Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Drabbles Master Post Pt 2

Continuing on from the last post...

Prompt: Tenipuri, TezRyo, Fairies.

Tezuka had stayed at the courts late, practicing against the serving machine until dark.  It was a common enough occurrence, but that evening turned out to be anything but ordinary.
He'd been cutting through the park on his way home, as normal, when a glint of light caught his eye.  After a moment's hesitation, his curiosity got the better of him, and he left the brightly lit path to head into the bushes.  The light had looked strange, not at all like a torch or car - it had the same sort of quality as moonlight, despite the fact that it was the night of a new moon.
When Tezuka found the source of the faint glow, he couldn't believe his eyes.  He took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, but it was still there when he placed them back on his nose.
Struggling in-between two bushes was a tiny person.  It looked male, wore loose white pants, had green hair, delicate features and bright golden eyes, but the most striking thing of all was the gossamer wings on its back.  They were shaped like a dragonfly's, and shimmered with an ethereal light.
It was caught in a spider web.  Tezuka was still half-convinced it was a hallucination, but that didn't stop him from reaching out and tugging on the strands.
The tiny fairy ceased its struggles, apparently only just noticing him.  Tezuka broke the web and caught the small form in his hand, then very slowly and carefully untangled the delicate wings.  They fluttered briefly once free.
"Are you alright?" Tezuka asked, raising his hand up to his face for a better look.  The fairy fit comfortably in his palm, and didn't seem to weigh a thing.
"Che, I was fine," the tiny being said grumpily, crossing its arms.  "...But thanks anyway."
Tezuka never imagined that fairies were big on pride - it wasn't something that ever came up in any childhood story he could remember - but acknowledged the begrudging gratitude gracefully.  "It was no trouble."  Then... "You're a fairy, aren't you?"
The fairy gave him a look that very much implied 'Are you stupid?'.
"I've never seen one before," Tezuka explained.
"Not many people do.  You're a weird one.  Normally only cats and little kids can see me.  You're, what, thirty?"
"I'm still in middle school," Tezuka was offended.  "I go to Seigaku."  Not that he expected the fairy to know where that was, but the look it gave him had him feeling the need to defend his words.
It fluttered up from his hand and hovered in front of his face.  Golden eyes examined him critically.  Tezuka felt like he was being inspected.  "Hey, what's your name?"
It was rude to ask for a name without giving your own first, but maybe fairies didn't have names.  "Tezuka Kunimitsu."
"Heh.  So, Tezuka - do you have a wish?"
Tezuka was briefly confused by the sudden turn in the conversation.  "A wish?"
"Yeah.  You helped me out, and you seem kinda nice - so I'll give you a wish.  Just one."
"You don't need to repay me.  All I did was a break a spider web."
The fairy rolled its eyes.  "That's for me to decide.  Besides, who turns down a wish?"
"I'm content with my life.  There's nothing in particular that I want," Tezuka replied patiently.
It flitted to his shoulder and perched there.  "I don't believe you."
"It's true."
"You can't lie to fairies.  We can see straight through you."
"I think that is the lie," Tezuka said.
The fairy crossed its arms and huffed.  Its wings flared out in the gesture and tickled the side of Tezuka's neck.
"Hey.  Don't you have anything you really want?" it wheedled.
"Nothing that you can grant me."
The fairy leapt into the air and buzzed in front of his face.  "So there is something."
Maybe it was the wonder and magic of finding a mythical creature that had Tezuka divulging more than he would normally.  "I have a goal," he confessed.  "I made a promise, two years ago."
"A promise?"
Tezuka raised his cupped hands to his face, and the fairy made itself comfortable in them.  "I play tennis.  Have you ever heard of it?"
It scoffed.  "Of course I have.  I know lots about human pastimes."
That made it easier.  "I've been playing since I was a child, and this year I was made captain of my school's tennis team.  We haven't made it past the Kantou tournament for several years."
He glanced up briefly, gazing into the star-speckled night sky.  "I was injured in my first year, you see.  I haven't been able to play properly for a long time.  But my elbow is almost healed, and soon I'll be able to play as much tennis as I want again."
"You really like tennis, don't you?" the fairy asked quietly.
Tezuka nodded.  "That's why I made the promise.  This year, I want to take my team to the Nationals."
"Then your wish will be granted."
Tezuka blinked.  "Excuse me?"
The fairy fluttered out of his hands, and pressed a kiss against his cheek.  It felt like the brush of a small feather.  "I'll be your fairy of victory," it said with a mysterious smile, flying back into the shrubbery.  With no further words, the fairy faded from sight.
It was though as a spell was broken.  It was dark again all of a sudden, and Tezuka had to fumble his way back to the main path. 
Cars rumbled past in the distance, and the streetlights buzzed and flickered.  Everything felt hyper-real, as though he'd just awoken from a daydream.  Tezuka raised his hand to his cheek, fingers hovering uncertainly over the skin there.  If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could almost still feel the magical touch of a tiny kiss.
Then the senior checked his watch, and nearly dropped his bag.  If he didn't hurry home, he'd miss curfew.
When he woke up the next day, Tezuka was convinced it had all been his imagination, or part of a very surreal dream.  He'd been overtired on his way home.  Fairies didn't really exist, after all.
That conviction held until five days later when a golden-eyed, green-haired transfer student turned up on Seigaku's tennis courts and introduced himself as Echizen Ryoma.
His fairy of victory had arrived. 

Prompt: Death Note/Bleach crossover, Light as a Vasto Lorde, L as a Shinigami Captain

Hell butterflies swarmed all over Soul Society, carrying urgent warnings and summons between each of the squads.
It was chaos. It was preposterous.  Hollows, directly attacking Soul Society?
It had happened before, of course - a group of shinigami would get overpowered and retreat to Soul Society, and the Hollows would recklessly follow that path in their bloodlust. But this many was bizarre. Even stranger was the fact that a Vasto Lorde had been sighted.
L wasn't particularly bothered, however.  Life in the Gotei 13 might not be particularly routine, but even at its most hectic it was certainly no strain on his intellect.  He calmly delivered his orders to his squad, then left his vice-captain in charge so he could head out to the battle himself.  The hotheaded captains of the other squads hadn't listened to his suggestions, as he predicted, so neither would he listen to theirs.  There weren't many opportunities to observe a Vasto Lorde, and it was the most interesting thing to happen for months – L was not going to miss out.  With any luck, he'd have something new to analyse and think about for a few weeks.
He shunpo'd barefooted across the tiled rooftops to the district the enemy had been spotted in.  He briefly descended to the streets to cleave through a weak Hollow that was causing grief for some lower seats.  Two swift strikes of his sword and it was gone.  He didn't stay to hear the thanks or admiration of the other shinigami.  His mind was solely focused on tracking that powerful reiatsu to the east.
It was very odd.  He was suspicious - everything about this intrusion was wrong. There were too many Hollows.  The Hell Butterflies had informed him that there were at least five Menos, eight Adjucas and countless lesser Hollows swarming all over Soul Society.  Capable of causing a lot of damage, certainly, but nothing that would rob them of any significant fighting strength.  What was unusual was the number of Hollows, and the way they were spread out and attacking different sectors, stretching the shinigami forces thin. 
Hollows weren't that organised.
The way the Vasto Lorde wasn't even attempting to hide his reiatsu was suspicious too.
The Vasto Lorde were powerful - L was quite aware of it.  Though there was little concrete evidence of their abilities, there were enough second and third-hand accounts passed down that one could reliably assume that they were at the very least on par with the captains of the Gotei 13.  But despite their power, they hadn't ever been much of a problem before - Hollows were, by their nature, disorganised, and it was a rare thing for even an Adjucas to wander into the living world.  There hadn't ever been a report of a Vasto Lorde leaving Hueco Mondo.
L had a variety of theories as to why that was, all unconfirmed - a dislike of the automatic suppression of power experienced in the living world, a preoccupation with fighting amongst themselves, or most likely of all, a lack of interest in humans as a source of food.  One thing that was well documented was the process by which more powerful Hollows were born - by consuming each other.  It was easy to imagine that for an Adjucas or Vasto Lorde a powerful Hollow might be a more enticing prey than even a spiritually powerful human.
In any case, it was strange that the strongest Hollow was not attacking yet also not bothering to hide.  If he gave this Hollow credit enough to organise its fellows, then he would also assume it would understand that if it didn’t soon intervene, its fighting force would be decimated and be forced to retreat, causing only superficial damage at best.

L's steps slowed, and the rusted strategic cogs of his brain - dormant for so long in a world where tactics and logic were more than enough to win any battle - began to turn.
What if this was merely a test?
His mind raced furiously.  What if this wasn't simply an attack, but actually a probing of Soul Society's defences?  A means of testing their abilities and their response to a threat?  It was ruthless, if so – the Vasto Lorde would be sacrificing a not insignificant number of foot soldiers.
Unless this Hollow had also managed to organise the other Vasto Lordes.  If that were the case, sacrificing this number of lesser Hollows was more than acceptable for the purpose of gathering information for a real attack.
What kind of Hollow was even capable of that sort of planning, though?
That was when he saw him.  The Arrancar.  And it all made sense.
The tall, regal figure, clad in white robes with black trimmings.  The aura of self-confidence.  The perfectly styled brown hair.  Those parts were the same, but the skin was just a little paler, and there was also the gaping hole in the abdomen.  Not to mention the broken mask, covering half of his face like some morbid parody of Phantom of the Opera.
“Only the most rotten of human beings could have ever become such a filthy Hollow.”
The Arrancar made a show of turning in his direction, even though L knew his presence had been noticed well before his arrival. The look of confidence and superiority disappeared as soon as he caught sight of L, however, and those fine features were twisted into an expression of ugly hatred.
L smiled thinly.  "I'm impressed you remember me, Light-kun.  It's been a long time."
One hundred and fifty-seven years, in fact.  This meeting was a surprise, but he expected nothing less from his nemesis. In a short one hundred and fifty years, he had climbed the ranks of the Hollow, all the way to the Espada if that ‘2’ – how it must grate him to not yet be the primero – on his side was any indication.  And he'd even managed to organise his fellows and win their loyalty.  It was no mean feat - easily on par with a soul making it from Rukongai scum to Captain in forty years.  L hadn't had to worry about his classmates eating him for strength.
The odds of their meeting in these circumstances were both astronomically small, and yet simultaneously almost inevitable. L was astounded to realise that he’d never even entertained the thought before. He had grown sloppy over the past one hundred and fifty years after all.
“Looking as shabby as ever. Are you really a Shinigami captain?”
“Of the twelfth squad,” L confirmed, but didn’t offer any information than that. Information was a precious currency between them – one didn’t give it away without expecting something of equal or greater return.
“I wasn’t planning to enter the battle, but if you’re here anyway…” Light smiled, but not that fake smile L had seen so many times in the past – it was the gloating, evil grin of Kira that he’d seen before his death.
It really was a long time ago. He didn’t hold any grudges or resentment over his death anymore, but the sight of that smile stirred a long-dead emotion within his chest.
L felt a much drier grin threatening to tug at the edges of his lips as he withdrew his zanpakutou.
At last, he had a challenge again.
Prompt: Tenipuri, Tezuka collects dolls and Ryoma is his trophy.



The key stuck in the lock. Tezuka jiggled it twice with a practiced motion then twisted it. This time, the lock clicked. He pushed the heavy wooden door open with his foot – his arms were occupied by the bulky package in his arms.


The scent of mothballs curled in his nostrils, but he made no move to open the windows, instead opting to switch on the air conditioner. It creaked and rattled to life, spewing cool air into the dark, claustrophobic apartment. He switched on the dehumidifier as an extra precaution, then a light switch.


A weak orange glow filled the room, revealing a hundred soulless eyes. Stacked along every wall, on every shelf, on every spare piece of unoccupied space sat a porcelain doll.


There were all varieties – some smaller than his hand, others almost life-size, some male, some female, some completely androgynous. Some wore modern clothes, others frilly dresses or historic regalia. Some were plain, some outrageously detailed. 


All were beautiful.


Tezuka shuffled forward to the only clear spot – the workbench – and carefully placed his burden upon it. He took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow and clean his glasses, before gently unwrapping the brown paper from his prize. The wrapping was shoddy, and not nearly the protection it deserved, and he felt even better for rescuing this <i>masterpiece</i> from the antique store. The proprietor was completely oblivious that he was selling <I>art</I> for a measly 2,000 yen.


Strands of green hair poked out through the wrapping, and were quickly freed, followed by a finely carved ear, then – the most beautiful feature of all – a pair of golden eyes that glittered like jewels. Tezuka spent a quiet moment admiring them. 


It wasn’t quite life-size – maybe a 9:10 ratio.  And it had a couple more points of articulation than usual. He could arrange a greater variety of poses that way, and it would make the matter of clothing easier. The face was perfectly sculpted; a delicate structure full of smooth and natural curves that would make any artisan green with envy. 


His brow creased when he saw the jaw-line, however. This was why the doll was so heavily discounted – the fracture, that started at the jaw and trailed down the neck onto the chest. The owner of the antique store told him it couldn’t be fixed – that trying to do would ruin the doll even more. And his opinion was not entirely off base – it would be slow and tedious to fix, and with such a delicate piece of work it was a bold risk to take. 


Tezuka thought it worth the risk. Soft-paste porcelain and some careful paintwork could probably do it. Things that were once broken but then fixed were more beautiful than those that remained flawless from the start. A great deal of his collection was comprised of restored works. He offered his services to museums, other collectors and antique dealers, and worked with a great many pieces of damaged art. 


He traced a finger over the cracked porcelain. It <I>was</I> pretty bad – were it any other doll, he would simply salvage it for parts - but Tezuka was determined. For this doll, he’d spend whatever time and money was necessary to restore it.


The night was wiled away, taking measurements, making plans and writing lists. He acquired materials the next day, sparing no expense. He grew absorbed in his work and forgot dinner. He cancelled his plans on the weekend to devote his attention to the project. Then the next weekend too. His friends worried, and tried to draw him from his apartment, and his customers chastised him for not taking on enough projects – he only took on enough to cover his expenses, wanting to devote the rest of his time to the amazing doll he’d found.


Days soon became weeks, and weeks became months. Then on Christmas Eve, Tezuka stood back and admired his work.


It was even more beautiful now that it was fixed. It was… perfection. Tezuka was reluctant to use the word, but nothing else would suffice.


“You need a name,” he decided, and thought on the matter for a moment. Though the doll was made in a western style using materials popular more with American and French doll makers, its features were rather Japanese. “…Ryoma.”


The golden eyes glittered in the dull orange light, and Tezuka decided that the doll was fond of its name.


Tezuka thought that now that Ryoma was restored, he would be able to return to his social duties and resume his previous workload. He felt bad for missing the busy Christmas season while immersed in his project, and resolved to make up for it in the New Year. 


It was difficult to leave the doll alone, however. Whenever he had a spare moment, he found himself staring at it, lost in its fragile beauty. It was such a unique creation, and every doll he’d worked on since seemed so boring and lifeless. He soon found himself spending his spare moments maintaining Ryoma – checking the paint, untangling the hair, brushing the dust away and changing its clothes every other day. He normally bought most of the clothing from a speciality store and modified it to suit, but he made all of Ryoma’s clothes by hand. He also normally only created one outfit per doll, but there were so many possibilities with Ryoma that he couldn’t choose which outfit would best suit him.


He knew he was obsessed. He didn’t need to see Oshitari’s raised eyebrows or Oishi’s concerned looks or the flood of orders from Atobe to understand that he’d allowed himself to become far too singularly focused. But Tezuka felt guilty every time he turned off the light in his workroom each evening. It was as though by leaving the room, Ryoma ceased to breathe. 


He started sleeping in the workroom.


His orders grew fewer after Hinamatsuri passed and Summer arrived. Tezuka was having difficulty recalling whether that was normal for this time of year, or if his customers had become dissatisfied with his work. Although Atobe had stopped sending him dolls to be fixed – maybe there <I>was</I> a connection. And Fuji kept sending him letters about various girls that he should come meet who would be fascinated to hear about his work.


None of them had green hair or golden eyes, however, so Tezuka turned down every invitation. And soon those stopped coming too.


“They don’t understand,” Tezuka murmured. “It’s strange to them.”


Glassy golden eyes stared into space. Tezuka took that as his cue to continue.


“True art is more than just aesthetics and technique. It requires emotion, and heart. Through it even the inanimate can take on a life of its own.”


Pale lips and feathery eyelashes remained unmoving.


“Meaning and value are subjective. If someone works hard at something, it’s valuable to him.” Tezuka approached Ryoma, and cupped the chin with his hand. The porcelain was cool against his fingertips.


“You are the most valuable doll I own,” he whispered.


The chest remained still of breath.


A little desperately, Tezuka pulled the doll to his chest in a fierce hug. But the legs dragged uselessly across the dusty wooden floor, and the arms remained stiff and could not return the embrace.


It wasn’t fair. Tezuka was seized by a sudden burst of frustration and anger – he’d poured so much time and love into it, and yet it wasn’t even capable of responding to his voice or supporting its own weight! What was the purpose of spending his days like this if even this masterpiece couldn’t give his life meaning?!


He reached out, and slapped the doll across the face. No sooner than his hand had passed, however, than he froze in horror as Ryoma began to fall limply sideways.


He reached out instinctively, to try and catch it, to halt its fall, but Tezuka was too slow and unable to take back his moment of carelessness. With a terrifying ‘crunch’, Ryoma hit the ground.


Then, as though in slow motion, the crack reopened. From the perfect jaw line, splintering along the smooth neck until a spider web of cracks appeared above the heart.


The apartment remained silent save for the creaky rattle of the air conditioner and the dull hum of the dehumidifier.


Tezuka dropped to his knees, and gathered the dolls in his arms. Shards of porcelain caved in, revealing the ugly, dark emptiness inside.

Prompt:  Reborn/Bleach crossover.

Tsuna carefully measured each of their opponents. He was confident in his Guardians, but was beginning to second-guess his decision to agree to this duel of sorts. It was bringing back the bad taste of that ring conflict so many years ago.


The weight of the crystal in his pocket seemed immeasurably heavy. He almost couldn’t believe that all the odd conflicts that had been occurring in Karakura town – an insignificant part of their territory, but their territory none-the-less – were all because of this object. It must have been a powerful weapon indeed.


Which was exactly why Tsuna was reluctant to hand it over after Mukuro stumbled upon it. He wanted to destroy it, but Gianni hadn’t yet figured out how. He labelled it ‘a phenomenon on the same level as the ten-year bazooka’. 


Tsuna would rather that there wasn’t any fighting at all, but a controlled match to settle the matter was a great deal less destructive and more civilised than the open warfare or assassination attempts most of Vongola’s enemies normally resorted to. Reborn thought it was a great idea too, and Reborn almost invariably got what he wanted, so now Tsuna and his guardians were facing off with a rather unusual family that he hadn’t even heard of until they came into acquisition of that bizarre crystal.


“I really would rather that we didn’t need to mess with this sort of affair. It will be an uneven match.”


The short white-haired boy must be their leader, he concluded. It was a little disconcerting, but he’d seen much stranger in his time in the mafia. He was bit impressed to see a suit made in that size, though it shouldn’t have been so surprising given that Reborn didn’t have any trouble acquiring appropriate dress clothes either. Despite his age, he seemed pretty smart. Tsuna was a bit worried about fighting him.


It also seemed that they’d never even heard of the Vongola, which made him wonder if they were actually mafia as they claimed to be. Some ‘Gotei’ something. No one had any intelligence on them. He assumed they were new.


“I don’t really like resorting to violence either. Are you sure you won’t allow some more time for negotiations?” Gianni was sure to find a way to destroy it eventually.


“We can’t risk having a repeat of the last conflict,” he replied coolly. “So we agree, then? Seven duels, based on your ‘attributes’?” He glanced at the man wearing the green-striped hat and sandals. He was the only one not dressed in the usual black jacket and white shirt favoured by most of the mafia.


“Right you are, Hitsugaya-taichou,” he replied in a singsong voice. “We’ve assembled everyone necessary.” He bowed to Chrome. “Please go easy on me, little lady.” He was Mist, then. Well, Chrome could call on Mukuro if things got nasty. Vendicare had been treating him quite a bit better at Tsuna’s petitioning, so he ought to have the strength.


“It will be decided by the first to four victories, will it not?” the tall man with the long black hair interjected smoothly. “We’ll settle this quickly. Then we won’t need to rely on a criminal like yourself to fight.” Tsuna had trouble picking what attribute he was representing, but given the distasteful look he was giving Lambo, he must have been the Lightning. 


“Ara, how cold. After all the trouble I went to track it down for you too.”


“Yeah, you’re sort of full of yourself, Byakuya. I recall kicking your ass in the past,” the orange-haired teen commented with a scowl. Tsuna turned his attention to him next. He reminded him of Gokudera a little bit with his brash manner, so Tsuna tentatively labelled him as the opponent’s Storm candidate.


“Hey, don’t use Kuchiki-taichou’s first name so casually you strawberry-haired bastard! You really piss me off sometimes!”


Tsuna changed his mind – the redhead with the tattoos was definitely Storm attribute. The orange-haired guy was probably Sun, then – the more he thought about it, the more he reminded him of Ryohei. His Sun guardian was nodding fiercely. He’d probably come to the same conclusion.


“Renji, don’t make a fuss,” the group’s only girl hissed, then glared at the orange-haired one. “And Ichigo! Some decorum please!”


“Who the hell are you lecturing about decorum? I shouldn’t even be here – I’ve done my bit! But you guys couldn’t even clean up enough after yourselves to actually pick the damn thing up after all was said and done?!” He rubbed the back of his head and scowled. “It mightn’t matter for you guys with where you live, but if the mafia gets pissed off at me it’s going to be a problem. I should just leave!” And he looked about ready to as well, before the giant guy with the spiky hair and eyepatch Tsuna had been watching nervously from the corner of his eye most of the time intervened.


“Running away from a fight, Ichigo? Who cares if it’s not in Seireitei!”


“Zaraki!” the white-haired kid hissed.


“Don’t get your knickers in a knot, kid-captain. I know my orders.” He grinned maniacally at Ryohei, who met the one-eyed stare unflinchingly. “You’d better be strong, punk! I’ve been getting bored now that all the excitement’s over.”


“You’d better believe it! I’m EXTREME!” Ryohei hollered, not intimidated in the slightest. Tsuna might have been worried, but at least his opponent didn’t look like the brainy sort. If it turned into a battle of brute force, Tsuna was sure that Ryohei would win no matter how enormous his opponent was.


But if the scary guy with the scars was the Sun… Tsuna couldn’t figure out who exactly the orange-haired guy in the suit was. He’d thought Storm, and then maybe Sun, but was forced to revise that opinion as the meeting progressed. He seemed to come with his own set of rules, and any orders the others tried to give him were brushed off in favour of him making his own plan. Tsuna figured that maybe he was their Cloud guardian – it would account for his independent nature - but he couldn’t bring himself to put this person in the same category as Hibari.


Hibari seemed to think differently. He had that glint in his eyes – the sort he normally reserved for Tsuna and Reborn. “What is it, Hibari-san?” Tsuna whispered.


“He’s the strongest one they have,” Hibari answered, though Tsuna very much had the impression that his Cloud Guardian was talking to himself and not actually answering his question. He felt a brief stab of pity for the one called Ichigo.


“The first match will be Rain, then?” the white-haired shorty asked. Tsuna nodded in response. Yamamoto stepped forward with a smile, sword propped up on his shoulder. 


“I don’t really like fighting girls. Is this really necessary?”


Tsuna had been worried about this. He’d hoped that the girl would be Mist so that she would be matched against Chrome, or Storm so that she’d be against Gokudera – that way chivalry wouldn’t come into the picture. 


The girl withdrew a sword of her own, to his surprise. “I’m afraid so. Prepare yourself!”


Something about the sword seemed strange. Like it would do far more than just cut.




“I know, Hitsugaya-taichou. You can leave it to me.”


Perhaps it was the Vongola intuition at work, but Tsuna suddenly felt that this crystal was perhaps something his family would be better off without. That this fight was pointless and if they won it might actually be more dangerous than if they didn’t.


“What will you do with it?” he asked suddenly, before the blades could meet.


The white-haired youth held up his hand, and the girl lowered her sword. Cold eyes weighed him carefully. “We intend to destroy it. He-” he inclined his head towards the hat and sandals guy, “-found a means. A foolproof one, this time.”


“Do I have your word?” Tsuna asked.


“Tenth! You can’t trust these guys! They’re too suspicious!”


Tsuna didn’t respond to Gokudera’s entreaties, and just focused his attention on the opponent. He was often accused of being far too optimistic and seeing the best of people, but he was quite certain that there was no deception afoot. At least, no deception as to their intentions.


It would be a tragedy if either side were to lose a member of their precious family for no reason.


“You have my word. It’s in our best interest to have it destroyed. We’ve already tried once.”


His fingers closed around the crystal in his pocket. Tsuna didn’t hesitate. He withdrew the crystal and held it out. He could hear several of his friends and his opponents suck in a breath.


“You brought it with you?!” the red-head named Renji spluttered.




“There was nowhere safer for it,” he replied.


“That explains how they could all see,” Hitsugaya muttered. “Kuchiki-taichou.”


The serious-faced man with the long black hair stepped forward, bowed very, very slightly, and accepted the crystal from Tsuna. “You have made a wise decision.” Even though the words sounded grateful, Tsuna still felt like they were somehow threatening.


It didn’t bother him. He was confident that the crystal would be destroyed.


“Tenth! What if they use it! If they know how to destroy it-”


“It’s not our problem, Gokudera,” he replied with a smile. “They’ll definitely destroy it. Besides, even if they might look the part, they’re not mafia.”


“What? You mean I dressed up in these weird clothes for nothing?!” the red-head complained. “Urahara you damn-”


“But they’re so fetching, don’t you agree? And Rukia-chan pulls off the long skirt so well~”


“Shut up, getaboshi! You didn’t even bother wearing one! This was just an excuse to make fun of us.”


“Don’t be like that, Ichigo! We got the crystal, didn’t we? And this time my plan will definitely work, I’m sure of it! Things will be all quiet and peaceful again!”


Peace, huh? It sounded like a nice idea. Tsuna glanced sideway at his Cloud Guardian. Hibari was visibly annoyed at being cheated from his fight. The tenth boss of the Vongola sighed and pulled on his gloves. It looked like he’d have to make up for it.


It was small consolation that it looked like Ichigo was being bulled into the same thing by that Zaraki guy.

Prompt: TezRyo, high school sucks

Ryoma hates high school.
The classes are much harder. He still sleeps through English, but there’s too much homework to have enough time for everything after school. He has a choice between giving up extra tennis practice, playing with Karupin, socialising or sleep.
Burgers with Momo-senpai never stood a chance.
It makes him sort of sad, though, because the second thing he hates about high school is that Momo-senpai’s not there anymore.  Kaidoh-senpai is, and so are all of the seniors, but his best friend didn’t get good enough marks to get into the school, and has to attend one in the opposite direction. So sometimes Ryoma goes for burgers with Momo-senpai anyway, and has to give up sleep instead. And he hates high school because it makes him choose.
The third thing Ryoma hates about high school is that all his classmates can think about now is grades or girls. And the girls themselves are, if possible, even more annoying than what they were in middle school. They’re always giggling behind their hands and trying to talk to him on his way to tennis practice and bringing him their homemade bentou, as though he’d throw out Nanako’s far superior one to taste their ‘mada mada’ cooking.
The school’s also further away. Ryoma has to take the train now, and he’s late to practice every morning because he always misses. Then he has to run laps, which means even less time for playing tennis.
“Echizen.” After afternoon practice, Tezuka shoulders his racquet bag and waits by the door. “Are you catching the train today?”
“Just a second, Buchou,” he calls out and scrambles to change out of his jersey.
There’s one good thing about high school. He gets to ride the train with Tezuka every day.
“Would you like to get off at Haruno today?” Tezuka asks as they board the train.
Ryoma thinks about the two assignments he has due on Friday, and the exams the seniors have coming up, and the fact that he hasn’t played against his father for at least a week. But he finds himself nodding anyway.
Tezuka makes high school not so bad. Ryoma thinks he might go pro when Tezuka graduates, because he can’t bear the thought of another two years without his captain.

So, that's the lot.  (For now.  Unless there are people who haven't requested yet who post a prompt - though I'm closing it on Wednesday, Australia-time so better be quick.)  Some turned out pretty good I think, others not so much.  :)


( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 28th, 2008 10:59 am (UTC)
T.T the doll one was so saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad
Dec. 28th, 2008 06:46 pm (UTC)
Aww Sinn D= you didn't make them fight?
Dec. 28th, 2008 07:02 pm (UTC)
D=D=D=D= He broke Ryoma-doll!!!!
(Deleted comment)
Dec. 29th, 2008 05:22 am (UTC)
Aaaw...the fairy Ryoma is just too cute and the doll is so sad and heart-wrenching. *tears*
Jan. 1st, 2009 07:40 pm (UTC)
asdfghjkla;sdfghjkla;sdfgheaijlk;asdfweuiropasdfghjkl;asdfghjkl; SINN~

asdfghjkl;asdfghjkf;lreyuioewp[gjbnvcxlzfdfdfjgkl; *flail flail flail*

((cannot find any ability to be coherent right now))
Jan. 9th, 2009 06:08 am (UTC)

okay yeah i'll read the rest later but DOLLLL oh my god ;____________________;

that one is gorgeous and amazing and makes me think of er certain BJDs i'm saving for and oh my god tezuka that is AMAZING and WONDERFUL and perfect and oh oh oh ♥
Dec. 13th, 2009 02:55 am (UTC)

( 8 comments — Leave a comment )