intervals, and everywhere on the school’s front ‘yard’ he looked was carpeted by a soft layer of pale green grass.

“Is this even a school?” Hibari muttered, glancing sideways at Mukuro, who had stopped to stare at the large signboard that announced the school’s name in gold, embossed letters nailed onto the brick wall encircling the building.

“Well, this thing says it’s Hyotei Gakuen, so this must be it,” Mukuro pointed at the signboard, proceeding to stride over to the intercom machine attached to the metal grilles of the gate. He pressed a button, and awaited a response.

A smooth rush of static, then –

“Excuse me?” Mukuro spoke into the machine, his voice taking on a strange, foreign sort of quality Hibari was not accustomed to. It was the voice of someone who made a living cheating people of their money on the streets – Mukuro was a born con-artist, through and through. “We’re the representatives from Namimori High, here to see the Hyotei regulars. I believe they arranged for a meeting, no?”

Hibari leant on the wall beside Mukuro, glaring impatiently at his own fingers, arms folded over his chest. He didn’t have time for this.

So when the gates finally began opening, Hibari was naturally pleased about the progress they were making.

+

“This,” the boy grumbled, “Is not a school.”

Mukuro was leading Hibari to the tennis courts, all the while glancing at a brochure he nicked from a security guard in the guard office, which really resembled a hotel’s Information Counter more than an ‘office’. He raised an eyebrow at the black-haired boy, their footsteps resonating through the long corridors, off the marble tiles.

“It’s really too gaudy to be a school, huh?” Mukuro agreed, feeling a little dubious himself. Even his old school, Kokuyo, hadn’t been this flashy.

Hibari snorted. “What school? This thing’s a goddamned palace.” He waved about at the nearby classrooms and the building in general to emphasize his point.

“Good grief,” Mukuro sighed, chucking the brochure into a nearby garbage bin. “The number of courts they have is ungodly.”

“I suppose they even have a court set aside for the regulars somewhere,” Hibari squinted past the five-or-more tennis courts that lay before him. “This place is like a stadium.”

“Oh well,” Mukuro shrugged. “According to that brochure, the regulars’ court is just behind this monster-sized stadium. We’re going to be doing quite a fair bit of walking today.”

Hibari had never felt more temptation to ram his head into the nearest hard surface available.

+

“This is retarded,” Shishido grumbled, quite close to burying his face him his palms and bursting into tears out of sheer frustration. “This is absolutely retarded and don’t you dare try to deny it, Choutarou.”

Choutarou sighed. Their ‘training session’ of the day had consisted of inviting the regulars from Namimori High over to ‘practice’ (Yeah right, Shishido had snorted when Choutarou told this piece of news to him. Atobe’s going to hog everything.) with them – apparently, this was supposed to increase their exposure to different forms of technique. Namimori was considered a fairly strong school, after all, with its fair share of talents.

“How long has this been going on?” Hibari muttered, seated on the spectator’s bench, beside Shishido, resting his hand in his hand. “I’m going to die from a heatstroke soon.”

Choutarou glanced at the circular face of the clock behind the three of them, squinting against the harsh rays of the sun. “About thirty minutes, I think.”

Shishido and Hibari groaned in unison.

True to Shishido’s prediction, Atobe had indeed decided to give the Namimori regulars a ‘warm welcome’, and challenged Mukuro to a match right off the bat. Choutarou had been placed in charge of filming the whole thing, to which Shishido had ranted for a good five minutes about how selfish Atobe was being before Choutarou could convince him to calm down, Shishido-san, don’t blow up now, and sit down, please?

Hibari had joined the two of them soon after, deciding that it was best to leave Mukuro to his own devices. The man was one of Namimori’s Hidden Aces, after all. Mukuro did what he wanted and as he pleased on the courts. And apparently, Choutarou observed, Hibari and Shishido shared about the same sentiments about Mukuro and Atobe’s match.

That it was dragging on for way too long.

“Good thing that Oshitari and Gakuto have excuses to skip this,” Shishido resumed his ceaseless grumbling, and Choutarou felt quite helpless in the face of this sort of situation. “Kabaji’s off to find Jirou again, and I’m stuck here with you and Hibari, watching two idiots go at it for thirty minutes.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Hibari said, and Shishido didn’t miss the snide undertone in the boy’s voice.

“And what’s so interesting about this!?” Shishido near-yelled, leaping to his feet.

“Shishido-san!” Choutarou grabbed his senior by the shoulders and forced the squirming boy back onto the bench. “Just pray they’ll finish soon…?”

Shishido spluttered. “Choutarou, I don’t believe in God.”

“You can try,” Hibari snorted, whacking Shishido viciously over the head, which resulted in a string of colorful vocabulary from the latter. Choutarou winced, picking up the camcorder from the surface of the bench and resuming the filming process, trying his best to ignore the two squabbling boys beside him.

And he froze.

“…Hey, Choutarou?” Shishido raised an eyebrow in surprise, noticing the boy’s sudden silence. “What’s going on?”

“Look at the score,” Choutarou managed, his voice hoarse.

“What..?” Shishido turned to stare at the board, and promptly choked. “Hey, what the hell?”

“Atobe’s losing?” Hibari voiced aloud both their thoughts, a snide smile curling on his lips. “Well, that’s Rokudo for you, I guess.”

“What sort of monster is he?” Shishido gaped at the blue-haired boy, racing from end to end of the court to return Atobe’s shots.

“An insane one,” Hibari supplies. “Atobe’s ‘insight’ won’t work against him.”

This time, it’s Choutarou’s turn to splutter in shock. “What? He doesn’t have any blind spots?”

“No, but he has a magical eyeball,” Hibari said, then caught the incredulous WTF? on Shishido’s face. “No, seriously, he does.”

“…Right.”

“Oh, crap,” Choutarou breathed, his eyes fixed on the court. “Shishido-san, I think you’d better have a look at this.”

Shishido had a very hard time trying to get the words out of his throat after that. “What are those two doing!?” he screeched. “They’re god-modding like hackers!”

“Ootori,” Hibari spoke up, “What have those two used so far?”

Choutarou frowned, counting the techniques off with his fingers. “Well, quite a few, really. They’ve swept past everyone from Seigaku, they’re done with Higa, Atobe’s copied off everyone on Hyotei, Mukuro-san just Tezuka zone’d, and I think they’re done with Fudomine.”

Shishido snorted. “Even all of Echizen’s Drives?”

“Yeah, and I think Atobe invented a Drive E halfway through.”

“…Wonderful.”

“If I’m not wrong, all they have left to pull out are the stunts from Rikkaidai and the Three Doors of Muga,” Hibari pointed out.

“Great,” Shishido snorted, glaring at Atobe. “FuuRinKaZan, and…Jesus H. Christ, what was that !?”

Hibari shrugged. The two players were drowning in their own sweat and blasting the ball across the court faster than the eye could see. Any spectator would’ve be enraptured by the peculiar sight. What, could fourteen-year-olds be that impossibly epic?

“Ah, look,” he deadpanned. “Mukuro’s got that Dragonball Z arm on. The First Door of Muga’s opened.”

“Atobe will split the earth next,” Shishido betted. “And sparkle. Atobe’ll sparkle and split the earth into two.”

Choutarou shook his head, mouth drawn in a thin, grim line. “I don’t think it’s going to be that, Shishido-san. Look,” he pointed at the stance Atobe was assuming. “Armageddon.”

Shishido wanted to cry.

+

Epic Epilogue, because it was called for.

+

In the end, it was a tie.

Choutarou spent the rest of the day comforting a very irate and distraught Shishido.

Atobe accepted his defeat somewhat gracefully, remarking how Mukuro was a commendable opponent. (But he was still better, of course. Of course.)

Hibari kicked the near-dead Rokudo Mukuro all the way back to Namimori.

By the end of the day, they all lived happily ever after.

The End.

A/N: I FUCKING BUTCHERED EVERYONE. I APOLOGIZE. I'M SO SORRY. ))))):

# Baggage; Epsionage

2008-12-09T16:54:35Z

Title: Baggage
Author: nerrin
'Verse: OC - Epsionage
Claim/Characters/Pairing (whatever applies): Kishitari
Rating: G
Warnings (inc. Spoilers): N.A.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to me.
Summary: He never packed in excess.
Table/Prompt: Unthemed 6: Baggage

+

Kishitari lugs his two humongous bags up the almost-eternal flight of marble stairs. He still reckons that their dorm looked like a five-star hotel, complete with the overhanging glass chandelier and the obligatory red carpet, which he was leaving wet and soggy footsteps on.

Getting to the Midori High dorm for Special Students had been no easy feat, especially given the additional fact that it was pouring cats, dogs, and toads outside.

Miso’s pulling her own baggage up the steps beside him. She shoots him a sideways glance, and her gaze is questioning, obsidian eyes alive with the simple spark of curiousity.

Kishitari shakes his head, feeling the uncomfortable pull of the weight of the limp strands of his thoroughly soaked-through blond hair. He doesn’t have any explanation as to why he had been so taken with the red-haired youth standing out in the torrential downpour alone.

Alfred Marshall. Surely Miso found the boy intriguing as well.

So the two of them continue heaving their suitcases along, up the staircase, following close behind Merlo Yuhara – their temporary guide to the place, whose smoldering gaze never seemed to miss any single detail.

“Here,” Merlo intones softly, and drops a key into each of their hands once all three of them managed it up to the first storey. He meets Kishitari’s questioning gaze, and gestures at the long corridor behind him.

It really was like a hotel. (Kishitari notes the presence of the red carpet again.) Antique lamps lit the hallway at regular intervals, and the walls were lined by varnished oak doors, their brass handles gleaming in the soft, mellow glow given off by the lamps. And on each door, a plate was nailed, on which there was a number embossed in gold.

“Your keys,” Merlo states, matter-of-fact. “All the dorm rooms are on this floor, and this floor alone. There are a total of ten rooms, all spread out widely. The corridor loops around, and eventually joins to that opposite staircase,” he points to the staircase over on the other end. “Picture it as a U-shaped route. Attacked to each key is a tag with your dorm number. Retire for the day until you’re called.”

+

Kishitari still wonders how they’d be ‘called’. Via announcement, perhaps?

He stares at the baggage he’s thrown all over the queen-sized bed in the middle of his room. Merlo had been right – their rooms were huge. And well furnished, too. Miso had gotten the room next to his, so it was all good.

He sighs, undoing the hair-tie keeping his long ponytail up, and lets the wet strands of his hair loose. He picks up a comb from the mess he’s made on the bed, running it through the long strands.

Gazing at every last article of his baggage, he realizes that nothing is excessive, that he needs every last item, right down to the rather random ones.

He’s packed to stay, and this fact he knows all too well.

Thinking about it scared him, just a little.

END.

To keleosnoonna

2008-12-09T16:12:38Z

Author: nerrin
Fandom: D.Gray-Man
Rating: PG-13
Character/Pairing(s): Lavi/Kanda (of sorts) + Allen + Lenalee
Warning(s): I haven’t written for this fandom since the first day I was born.
Summary: A collection of oneshots, each written to a seperate song.

+

1) Together (Pokémon OP)

Everything started with Lavi wanting to take a simple picture of all three of them together.

Yes, three.

The redhead had had no trouble convincing Allen that – yes, they needed something of a memento (to remember the good times, he said) before they died fighting the Akuma.

Right.

Kanda, however, was strongly against this notion.

“Oh, come on!” Lavi whined, seated at the edge of the bed in Kanda’s room, having invited himself in without much ceremony at all. “Can’t you at least oblige me on this one? I know you hate social contact, but this is absurd! What if you die tomorrow? We won’t have anything to remember you by!”

Kanda, seated at his desk – head buried in hands, trying his best to ignore Lavi – whipped around, his long blue hair flaring out with the sudden movement. “Are you cursing me?” he near-yelled, temper already threatening to burst out at the wearing seams of his patience.

“Of course not!” Lavi countered, then held up a camera. “Just a picture, please? Come on, Yuu, it’s a simple request!”

“It’s not.”

“For the love of -” Lavi spluttered, leaping to his feet and striding over to Kanda, half-ready to wrench the boy off the tabletop. “Stop being such a wet blanket, okay?” he sighed, and Kanda merely scowled. “Who knows where all of us will go after this? Even I…I won’t be staying here forever, you know.”

Kanda looked up at Lavi. “You won’t?” he asked, still cautious.

Lavi laughed, a sound that hurt Kanda’s ears because it was still so hollow, even after all these years they had known each other. “Nope, I won’t. So…say cheese!” Lavi whipped out the camera from behind his back, snapping himself a candid shot of Kanda spluttering in surprise.

“Oi! Lavi!” Kanda shot to his feet, nearly toppling over his chair in the process. “Don’t take random pictures of me!”

“Why?” Lavi snorted, already running towards the door. “It’s not illegal, right?”

“Damn you -”

Kanda had already chased Lavi halfway down the corridor when the youth paused, whirled around, and ducked into Allen’s room. Kanda stopped outside the door, debating if he should risk it and enter. He knew what was waiting for him on the other side. (It wasn’t certain death, but a fate much worse, no doubt.)

Oh, to hell with it all.

And he kicked the door open.

+

2) Fight for all the Wrong Reasons (Nickelback) It may seem to start off angsty, but it’s really crack.

Allen doesn’t like it when Kanda and Lavi fight.

It goes on for ages, and it kills him – almost, but not quite – a little inside to know that two of the people he cares so much for are arguing.

Sometimes, he’s afraid they’ll never stop – that one day, they’d just sever all ties with each other. It’s terrible, really, being in a room next door to Lavi’s, then having to hear Kanda stomp over, demanding something and –

The worst part was the screaming. They’d yell at each other for days on end, almost regularly, and, Allen makes a mental note: ten at night. It was so punctual their arguments almost seemed ridiculous.

So he consults Lenalee.

She laughs cheerily, and tells him: You haven’t known those two long enough, silly. They’ll never abandon each other even if they die. That’s just their style.

Allen’s puzzled, but he doesn’t even need to pause to ponder what she meant –

About five minutes later, he walks in on Lavi and Kanda. He stares, stares some more, then tells them to don’t mind me, carry on, and runs off to find Lenalee again.

+

3) She Bangs (Ricky Martin) – RealWorld!AU

When Allen finds that his character’s HP has been reduced to near zero, that’s when he really starts to panic and start randomly smashing down on the buttons on the machine. Regrettably, that doesn’t land him with a combo; and two seconds later, he’s slain by Lavi.

“Oh, crap,” Allen groans, slapping at the monitor in frustration as Kanda looks on from behind, curiosity in his eyes. “That’s the – what, ninth time in a row? Lavi, you’re too good at this game!”

“My Exorcist is better than your Noah,” Lavi crows, from the other end of the booth, waving his arms about in triumph at the mini-crowd that had gathered.

All three of them had went to an arcade after school – Kanda had been dragged, of course – where Allen had recently discovered, much to his chagrin, that Lavi was a master at arcade games. He had an uncanny grasp of the controls, and the intensity in his gaze when he glared at the gamescreen was nothing short of relatively horrifying for someone usually rather casual in his mannerisms.

Needless to say, a Hidden Talent like him had attracted quite the curious crowd – comprised mostly of other teenage boys discussing in muffled whispers if the redhead was going to beat any of their highscores in the games.

“So,” Lavi says, laughing (a sound that could be heard above the noisy chattering in the arcade), “I’ll have a ten-in-a-row winning streak if I beat you the next round, Allen.”

“No way!” Allen protests, pointing an accusing finger at Lavi. “I’m quitting this. Kanda, you take over me for the last round.”

Kanda snorts, arms folded haughtily across his chest. “And why should I?”

Allen looks up at the scowling boy, then holds up a token. “I’ll pay?”

“Fine,” a devilish smile tugs at the corners of Kanda’s lips as he bends down, taking the token as Allen got himself off the stool. He sits down in Allen’s position after slotting the token in. “Lavi, prepare yourself.”

“Oh?” the redhead raises an eyebrow, emerald-green eyes sparkling with excitement. “Is Yuu a pro-gamer?”

“…Don’t call me that.”

GAME START!

Kanda eyes the monitor, taking in every detail of Lavi’s character, before smirking and announcing: “Lavi, you’re going down.”

Lavi chuckles. “Oh, really?”

A moment of silence passes between the two and Allen can only gape at the sheer amount of tension hanging in the air. Even the crowd around them is silent as the entire arcade seems to hold its breath for the two players.

“Hah!” Lavi exclaims suddenly, and the crowd does a collective jump. “You’re not getting away from me!” and he wrenches down so hard on one of the lever-like controls that Allen fears for one moment that the thing will break.

Kanda snarls. “Oh, shut up…AHA, COMBO BREAKER!” Kanda yells and slams down on a button hard enough for the machine to quake, and that’s all it takes for Lavi’s character to hit the dust.

“Oh, fuck,” Lavi says, annoyed. “You did it, Yuu. You really did it.”

A/N: C-C-C-C-COMBO BREAKER!

END.