Emissary From Nowhere

Some drabbles

2009-07-05T04:53:10Z

Hi! I'm not dead. It occurred to me a few days ago that I still had some prompts left from my drabble prompt list a year ago that I want to get done, so I decided to work on them. Unbeknownst to me, three of them were already done and I just hadn't gotten around to posting them, so here they are. The last one is a bit I just did in the past two days.

Series: Naruto
Character(s): Tayuya and Kidoumaru
Prompt: atonement, burning
Author’s Note: For monoshiri. In which I kind of fail at the prompt, but hell, at least it’s about the right characters. That’s something, right? Anyway, A/U and spoilers for manga chapters that came out about two years ago.
Word Count: ~1,200

“Fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

It had taken something less than three days of living as civilians for Kidoumaru to conclude they made terrible civilians. Their training in espionage, being zero, was not really up to the task of blending them in with a non-shinobi populace, and although they might have been able to use genjutsu to cover up the most glaring errors in their disguises (like, say, Kidoumaru’s extra arms, or the fact that no one as pale and red-haired as Tayuya or as dark as Kidoumaru could be anything but foreign this far west), there was only so much illusions could do. Even normal people were bound to notice fairly soon that Tayuya had about as much training in being a woman as she had in being a spy, or at least that their faked accents were terrible. Then there was the more minor stuff, like how Kidoumaru did all the shopping for fabrics and food when the gender-divide for duties here was really obvious, or how they always sat with their backs to walls and facing all the possible entrances to a room, or how… well, there were one-thousand and one things that pointed to them being outsiders (which they might have gotten away with) or shinobi (which they wouldn’t).

They probably could have picked a better town, one that had more bustling trade and therefore didn’t mind strangers (militantly-minded or no) so much, but their training in scouting had been about as thorough as their training in espionage, and their one goal had been to get out of the way, after everything. They had succeeded at that, eventually, at least after finding a retired medic-nin who could be persuaded to both help and keep quiet about it with prodigious amounts of ill-gotten money, and even with her assistance it had taken months with how fucked-up they both were. They’d had to kill the medic-nin, of course, because if she was so cheap as to be bribable then someone could easily come around with more cash and then they’d be screwed, and at least this way they got their money back. It was around then that they’d made it out to the middle of nowhere (aka the center of Tea Country), but then the aforementioned three days had passed and Kidoumaru knew that their plan A was a bust. So plan B it was.

Tayuya glared at him balefully from over the fire, sucking hard at where she’d burned her fingers trying to grab at the unprotected lower half of the tea-kettle handle. “Kumogakure? Really? You can’t think of anywhere better to defect to?”

Kidoumaru shrugged. “They’re not particularly friendly with Konohagakure so they won’t care about our part in the invasion three years ago, and since Otogakure never initiated hostilities with Kumogakure, they won’t resent us for that, either. Since Otogakure has been officially dissolved ever since Uchiha stabbed Orochimaru-sama while he was dying in his bed, we are neither traitors nor have divided loyalties, so us showing up won’t look too weird. Most importantly,” he continued when Tayuya failed to look convinced, “it’s my ancestral home, and I’m the last of my bloodline. That alone will have them jumping for us to join their shinobi corps.”

At that, Tayuya actually raised an eyebrow. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Orochimaru gloated about it when he first drafted me from that shithole he found me in. Anyway, I have a rare bloodline limit and you’re no slouch, so they shouldn’t mind when I say that my sticking around is contingent on your acceptance into the Kumo-shinobi ranks. We should be set.”

At that, Tayuya finally removed the burnt pads of her fingertips from her mouth. “Sounds… tolerable, I guess. Better than where we just left.” Irritation made her scowl. “Why the hell did we try and disappear anyway? We already knew we’re awful at being normal.”

--*--

At that, Kidoumaru glanced away, looking depressed and angry that he was depressed. It was an expression Tayuya knew pretty well; fuck, it was on her face more often than on his. “I don’t… know about you Tayuya, but after seeing Jiroubou, Sakon, Ukon, and hell, even Kimimaro bite it trying to protect an ungrateful little shit, it was hard to care much about guiding along the precious Uchiha to greatness. When Orochimaru-sama died, there pretty much went my last motivation for trying to do… anything. It all felt kind of pointless, you know? And everyone always talked about how easy civilians had it. I guess I wanted it easy for a while. I never thought it would be worse than the alternative.”

At that, Tayuya rolled her eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Kidoumaru, I could have told you from the beginning that being a civilian would be a mistake.”

Even though he didn’t look directly at her, Kidoumaru still managed to look annoyed through his eyelashes. “Then why’d you go along with it?”

Tayuya shrugged and reached again for the tea-kettle, this time grabbing the handle correctly and pouring herself a cup. Never let it be said that she didn’t learn, even if it sometimes seemed like everyone else in the universe repeated the same dumb shit over and over. “Well, here’s how I figured it: We’ve been through a lot of crap in our lives, been fucked-up near constantly, and none of it was because of our own decisions. It was because we were too young to do anything about it, or too scared, or too loyal, or whatever. Whatever we did was because other people wanted us to, and the two of us got through that alive by the skin of our teeth. Everyone else we gave a shit about didn’t even manage that much. So this time, I thought we’d mess up on our own terms, see how that felt.”

Kidoumaru snorted and slid his own teacup towards Tayuya. She might have just thrown the tea-kettle at him once upon a time, but quite frankly having mile-high walls between herself and Kidoumaru felt retarded these days. It maybe revealed some weakness that she poured him some tea without anything more than a mild glare, but hell, who was around to care?

“So?”

“So what?” Tayuya replied, sliding the teacup back towards Kidoumaru.

“How’d it feel when we fucked-up without someone else telling us to do it?”

Tayuya considered this. “I’d say… it felt like we’d finally gotten to own ourselves.”

Kidoumaru’s eyes widened. Tayuya didn’t blame him. They were both still pretty shitty as the being-honest-with-each-other thing. He covered it well, though, considering he didn’t really know how, sipping at his tea like there were delicate nuances to be tasted instead of just old leaves and grinning crookedly in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “We should try and get a refund. We kind of came out of the box broken.”

As she’d said: pretty shitty. But… they were getting better. “Kidoumaru?”

“Yeah?”

“That doesn’t mean we aren’t worth fixing.” If she silently mouthed you moron at him afterwards, she knew he wouldn’t take it personally. After all, they were getting better. That didn’t mean they were up to all that soppy shit yet.

Series: Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy: Advent Children
Character(s): Riku and Kadaj
Prompt: living your life in the hero’s shadow
Author’s Note: For chibirisuchan. A really late birthday present (which is why she gets ~~three~~ four; the other one will come later). This got a little rambly and off-topic, which is okay, but I also tried to write Kadaj as he might be if Jenova had never been in his head to reflect this being Kingdom Hearts-verse as opposed to Advent Children-verse, so he’s… erm… not normal, exactly, but less desperate and more seventeen.
Word Count: ~1,700

Riku was doing his absolute best (which was pretty damn good under most circumstances) to navigate his way through the wonderful new world of alcohol consumption, and for once the voice in his head was being more helpful than otherwise. Ask for a banana daiquiri.

Riku did, though he remained skeptical as to Ansem’s suggestion. Why?

You do not drink, and in most alcoholic beverages the taste can be off-putting if you are not accustomed to it. Daiquiris compensate for this with sugar and fruit, and you like bananas. There was a pause as if Ansem was trying to remember something. Then- You stupid child.

Yeah. There it was. Riku made a face out of habit, though after two years of having Ansem hang around his various consciousnesses (even if he had gotten rid of Ansem’s “influence,” he hadn’t gotten rid of Ansem proper, no matter what he’d implied otherwise), he was rather used to the Heartless’s insults. Not to say he wasn’t also tired of them, but often as not Ansem seemed tired of them too, so they didn’t fly as fast and as furious a tenth as often as they had before, so it wasn’t that bad.

He still never intended to tell Kairi about it. She’d worry. Or Sora, because Sora would-

Riku made another face and sipped cautiously at the daiquiri. It was actually pretty good, though he could still taste the underlying bitterness of the alcohol. Sora was… not good at dealing with stuff being complicated. Explaining to him how not necessary it was to remove Ansem would take forever if Sora ever understood at all. And how could he? Riku could hardly understand it himself, as mixed up as it was with his darkness and his power and… and Sora himself, he guessed. How even after their reconciliation last year, Riku still couldn’t completely erase his resentment at Sora’s uniqueness, at his easy ability to make friends. With Ansem, Riku was sure unique, and if the Heartless wasn’t a friend, well, at least he was never alone, which was nice. How could Riku possibly tell Sora that the continuation of their friendship at least partially hinged on the presence of Xehanort’s Heartless?

Riku took another sip of the daiquiri. He couldn’t, that was what. So he didn’t tell, and now Sora was off again, playing hero, and even if Riku had been invited, the fact that he’d needed to be asked along by Sora, like an afterthought, had rankled enough that Riku had smiled easily and waved his oldest friend off. “I’ll be fine here. Radiant Garden needs more help with the rebuilding than you do fighting off the latest threat in Agrabah.”

Sora had looked concerned. “You sure?”

“Yeah. You have fun. I’ll be here when you get back.”

So Sora had left. Kairi hadn’t gone with him either, but that’s because she honestly did want to help with the rebuilding efforts, which was probably why Sora hadn’t put up much of a fuss. He thought Riku and Kairi would be together, except Kairi thought Riku was with Sora. When Sora got back, that might be a problem, but for now Riku had whole days stretched out before him where no one would be looking for him, where he could be alone with the voice in his head and no one would be concerned.

So of course he’d gone to a bar, and sure, it wasn’t all that dramatic, but at least it meant he wasn’t tagging along after Sora.

Ansem made a mental humming noise as Riku carefully swallowed about a third of his glass. Mm…

Knew you only suggested it because you like them, bastard, Riku thought without any true rancor. At least here his tastes ran parallel to Ansem’s… or maybe it was Xehanort. How many opportunities would a Heartless have to drink, anyway?

Someone dropping heavily onto the stool to his left drew Riku out of his introspection. He glanced without any true interest at whoever had interrupted his calm, only to do a double-take at the sight of what appeared to be his clone. This theory was lent credence by the new arrival mirroring Riku’s astonishment, his eerily similar green eyes widening in an almost comical reflection of Riku’s own surprise.

Almost. The likeness was too disturbing for Riku to truly find any humor in it. Riku had been adopted back on Destiny Island without any knowledge of his true heritage, and the only person he’d ever heard of with his coloring was a fellow named Sephiroth that Sora had mentioned in passing. But even then Sora had only noted the skin tone and hair and eye color, not a resemblance that made Riku wonder for a mad moment if they’d been separated at birth.

The newcomer’s voice when he deigned to speak at least was a higher register than his own, making some of the hairs on the back of Riku’s neck lay back down. “Are you a brother?”

Riku blinked. A brother? “Do you have others?”

The newcomer made an expansive gesture, which had the unexpected side benefit of summoning the bartender. “A number. My mother was… prolific. I’ll have whatever he’s having,” that last was addressed to the bartender. Then the seeming clone turned back to Riku, his eyes bright and his smile radiant in a way that was a bit unsettling in their intensity. “Only a few worth talking about, of course, as the others died during the initial Heartless invasion. My eldest brother is a madman, my second eldest is a bastard and disowned us years ago, Yazoo is three blocks down stocking up on instant coffee for the house, and I think Loz got sidetracked at the gummy-shipyards talking about weapon upgrades with one of the mechanics. He does that.”

Riku blinked ago. Then he finished off the last of his daiquiri just in time for the bartender to come by with the new guy’s. “I’ll have what he’s having.” The bartender gave him a disgusted look, but begrudgingly started cutting up bananas. Riku ignored the bartender’s disgruntlement and swiveled his stool to face… er… “That’s… oddly specific. Mind telling me your name?”

“Kadaj.” Kadaj, so named, ran his tongue along the rim of his daiquiri. He smiled again, his odd fervor once more taking Riku off guard. “Tasty! And you?”

“Riku. Do you normally tell your family history to people you meet in bars?”

Kadaj shook his head and stuck his tongue a little further into his glass. “No, but then I’ve never been in a bar without Yazoo and Loz before and I’m pretty sure you’re family anyway, so that’s alright.”

Riku grinned despite himself. Having no family history to speak of, suddenly getting stuck with one—whether it was actually his or not—was strangely comforting. “I’ve never been to a bar before period, but I’ve been around Radiant Garden for a while now. Can’t say I’ve seen you around.”

Kadaj shrugged and downed the daiquiri, making a face that Riku knew meant he’d gotten a brain freeze. “Ouch… yeah, we’re from here, kind of. Had to get out when the Heartless came twelve years ago, though, and we just came back. I don’t remember much of this place, but Loz and Yazoo told me a lot about it, though they don’t remember much more than me.” He made a thoughtful face as he examined the bottom of his glass. “I’ll bring you home after the bar closes and introduce you. Since Sephiroth is off being a crazy vagrant and Cloud won’t admit to being related to us, Loz and Yazoo will be pleased that someone else was young enough to be sent away when Radiant Garden was attacked.”

Riku choked on his new banana daiquiri. Sephiroth, yeah, he’d heard of him, sort of, but… “You’re related to Cloud?!”

“Half-brother,” Kadaj said glumly. “He and Sephiroth had a falling out right before the Heartless invasion and now he won’t talk to us.” Kadaj sniffed, looking unhappy. “He’s a real jerk about it too. Doesn’t help that he hated mother, and now he’s considered one of the great heroes of Radiant Garden since apparently he helped take it back last year and the year before. And he still won’t admit to be related to us, since that would be admitting he’s related to Sephiroth and mother too. No one even believed us when we arrived and said we were the younger brothers of Cloud Strife, except apparently the guy running the gummy-shipyards recognized Loz from twelve years ago and backed us up. I hate him.” And with that, Kadaj gestured for another daiquiri. The bartender looked dubiously at his shrinking pile of bananas but got out the knife again regardless.

Riku, for his part, gave Kadaj a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. It actually explained a lot, like why Cloud refused to talk to him whenever he came visiting with Sora and Kairi to Aerith’s house. “Sounds pretty bad.”

Kadaj clasped Riku’s hand under his own, his grip almost unnervingly strong, though not as much as the brightness in his eyes. “Glad I’ve got a new brother. You seem much nicer than Cloud ever was, even before he disowned us. You’ll like Yazoo and Loz too… well, Loz, at least. Yazoo doesn’t talk much.”

Riku smiled back. He didn’t mention the unlikelihood of their relation—he’d been left on the orphanage’s doorstep when he was only a year old, more than four years before the Heartless invasion of Radiant Garden, and the likelihood of him ending up at the Destiny Islands was even more laughable. He didn’t want to mention it. Kadaj was, to say the least, weird, but having five brothers (even if one was seemingly crazy and another estranged), might give him the distance from Sora he needed to keep from resenting his friend, if he had other people to relate to.

Ansem, who had stayed silent during Riku’s exchange with Kadaj, chose then to cut in with You just want something that will make you stand out. Sora has no siblings to speak of, does he?

As Riku clinked his glass together with Kadaj’s to celebrate their newfound fraternity, he mentally shut the door in Ansem’s face. “I think I could grow to like instant coffee.”

Kadaj just snorted in return. “You shouldn’t. It’s terrible. Yazoo just buys it because he’s cheap.”

Series: Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy VII
Character(s): Axel and Reno
Prompt: meeting the partner
Author’s Note: For chibirisuchan. A really late birthday present (which is why she gets ~~three~~ four; the other one will come later).
Word Count: ~400

Reno stared up at the man who was supposed to be his new partner. “Kind of

short, aren’t you?”

The rookie’s hands twitched on his keyblades. “Kind of skinny, aren’t you?”

Axel glared. He was sensitive about his weight. He had not idea how the kid knew. Xigbar had probably told him, the fucker. “Well you can just

listen to me. I’ve been at this job a long time, and I know the ins and outs of Shinra like nobodies’ business. You just stick close and follow my lead, and you might make it past your first mission. I don’t care what backwards town they got you from, you won’t last five minutes in Midgar if you try and do your own thing.”

Rude’s mouth twitched at the corner, though he otherwise remained impassive. “I’ll keep that in mind, partner,

just stay out of my way.” And with that, the rookie stomped right on past Axel into a darkness rift. Axel watched him, his mouth hanging a little bit open. What a little shit. He’d been at this job for three years, and this kid bordered on Larxene for sure rudeness.

Normally Axel wouldn’t have taken it, orders from the Superior to keep the new guy in one piece or no, but even ignoring the keyblades, weird enough as they were, there was something oddly compelling

about his new accomplice, even if he was way too tall. Reno grinned and stuck out his hand. “I have a feeling this is the beginning

of a completely shitty week. Axel groaned. What in heart’s name had he done to deserve this? Whatever it was, it must have been

pretty damned good. He’d half expected Tseng to stick him with a corporate type, but Rude seemed alright. Even offered to buy him a drink after they got off work. Reno stuck his hands in his pockets and whistled his way back to his office in just the right key to unnerve the secretary who’d gotten his coffee wrong that morning. Yep, things were looking up. It helped that Rude was totally

hot, but not all that much. Axel ground his teeth together as he contemplated the short addition to the Organization. He could only hope that

things would get even better tomorrow. They probably even get to blow something up! And to think that just this morning Reno’d been dreading

meeting his new asshole of a partner.

Series: Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy VII
Character(s): Axel and Reno
Prompt: warning labels
Author’s Note: For chibirisuchan. A really late birthday present (which is why she gets ~~three~~ four; the other one will come later).
Word Count: ~1,100

“‘Flammable. Keep out of reach of children’,” Reno recited carefully, squinting in the poor light at the label on the side of the container. Then he grinned. “Good thing I can’t read.” The thirteen-year-old had managed to get a hold of a quart of lighter fluid by stealing some cash from a wino and telling the guy at the general store that he was buying it for a cookout at his foster family’s place. The fact that he’d ditched out on foster care a week before apparently hadn’t traveled down the grapevine yet, thank Bahamut for his former ‘family’s’ disinterest.

Either way, he had lighter fluid, and more importantly he had the location to the hangout of that jackass who had beaten him up yesterday and stolen his money. Hence needing the wino’s gil to make this plan work in the first place.

The hangout wasn’t much, just a locked door (easily picked), some cheap walls, a mostly functioning roof, and some shitty furniture, though Reno wouldn’t have minded it for himself if he hadn’t known it was already occupied. He hadn’t been so hurt yesterday that he couldn’t follow the jackass and his friends home, and so here he was, ready to light this place up like Christmas above plate.

It wasn’t until he’d sprinkled the last of the lighter fluid over the couch and was riffling through his pockets that he realized he didn’t have any matches. Which was bullshit, because he’d totally had some yesterday, which means either they’d fallen out during the beating or the asshole had stolen those too. Not that it mattered which, because he had like five minutes before the asshole got back from his usual job as a bouncer and that was not enough time to go back to the general store, and wasn’t this plan just shot to Hades?

Apparently not shot enough, because it was then that Reno heard a voice in the doorway say, “What in Ifrit’s name do you think you’re doing?”

Reno’s first instinct was to jump behind the couch for cover, but that would just put him further from the door. Instead, he turned, as casually as he could (which was pretty casual, Reno could say from prior experience), and smirked. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

It was a guy, though not one of the ones Reno had seen hanging with the asshole yesterday, thank Bahamut. Tall, taller than Reno was ever likely to get (damn it), with hair the color Reno wished he had and tattoos Reno wanted to say made the guy look like a clown but in reality just made Reno want to scowl in envy. The fact that the guy was dressed like someone who regularly went diving through garbage bins (even if he didn’t smell like it) didn’t detract from the fact that Reno hated him immediately and forever.

The guy didn’t seem to share the same sentiment (not that Reno expected him to); in fact he mostly ignored Reno in favor of squatting down and dipping one finger in the puddle of lighter fluid closest to the door. Then he sniffed. “Is this lighter fluid?”

Reno shrugged. “So what if it is?” He calculated his chances to get past the guy (shitty), so just continued standing there, his thumbs hooked in his jeans’ belt loops and ready to make a break for it while trying to make it seem like he wasn’t.

The guy’s reaction didn’t turn out to be exactly what Reno had been expecting. The widening, slightly deranged smile that showed far too much teeth was in fact enough to make Reno take a step back and glance around for something to use as a weapon. “Great! I knew I’d forgotten something.” And then the guy’s left hand started to blaze.

Reno had one panicked second to think materia before the guy pointed leisurely at the biggest puddle of lighter fluid in the room, the one near the back at the foot of a wooden folding chair, and said, “Fire.”

Fortunately for Reno, his body reacted faster than his head did, which was why he was already sliding under the guy who was shooting fire and was halfway out the door before the flame had even made it a third around the room.

The guy wasn’t far behind him, and though they were both short of breath by the time they stopped running three blocks later, for the guy it was mostly because he kept on gasping out laughter. “Oh Ifrit, that was beautiful.” He clasped his right hand on his left forearm tightly. “I love this thing, I really do.”

Reno didn’t keep on going after the guy stopped, even though he really should have. “That where you kept your materia?”

“Damn right.” And then there was that smile again, the one that made the guy look like he’d been bitten by something nasty and the effects were just starting to show. “Don’t even think about trying to steal it, though. I went through a lot of shit to get this thing, and I won’t let some punkass kid take it when I’m not looking.”

Reno couldn’t help but puff up a bit at that. Like some jerk like this guy had any right to call him a punkass, and he wasn’t that much younger, anyway. “It’s Reno, and I wouldn’t steal your shitty materia if you asked me to, guy. If I wanted a Fire materia, I’d go rip off the Materia Shop in Sector 7 and get a mastered Fire, not the lame basic you have.”

“Would you now?” The guy’s eyes slid halfway down as if he had just lost interest in the conversation. “Whatever. The shithead’s hideout is now ashes and I’m pretty sure that’s what we both wanted.”

Reno shrugged, doing a pretty good job (he thought) of emulating the guy’s nonchalance. “Yeah, I guess.” He turned to go.

“Hey, Reno.”

Reno turned. “Yeah?”

“It’s Axel, not ‘guy.’ Got it memorized? You’d better, ‘cause you’re going to hear it again some day.”

Reno snorted. “Sure, whatever you say, guy.”

Axel grinned yet again, still looking rabid. Despite himself, Reno was beginning to admire that grin, if only for the sheer balls one had to have to wear it below plate armed with nothing better than a basic Fire spell. “Damn right.”

If Reno was mirroring the grin—looking less fearsome but no less deranged—as he shifted his gaze to watch the smoke from the fire they’d set wind up coil around the plate, Axel didn’t say anything about it before walking away, soon turning down a nearby alley and disappearing into its shadows. Reno didn’t really notice him leaving, too captivated by the rising flames to recognize that he was now alone.

My Flist is Full of Fail

2008-07-12T09:44:08Z

I know it’s been forever since I’ve posted anything, but there are still 75+ of you who have me friended. Why, in 48 hours, could only three of you come up with prompts? Seriously. *sigh* Well, at least the three prompts I did get were diverse and interesting.

That being said, I am also full of fail for taking so long with these prompts, but I am actually quite pleased with them (though less so with the Naruto one—sorry, know_your_story).

Fandom: Bleach
Characters: Orihime, Aizen
Prompt: insanity, compassion
Prompter: satora_chan
Title: I’ll See You Again Tomorrow, Orihime-san
Word Count: 829

Every day for the past five days—that is, every day following the first one—Aizen had visited her for tea. Every day for an hour, Inoue waited for the mocking glint in his eye that she had come to think was an inherent part of the man, especially so under the circumstances. Who couldn’t see how funny it was for an aspiring warlord to sit down once a day with his prisoner and set out an English-style afternoon spread? (Though in truth Inoue wasn’t sure if it was afternoon or not; in Hueco Mundo, it was hard to tell.)

Well, Kurosaki-san, maybe, wouldn’t laugh. And Ishida-san. And… well, maybe most of her friends didn’t quite have her sense of humor, but she did like the crumpets. They were especially good with strawberries. And that yellow stuff, what was it called again?

Aizen’s eyebrow had quirked when he first saw Inoue spreading the yellow over her strawberries, but his voice was strangely gentle as he said, “Most people don’t mix fruit and mustard, Orihime-san.”

Inoue paused halfway through her first mouthful of strawberry. “Oh, is that what this is?” Only the strawberry garbled it, so she swallowed first and repeated herself, adding, “It’s really good. Vinegary. Good contrast.”

Then, because she was polite, she offered some to her host. Er, captor. He was feeding her, at least.

Aizen’s eyebrow raised even further, but to Inoue’s surprise (no one ever liked the flavor mixtures she did), he accept a mustard-dipped strawberry and took a bite. The face he made at the taste was ruthful, but the mocking element still wasn’t there. “It’s… interesting, Orihime-san, but I think I will stick with the tried-and-true combinations. I’m afraid to say I don’t quite have your adventurous streak.”

It was on the tip of Inoue’s tongue to say something like, “I don’t know, trying to become God sounds pretty adventurous to me,” but she knew that was Kurosaki-san’s influence on her, not something she actually wanted to say. So she didn’t, and passed Aizen the sugar when he asked.

She actually didn’t want to say much. There wasn’t really a lot that was safe to talk about. So she asked him about the food, and she occasionally made some comment about Soul Society before remembering herself, but Aizen never seemed to get angry regardless of what came out of her mouth.

It was because of this that when he rose to leave, on that sixth day during her captivity in Hueco Mundo, that Inoue finally got up the courage to ask, “Why do you come here so often, Aizen-san? You aren’t going to persuade me to join you like this,” even if you do have really good mustard, her mind supplied unhelpfully, though of course she didn’t say so out loud.

Aizen again smiled at her. Really smiled at her, no trace of amusement at all. It was then that the lack went past worrying Inoue. It was then that she began to feel fear. “I do not believe any of my current subordinates would enjoy sitting down with me for afternoon tea.” His expression turned distant. “I missed the custom, after leaving Soul Society. Hinamori-kun made the best-” It was then that he cut himself off, and his face smoothed itself into more polite, neutral lines. “But I have business to attend to, so I’m afraid I must excuse myself.”

At the door he paused, as he always did, and turned back to her. “I’ll see you again tomorrow, Orihime-san.”

She didn’t reply. She had enough trouble staying still as it was. It wasn’t until Aizen left that Inoue let herself press her hand to her mouth, trying to breathe. Trying to suppress the upsurge of disturbingly mixed feelings from overwhelming her.

She had not known Momo-san. But she had heard what Aizen had done to his lieutenant, and there had been no trace of grief, of regret, in his eyes as he spoke of her. One would never have known from looking at him that Aizen was anything more than a loving father figure to Momo-san who was beginning to miss her company, instead of her attempted killer.

There was only conclusion Inoue could draw in the end: There was something wrong with him. With Aizen. Something that went beyond the megalomania, the ambitions, the ruthlessness. Something was terribly, terribly off in the former Shinigami’s head, and for the first time in her life, Inoue wished her first instinct was to feel anger, instead of compassion.

There was horror, of course. She was human, how could there be otherwise? The man had tried to murder someone who loved him, and he obviously hadn’t thought twice about it since. But underneath all that, that proper feeling, was something else. Something Inoue knew she shouldn’t be feeling at all.

Inoue closed her eyes, and did her best to continue breathing. The last thing she had wanted was to come to pity her enemy.

Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Kisame, Itachi
Prompt: conversation, eclipse
Prompter: know_your_story
Title: The Bleeding Time
Word Count: 203
Author’s Note: Based on recent Naruto weirdness, I actually had another idea for Kisame/Itachi that would reflect the new information we’ve learned about them, but I quickly realized that would be much longer than a drabble and wouldn’t be focused on that pairing anyway, so I dropped the idea.

One day, the sky went dark, and the only light illuminating Itachi’s face made it look like he’d washed that morning in a basin of blood. It resembled how Kisame imagined the end of the world would be.

If so, however, he had already experienced the apocalypse once in his lifetime. “I haven’t been through a solar eclipse since I left my home village.”

Itachi blinked at him, his pupils slightly larger than usual to compensate for the strange sort of darkness. “I never have.” Then he went back to his lunch, reading the newspaper he’d bought from a vendor earlier in the day with a nonchalance that should have been feigned.

Kisame glanced around. Pretty much everyone had dropped what they were doing to stare at the sky. Somewhere, a kid was sobbing, asking his mother why the sun had gone out.

“I’d thought you’d be more interested, Itachi-san.”

Itachi took a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving the business section. If Kisame hadn’t been watching his partner so closely, he never would have noticed the way the Uchiha’s mouth pinched at the corners, or the pained crease between his eyes. “It isn’t anything I haven’t seen one-hundred times before.”

Fandom: Final Fantasy XII
Characters: Larsa, Gabranth
Prompt: birds, leaves
Prompter: midnightdiddle
Title: Landis Had Been Beautiful In Autumn
Word Count: 381

“Look, Judge Gabranth! Look!”

It was somewhat dutifully that Noah did as the four-year-old prince asked, and looked. What he saw was enough to make his eyebrows shoot up. “A ruby-throated hummingbird this late in the season? Well spotted, Lord Larsa. Almost all of them have migrated south by now.”

Larsa blinked up at his bodyguard, his eyes wide and—Noah almost didn’t dare think it—slightly impressed. “I did not know you were knowledgeable of birds, Judge Gabranth.”

“I am not,” Noah demurred, though he was unable to stop himself from feeling slightly pleased that he had remembered that bit of trivia. “My father was an enthusiast, and I was unable to escape his musings at the dinner table as a youth. It was inevitable that I absorbed some of what he knew.”

Larsa nodded in understanding, though his gaze shifted back to the hummingbird flitting among the dying flowers of the fading red columbines, his still-chubby face (though Noah knew he would grow out of it, as all Solidors did) rather more enraptured than Noah had seen it when faced with his textbooks earlier that morning. “Was Landis much like Archades in autumn?”

The question made something within Noah pang, as reminiscing about his father had not. He took his time with answering, letting his gaze linger rather longer than needed on the hummingbird before saying, awkwardly, “Nay, very little like. I find it likely that Landis has already had its first snowfall, at least at the higher elevations.” He tried to smile. “I daresay that the hummingbirds there did not extend their stay as this fellow did. Too cold by half, and no flowers left in bloom.” Noah stretched his memory a little further, then elaborated, “Most Landis animals either flee to warmer climes or go into hibernation around now. It’s practically the only time of year you can hear the wind uninterrupted.”

Larsa frowned, his lips pursed. He looked unhappy, his strange Solidor empathy written clearly on his face. “It sounds very lonely.”

“It was quiet, yes,” Noah agreed. It was only then that he felt his expression, his smile, turn genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners for what felt like the first time in months. “Quiet, but… I always thought Landis was beautiful in autumn.”

Eh, it's been a while.

2008-05-31T04:02:30Z

Time for drabble prompts, because I haven't written in ages and feel kind of rusty.

Any fandom I've ever written is fair game except for Heroes because I only followed the canon for about five minutes, and Avatar because I don't feel like it.

Here's the available list:
-Bleach (anyone except the Vaizard)
-Final Fantasy X (Auron)
-Final Fantasy VII (anyone, though I'm most comfortable with the clone triplets)
-Final Fantasy XII (anyone)
-Fullmetal Alchemist (anime or manga, specify which you want; anyone who isn't the core military is good, though you might have to refresh my memory about who everyone is)
-Kingdom Hearts (I and II; anyone, but you'll have the best luck with the Organization, Riku, and Heartless!Ansem)
-Naruto (anyone, but you know who I like)
-Rurouni Kenshin (Saitou, Shishio, Kenshin [preferably pre-light and joy], and anyone you feel like putting with these guys)
-Samurai Champloo (the core three)

The restrictions are thus: two characters (preferably from the same fandom, but with stuff like Kingdom Hearts on the list it's hard to make that a hard and fast rule), I get to choose whether to pair them up or not, and two words that will act as my prompt. I don't care if the words are related.

Lengths will be variable, probably anywhere from a sentence to 1,500 words or thereabouts; it will depend. You have 24 (48, because I want more requests than three) hours to make a request, after that I'll only take 'em if they ping me like woah. So if you want something written, now is the time to ask.

Surprise, surprise

2008-05-14T08:12:51Z

For the first time in ages, I have started looking at A Fox and a Shark Walk into a Bar again. I figured I had (finally!) put enough distance between myself and the last time I tried to revise it to have another go at rewriting the story. So far it's going pretty well. I'm about halfway through Chapter 9 (of 30), and since I'm free from any responsibility until next Monday, I think I might just push through and get it all rewritten by then. I still have my notes for Chapters 31, 32, and 33 as well, so who knows. You might even see a chapter or two by the end of the summer.

As I've been saying for ages, I haven't really given up on it. It was just that school and friends distracted me and I was really, really burnt out on the whole thing. Hopefully some people are still interested in that epic of mine. I know it's been a long time since there has been an update, and I still don't know if I'll ever finish it, but it isn't over yet.

Edit: Okay, nevermind. Turns out I start work on Thursday, so the edits should take longer than I thought. Expected them posted the end of next weekend, not the end of this one.

Old Springkink Stuff

2007-12-22T05:44:15Z

These are the springkink prompts I signed up to write way back. I actually was supposed to get two more done, but then I took so long that I lost interest. Variable quality.

Final Fantasy X, Auron/Kinoc: Severe Injury - "Facing mortality with a glare"
Word Count: 714

Naruto, Sasori/Orochimaru: Body Modification - "You should try saying 'no' once in a while"
Word Count: 489

Heroes, Mr. Bennet (HRG)/Matt: Glasses - "Just a schlub like the rest of us"
Word Count: 1,052

Kingdom Hearts 2, Xaldin/Xigbar/Xemnas: AU - "What we might have been"
Word Count: 1,383

Final Fantasy XII, Vayne/Larsa: Darkness - "Unquiet dreams"
Word Count: 339

Kingdom Hearts 2, Saix/Xaldin: Blood - "You've got some nerve to come back here/you're not the only one who can smell fear"
Word Count: 1,394

Naruto, Jiraiya/Orochimaru - Blindfolds - "One foot in your bedroom, and one foot out the door"
Word Count: 1,194

Naruto, Itachi/Kisame: Insanity - "One man's genius is another man's insanity"
Word Count: 1,283

gigabomb @ 2007-11-08T00:47:00

2007-11-08T06:55:37Z

It has occurred to me lately that I am a lazy bastard, one indicator being this entry: I've forgotten how to cut things and am too lazy to look up how. I haven't posted anything on this journal in months, which is silly, because I may have written next to nothing, but that next to nothing I still haven't linked to here. *cough cough* Anyway. For those of you who have despaired of me, or thought I've died (and I know you're out there), I promise I'll be linking you to ten or so short fics within the next week. Maybe a little more, but only a little bit more, because weekends really are there for a reason.

It's sad, isn't it, that I actually haven't given up on any of the fics on my to-do list, but am actually just too damn exhausted by the thought of *gasp* actually sitting down and writing to do anything about it? Really, kind of lame. *is emo for a while* But fic is in progress, sort of, not the least of which is one of my most nonsensical ideas to date (i.e. Kidoumaru/Sasuke cyberpunk AU), so yeah, I'm not dead. Just slightly comatose.

Doctor Who: Master/Doctor Massive Recs Post

2007-08-09T09:44:03Z

Been a while since I've posted, hasn't it? I have been writing, but haven't posted links because I'm lazy like that. I don't do summaries, because those are work. I do quotes, though. Um. All of this is consensual stuff, in one way or another (except for the R pic, and even then it's questionable; it could be a roleplaying session for all I know) because I'm not really fond of Master/Doctor non-con, or even dub-con, because the last two Time Lords are more fun when they're on vaguely equal footing. Well, some of sarkywoman's stuff is sort of dubious, but only a minority, and it's labeled pretty well.

Also, if you have any brilliant Master/Doctor fics stored in your favorites, it'd be great if you'd give me a link. I can't get enough of them, it seems.

The Stories

A Very Civil Partnership

Author: nostalgia_lj
Status: Unfinished, but works as a stand-alone
Length: ~1,100
Genre: Humor
Rating: Worksafe (I think)
Era: Post LotTL A/U
Quote: "Look," he hissed when they were outside the door, "no manipulating humans by alien means."

"You're the one who insisted on a mortgage. We're Time Lords, you fool, we should be living like kings. In palaces. With little gold crowns and servants and perhaps a harem. Each. I don't like sharing."

"We can't live in the TARDIS. It'd be weird."

"And this isn't?"

"Humans love mortgages! Some of them get more than one, that's how good they are!"

----

I Dare You to Wear White

Author: shaggydogstail
Status: Complete
Length: ~3,000
Genre: Humor
Rating: PG-13
Era: Post LotTL, but it's not an A/U in a very hand wavy sort of way
Quote: 'We're not friends!' said the Master.

'No,' the Doctor agreed, taking a step closer, 'we're so much more than that.'

'We're enemies,' said the Master. 'Or have you spent so long rattling around that little blue box of yours that you've forgotten it?'

'We can make a fresh start,' said the Doctor, 'put the past behind us. Maybe try counselling.'

The Master threw up his hands and gave a cry of frustration. 'Why must I always be thwarted by you and your interfering do-gooder ways? It's enough to drive me mad - you, and the constant sound of the drums.'

'That's not drums,' said the Doctor. 'That's my hearts beating only for you.'

----

Precious Little Space Dumplings of Love

Author: shaggydogstail
Status: Completed
Length: ~5,000
Genre: Humor
Rating: NC-17
Era: Post LotTL A/U
Quote: ‘Aren’t you going to ask me what it’s for?’ said the Doctor as he zapped a few more wires together.

‘Is it for blowing up planets?’

‘No.’

‘Can we blow up some planets?

‘No.’

‘Not even a little one? A little, small, unimportant one that no-one would even miss? A little, small, unimportant planet full of bad people so you don’t even have to feel guilty about it afterwards?’

‘No.’

‘Hmph.’ The Master frowned and kicked the floor. ‘All right, what’s it for, then?’

‘It’s for you,’ said the Doctor.

----

Metric

Author: th-esaurus
Status: Completed
Length: ~2,800
Genre: Angst
Rating: R
Era: Post LotTL A/U
Quote: The next day, he finds they've landed – had been touched down all night, in fact – and when he opens the doors of the TARDIS, there is fire and screaming and a world burning. The Master watches over his shoulder, a huge, crooked grin on his face. He wraps his arms around the Doctor's waist and buries his face in his neck, and murmurs, "Never sleep on duty, dearest."

The Doctor handcuffs him to the wall of the TARDIS, and tells him he'll stay there until he can be trusted again. He sets up a relay sound system, fixed to the outside of the ship, that blares the static noise of the time vortex into the control room. The Master writhes and swears and cries and begs him to stop the drumming, and all the while, the Doctor averts his eyes.

It doesn't take long to wreck him like that. Once the Master has fallen silent, the Doctor lets himself see him again. He's slumped against the wall, a dead sort of look in his eyes, only his fingers moving, weakly tapping out that now-familiar rhythm against the grating. His mouth is slightly open, and his head falling to one side, as though he hasn't the energy to keep it straight.

The Doctor turns off the noise and crouches down in front of his broken pet. He unchains him, cradles the Master's face between his hands and kisses him over and over and over. "Do you promise to be good now?" he whispers, his voice cracking.

"Promise," the Master says, sounding numb.

----

Mastery

Author: ariastar
Status: Completed
Length: ~3,100
Genre: Angst
Rating: R
Era: Post SoD canon-ish
Quote: "We're all each other have," the Doctor says, and this time in the edge of the Doctor's voice he can detect something terribly important: the Doctor believes this, fundamentally and absolutely. Even now, the Doctor is here first to save him and second to stop him, and that, that, is why the Doctor will not win.

"You're right," he says, looking away, swallowing, very serious. "You're right. I--" He shakes his head. "I'm so tired of the drumming."

Another hesitant step forward. "Let me help," the Doctor whispers.

He closes his eyes for a moment and brings up everything relevant to the situation at hand: the red light, the thrumming of the TARDIS and his own blood, the weight of his feet on the floor, the knowledge of the space around them and the subtle curves it makes between the Doctor's body and his own, the faint beautiful pain in his chest at the thought of having the Doctor here all to himself, and he smiles. So it is that when the Doctor brings his hands up, pressing fingertips against skin, the chain between the Doctor's wrists cool against his cheek, what he is thinking is all the Doctor can see in his mind. No plots and plans, no Toclafane, no worlds burning, no empires: just the two of them, and the drumbeat.

----

Doctor Who Season 4

Author: ariastar
Status: Completed
Length: ~50,600 words
Genre: General
Rating: R
Era: Post LotTL A/U
Quote: "You've had me locked up," the Master snarls. "Now it's my turn."

The Doctor merely looks at him impassively.

"I had Earth," the Master says. "For a year I had Earth."

"You did," the Doctor agrees.

"What do you call winning?" the Master demands. "When I've burned every world across all of time and we're standing on some dark abyss and there's no one left to save? Is that when I'll win?"

"No," the Doctor says.

The Master's pulses pick up a little.

"Me," he breathes. "If I vanished. If you couldn't sense me anywhere. If you were alone again."

A look of pain crosses the Doctor's face. "That's not winning," he says quietly. "That's running away."

The Master's free hand seizes the Doctor's collar. "So you're telling me you will never allow me to win."

Something peculiar flickers in the Doctor's eyes. "No," he whispers. "I'm not saying that."

----

New Dawn Fades

Author: omphalos
Status: Unfinished, but looks like it will be completed eventually (a chapter is posted every week or so)
Length: Long (already ~39,000 at four chapters and a prologue, and set to be nine chapters long)
Genre: General
Rating: NC-17
Note: A caveat here. I don't like the fic-trope used to explain how the Doctor keeps the Master initially contained (or rather, I don't think the author took it far enough to work; of course, that's just me), but luckily it's dropped by Chapter 2 and thereafter the fic greatly improves, so persevere if the fic premise doesn't immediately appeal to you.
Era: Post LotTL A/U
Quote: His grin drops when he sees the Doctor and the Master pulling apart hurriedly from an obvious embrace. The Doctor looks shifty, but the Master gives Jack a smirk so pleased with itself it could lead self-esteem workshops all on its own.

Jack makes a mental note that whatever else happens during this visit, he and the Doctor are going to be having a little talk without any other Time Lords present.

There are three armchairs and a two-seater sofa. Jack strategically takes the sofa, but his plan fails when the Master sits down in the rather grand high-backed armchair near the fire, and the Doctor parks himself on its arm, his leg touching the Master's.

Romana appears in the middle of the room, her legs bisected by the coffee table. She frowns down at it, and gathering up her skirts, rather fastidiously steps out. "Oh, I remember this room, Doctor. It's where we played temporal mah-jong while we were stuck in E-space together. Do you recall?"

----

The Pandora Project

Author: calapine
Status: Unfinished, but looks like it will be completed eventually (a chapter is posted every three days or so)
Length: Long (I don't know exactly how long; at my best guess it's going to be about the same length as Doctor Who Season 4 when finished, and right now there are five chapters of thirteen completed)
Genre: General
Rating: PG-13 (definitely the most gen of all the fics on this list)
Era: Post LotTL A/U
Quotes (this one has two [from the same chapter, even!], just to contrast; all three of the A/U epics listed here are sort of bipolar in genre, being both absolutely hilarious and totally depressing in turns... much like the Doctor Who series, actually): "I think it's astonishing that given the amount of time you spend under that thing, nothing actually ever works any better. Also your telly's just blown-up. Sorry."

The Doctor scrambled out from under the console, brandishing his sonic screwdriver and looking faintly scandalised. "Not the big one," he said. "Not my beautiful fifty-two inch flat screen telly. Which, by the way, I have suffered for with numerous comments regarding sexual insecurity."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," said the Master, examining his fingernails. "Boom. All gone. And some of your DVDs. I really hope you didn't want to watch A Muppet's Christmas Carol any time soon."

"What did you do?"

The Master looked affronted. "Me? I was only trying to improve it. How many years have you had that thing for anyway? Things were growing inside it."

"They were?" asked the Doctor curiously. "They weren't sentient, were they?"

"No idea. Hardly matters now anyway," said the Master. "Boom," he repeated, mimicking an explosion with his hands. "Anyway, I'm all singed so I'm going to have a bath now, and, no, you can't join me." He paused in the doorway. The Doctor was caught in a moment of indecision between finishing under the console and going to inspect the damage to the television. "I'd hurry, if I were you," the Master added, "there might also be a small fire."

****

The Master gave him a sharp look. "Ooh, a team project for building up mutual trust? I don't think so, Doctor."

In the morning, the Doctor found him in the rain room. His forehead was pressed against the glass that separated the little conservatory from the illusion beyond. The hills were as green as ever, the sky a turbulent grey and the rain...the rain poured, it always poured.

"Like a thousand tiny drums," murmured the Master. "Do you hear them? Is it beautiful? I think it might be, but I don't know."

The Doctor stayed very still, wanted to hold on to this moment that felt so close to honesty. "Let me in," he said as he took a step forward.

The Master spun around, but the mask was not quite back in place. "Sooner or later," he said, "one of us is going to kill the other out of nothing more than sheer boredom."

The Art (all drawn by Niki_UK/mia_v)

Okay, first one is G, second one is PG, third one is PG-13 (and the worst of the lot, in my opinion, but all the art's excellent so it's merely good instead of mind-blowing), fourth one is R, and fifth one is an Eighth Doctor/Tenth Doctor G pic I included just because it was pretty. Sorry for the quick rundown, I'm getting sick of looking at this post.

1) http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/61606376/
2) http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/59155066/
3) http://img507.imageshack.us/my.php?image=drunkenbusinessmen1pf8.jpg
4) http://community.livejournal.com/dw_slash/206600.html
5) http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/59237867/

Also An Author (sarkywoman)

The World of Sarky

Listed separately because there's a lot of it and it's different. All of it's pretty good, if inconveniently not tagged so you have to hunt for it a bit. Not quite on the same level on the other stuff, but close. Some of it has dubious consent, but not all or even most of it, and Jack is included a lot, just to warn those of you who don't like love triangles or whatever. Still, there's some stand-alones and a series and so on, and at this point almost all of it is on the first page, so worth looking over.

gigabomb @ 2007-06-20T17:21:00

2007-06-21T00:25:21Z

Ganked from harukami:

Ask me about my fic--something I wrote, character, plotline, even a really short commentary--and I'll give you an explanation, snippet, or something. Kind of like a dvd commentary, but shorter and faster.

gigabomb @ 2007-06-07T09:04:00

2007-06-07T16:11:25Z

Hidan was delusional. If his choice of religion was not clue enough, the fact that he continually labored under the hope that Kakuzu would allocate Akatsuki funds towards an enterprise that Reiko-sama had not officially sanctioned had long ago alerted everyone in the Dawn Organization that something was not entirely right in the newest Council member’s head. Kakuzu had been turning Hidan down ever since the Jashin practitioner had become a member of the Akatsuki eighteen months ago, had refused money to those who needed it for far more pressing reasons than Hidan did, and anyone with half a brain in the Akatsuki knew that their treasurer would continue to do so until the end of time.

Hidan did not fall into that category. Why the idiot thought that merely changing the wording of his request would result in a reversal of Kakuzu’s decision was utterly beyond Kakuzu.

Kakuzu finished off the last of his prawn and green pepper tempura—paid for by Hidan, as the Jashin practitioner had at least gotten smart enough to realize that the only way to get Kakuzu to listen to him was through bribery—while Hidan rattled on about what he called his ‘new idea’ and what Kakuzu had privately labeled ‘the same old shit in a different color of wrapping paper.’ Eventually Hidan wound down and looked at Kakuzu expectantly, toying with his prayer beads. Kakuzu placed his chopsticks on his plate and pulled up his mask—not that it was really necessary in Kaizen, where all the locals ignored everyone in the black and red coats out of habit no matter how odd they were, and he frequented the tempura stand enough that the regulars didn’t even flinch when he sat down to eat anymore, but best not to fall out of the habit—before standing up, nodding to the stand owner, and walking away. Hidan hurriedly dropped a few bills on the counter before moving to follow. “So, what do you think?”

Kakuzu stared blandly at Hidan. “My answer is still no.”

Hidan’s eyes widened, as they always did when Kakuzu refused him—the idiot still persisted in being surprised—before he, predictably, started gesturing. “How can you say that? It’s a great idea!”

“The Akatsuki do not have funds to spare to build and maintain a temple of Jashin, especially considering there are a total of three practitioners in the entire organization, and the other two are your converted flunkies who just like using religion as an excuse for torturing people and know less about the actual faith than I do.”

“It would not be a temple of Jashin,” Hidan said patiently. “Matsushita has explained to me the importance of accepting the diversity of different religions. It would be a non-denominational place of worship where everyone could go to express their beliefs, even if they are blasphemous and will end in them suffering eternal punishment in the afterlife. Everyone needs somewhere to go to forgive themselves for their sins.”

Ignoring the fact that most shinobi tended to look for forgiveness at the bottom of a liquor bottle or in someone else’s bed, not in church, Kakuzu didn’t think Hidan had quite gotten what Zetsu’s nephew had been trying to tell him. “It does not matter if this temple of yours-”

“Non-denominational place of worship.”

Kakuzu barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter if it is Jashin-specific or not. Less than five percent of our organization holds a belief in a higher being or beings, and those that do just go to the Shinto shrine at the foot of Satori Mountain or the Buddhist temple if they want to express their faith in a group setting. Creating a multi-use building of religion, or whatever you would like to call it, would simply not be worth the expense, especially considering currently only one of the four elite partnerships is on active mission status.” Not that it particularly mattered that the most senior and junior elite were off playing diplomat and Gin and Yasuo were on leave; they didn’t really make up that significant a percentage of the money generated for the Akatsuki’s treasury. But Hidan, fortunately, didn’t know that.

Hidan scowled at Kakuzu’s refutation, not being able to come up with a decent rebuttal. Mostly because he really did just want a temple for Jashin, and the bit about it being a non-denominational place of worship was utter bullshit. Which was something Kakuzu had known all along.

They had by that point made it to the eastern edge of Kaizen where the main road leading to Lightning Country widened out. Kakuzu had some vague thought of getting some green tea at the small shop that was around here somewhere so he would have an excuse to sit as he balanced out the Akatsuki’s expenditure accounts—which he had started keeping on his person at all times ever since he had left it in the conference room once and someone who was smart enough not to own up spilled some coffee on it—just to pass the time until the Council meeting in a few hours, but Hidan still hadn’t left yet. Was no longer talking to Kakuzu, true, but muttering to himself under his breath and sending Kakuzu dark looks every minute or so wasn’t much of an improvement on the situation.

Kakuzu was considering the most polite way to tell Hidan to go away—as annoying as the other man was, he was rarely deliberately malicious, and as a fellow Council member Hidan was not someone to antagonize unnecessarily—when he sensed two distinct chakra signatures that he had not anticipated to come across for at least another month. Coming up the eastern road, at that, instead of from the south as would be expected.

“Hm.”

Hidan stopped muttering long enough to blink bemusedly Kakuzu’s way. “What? What is it?” Then he turned to look where Kakuzu was facing, and squinted. After a moment, he grinned. “Heh.”

The two most junior members of the Akatsuki elite came into view about five minutes later. However, it took some time until they reached a close enough proximity that Kakuzu noticed several relevant details. Gaara, as far as he could tell, looked no different than usual, but Naruto appeared exhausted, the rings under his eyes rivaling those of his partner’s, his shoulders bent under the (hardly excessive, by the look of it) weight of his backpack. He was also covered in the sort of discrete grime that came about from a great deal of travel that consisted of sleeping outside, without a bath or shower in sight and the only clean water coming from recently thawed glaciers. He was also standing about five feet further away from Gaara than he usually did. And it was Naruto standing away from Gaara, not the other way around, the former Leaf-nin being the one to edge out of range when Gaara drifted in his direction.

Kakuzu frowned, troubled at the possible reasons—and implications—of a split between the two younger shinobi. Hidan, on the other hand, seemed to take note of nothing, and was instead waving energetically. “Hey. Hey!”

It wasn’t long before Naruto was waving back, albeit with slightly less enthusiasm than Kakuzu was used to seeing out of the blond shinobi. Gaara, on the other hand, predictably didn’t follow Naruto’s lead and return the gesture, though his gaze shifted momentarily away from his partner and towards the two Akatsuki Council members on the road ahead.

Naruto was grinning as he approached them, though the smile held a bemused edge to it. “Nice welcoming party! But how did Reiko-sama know we were coming?”

Hidan smirked. “She didn’t. We were just heading to the teashop. Didn’t expect to run into the two of you. Thought you were still in Konoha with your seniors.” Kakuzu briefly considered contending the ‘we,’ but in the end decided it would result in a pointless argument and just nodded in agreement. Hidan gave the two elite a once-over, and sent the pair a dramatic wince. “Man, you two look like shit. Some problems negotiating with the godless infidels?” Hidan considered pretty much everyone godless infidels, but he also possessed the groundless belief that members of the Akatsuki just by virtue of having accepted him into their ranks were slightly less likely to burn in the lowest pits of hell. No one in the Akatsuki took the Jashin religion seriously enough to make an issue out of it.

Naruto shrugged, not visibly bothered by the slight to his former kinsmen. “Not that I know of. But then, we left Konoha six weeks ago. Things might have changed.”

Kakuzu felt his eyes narrowed. “Six weeks. It takes at your level of speed two days to travel from Konoha to Kaizen.”

“We had a goodwill mission type thing we had to do to keep the Leaf happy.” Naruto’s face hardened suddenly, his eyes growing distant as Kakuzu had noticed they often did when the former Leaf-nin was remembering something unpleasant. “It’s great to see you guys, but we have to talk to Reiko-sama like, two weeks ago.”

Hidan clapped Naruto companionably on the back. “Don’t be in such a freaking hurry, demon spawn! Come have some tea with us. Maybe you can help me convince Kakuzu of my idea. The stingy bastard wouldn’t change his mind even after I bought him lunch.”

It was then that Gaara spoke for the first time. “We don’t need a temple of Jashin.”

Kakuzu badly disguised his snicker as a cough, causing Hidan to glare at him before turning to Gaara. “Not a temple of Jashin, a non-denominational place of worship for people to go to express their personal faith.”

Naruto blinked. “What the hell is a non-demo- denoma-” Then he shook his head violently and stalked past Hidan towards Kaizen. “Really, really don’t have for time for this right now.”

Gaara followed after him without a word. After exchanging glances, Kakuzu and Hidan did the same, though Kakuzu hurried a bit to get even with the former Leaf-nin. “What is it?”

Naruto didn’t look at him, and his voice was terse. “Our shit’s gone sideways.”

Kakuzu didn’t bother asking any more questions after that. In Kakuzu’s experience—which was unfortunately rather vast, as Naruto had appointed him his second-tier mentor in the event of Kisame’s absence after Kakuzu, seeing the disaster area that was Naruto’s filing system, spent five hours teaching Naruto how to manage his accounts and to stop buying things on credit, for the sake of a God I don’t believe in, you can afford to wait another month before purchasing a dishwasher—for Naruto, there were three very specific types of ‘our’: he and Gaara, the two of them plus the most senior Akatsuki elite partnership, and the Akatsuki as a whole. By Naruto’s tone, it was definitely the last. Meaning Reiko-sama really did need to hear it two weeks ago.

In most cases, she had heard it two weeks ago whether or not it seemed as if anyone had told her, but that was always a dangerous assumption to make. “She is most likely in the main conference room with Zetsu preparing for this evening’s Council meeting.”

Naruto nodded hurriedly and sped up his pace. He didn’t seem to notice the weight of his backpack anymore.

gigabomb @ 2007-05-30T17:05:00

2007-05-31T00:13:40Z

All of you who have heard about the LJ deleting controversy and think it's a load of shit, sign up with this community: http://community.livejournal.com/fandom_counts/profile

In fact, even if you don't think it's shit, sign up. If you're reading this journal, you're in fandom and this affects you. 'nuff said.

Disclaimer: Above command is not meant to be bossy and irritating in any way. What's happening is just pissing me off. Hell, I'm pretty damn vanilla as far as my writing goes and even I've written stuff that technically qualifies as incest and pedophilia (Kadaj/Loz/Yazoo & Naruto/Orochimaru, anyone?), even if I can't write graphic stuff to save my life. This deleting communities and journals because of their listed interests is shit.

gigabomb @ 2007-05-29T21:13:00

2007-05-30T04:26:37Z

I've finally gotten back to writing Chapter 30 of A Fox and a Shark Walk into a Bar after like five months of burn out. I'd forgotten how much I like my version of the characters. The Naruto manga has gone totally sideways, and somehow my Naruto-as-an-Akatsuki, despite being a year older, is less powerful than canon Naruto, which is just dumb. I thought I was writing him as a bit overpowered, but no, canon Naruto could kick his ass despite being much dumber overall. My Sasuke is way closer to how he was in Part 1 than canon Sasuke is acting right now, and I'm having fun dicking around with Sound dynamics what with Kimimaro and Orochimaru being still alive. When Juugo and Karin show up, things are going to get kind of weird.

I'm going to post Chapter 30 without my beta seeing it. Somehow my hits to that story have exploded in the past several months, and nine months really is a lot of time to torture people. I'll post an edited version of Chapter 30 when I finally get the rewrite up, which, being optimistic, will happen at the end of summer. It might be even accompanied by Chapter 31. Who knows.

Anyway, Chapter 30 actually has an alternate opening, because I wrote it one way before deciding it wouldn't work for the story. I'll probably post it here on my LJ with Chapter 30, just as a fun easter egg for those who read my journal. It has Hidan and Kakuzu bickering and might actually be more entertaining than the actual opening, but trust me, wouldn't work plotwise.

Anyway, for those who care, here's a paragraph from Chapter 30. Can you tell I love messing with Orochimaru's mystique?

Sasuke was beginning to think that Orochimaru would never live up to the initial impression Sasuke had received of the sannin all those years ago in the Forest of Death. While it was unrealistic to expect the leader of Sound to greet him with an unbelievable burst of chakra and killing intent every time Sasuke saw him after an extended hiatus, Sasuke did hope this wasn’t how Orochimaru met with people who weren’t his usual subordinates. The stacks of paperwork littering the snake sannin’s desk, the chuunin standing by with folders right outside the office, the harried look on Orochimaru’s face, all reminded Sasuke with an almost eerie sense of déjà vu of the last time he had entered the Godaime Hokage’s office for a mission briefing. Not exactly a sight to inspire fear and worship, especially considering the large black stain on the right sleeve of the Sound leader’s extremely formal (if somewhat drooping) kimono where it looked like it had trailed in the inkwell.

gigabomb @ 2007-05-16T19:13:00

2007-05-17T02:16:37Z

Meme stolen from absolutely everyone: Name a character and I'll tell you three (or more) facts about them from my own personal headcanon.

Edit: Yout best bet is probably Naruto, considering I write enough for that fandom that I actually have a bunch of piddling stuff to say about the characters. However, if you want someone from another fandom, that's cool too. Just don't expect as much.

gigabomb @ 2007-05-14T18:34:00

2007-05-15T01:39:33Z

These are the springkink prompts I signed up to write. Three new fandoms, some stuff that might actually push me to edge on smut... Should be fun. Wish me luck.

July 2
20. Final Fantasy X, Auron/Kinoc: Severe Injury - "Facing mortality with a glare."

July 4
52. Naruto, Sasori/Orochimaru: Body modification - "You should try saying 'no' once in a while."

July 6
32. Heroes, Mr. Bennet (HRG)/Matt: Glasses - just a schlub like the rest of us.

36. Kingdom Hearts 2, Xaldin/Xigbar/Xemnas: AU - "What we might have been."

July 8
22. Final Fantasy XII, Vayne/Larsa: Darkness - "unquiet dreams"

July 13
38. Kingdom Hearts 2, Saix/Xaldin: Blood - "you've got some nerve to come back here/you're not the only one who can smell fear"

46. Naruto - Jiraiya/Orochimaru - blindfolds - "One foot in your bedroom, and one foot out the door."

July 19
42. Naruto, Itachi/Kisame: Insanity - "One man's genius is another man's insanity"

July 21
19. Final Fantasy XII, Vayne/Zargabaath: Coercion - "be that as it may"

July 24
12. Final Fantasy VII, Turks: Minds thinking alike - "A pack doesn't leap because it's told - a pack leaps because every individual, all at once, decides to leap."

gigabomb @ 2007-04-21T00:22:00

2007-04-21T05:27:29Z

Title: Wardrobe Options
Pairing: Long Feng, Azula
Word Count: 587
Rating: PG-13
Genre: A/U, General
Warnings (including spoilers): Implied spoilers for the second season finale of Avatar: The Last Airbender, subtext
Synopsis: Drabble set in the same universe as A Compass That Doesn't Point North dealing with Long Feng's new wardrobe. Seriously.

Ever since his arrival in the Fire Nation, he had taken to wearing brown pretty much constantly. Back during his first years in the Dai Li, he had been the one appointed to watch over the most headstrong of the former Earth King's daughters when she had insisted on going out into the city proper and her father didn't have the heart to refuse her, and had changed into the more subdued color on one of his superior's orders in an effort to be circumspect. That had been the only time he had been privy to the other gender's expertise since he had left his mother's household when he was seven, and all he had gotten out of that was the princess's opinion that brown didn't suit him.

It might very well have been true; Long Feng himself had no experience when it came to such things. There was no point in cultivating an eye for fashion when uniforms dictated one's wardrobe. But even if he did refuse to let himself care about the opinions of Fire Nation nobility—whether it be about appropriate attire or otherwise—or let go of his heritage entirely, green attracted far too much in the way of negative attentions, and he received enough of that already, with his too-dark skin and strangely worn hair.

The Fire Nation Princess—who was exactly nothing like the princess of some fifteen, twenty years ago except in the tendency she had of always getting her way—refrained from her usual biting commentary until after the tailor had left, and even then all she said was that she would be sure to keep him in mind if she wanted someone murdered in close quarters. "The blood wouldn't show too much after it dried, anyway."

Long Feng frowned, though he kept his gaze directed at the fabric samples the tailor had left behind and his hands occupied with retying the sash around his waist in the way one of the servants had told him was appropriate for securing this style of tunic. "I doubt that will ever be necessary. Earth Bending lends itself best to fighting at a distance." They were alone, Azula having sent her retinue away some time prior with a faux tantrum that had caused even her handmaidens, supposedly accustomed to such displays of temper, to back away as quickly as they were able without fear of giving offense. It was the only reason Long Feng allowed himself the slip. Fire Nation citizenry, he had quickly learned, did not much like being reminded of the fact that their enemies possessed powers they did not.

Azula, leaning against the door frame as she had been for the past hour—making the tailor understandably nervous in the process, even if Long Feng didn't much feeling like being understanding of the plethora of needle marks now dotting his skin—let her eyelids lower. On anyone else, the expression would have been evocative of pity. "How optimistic of you to think anyone will take your preferences into consideration. Please try to make it less obvious you've just gotten off the boat," she smiled at his reflexive wince, "When it actually matters, will you?"

The robes, when they were finally finished, felt much the same quality as the finest clothing back in Ba Sing Se, but it was weeks before the scent of the dye—made from a plant, the tailor said, native only to the Fire Nation—no longer pervaded his nose every time he took a breath.

gigabomb @ 2007-04-11T22:48:00

2007-04-12T03:50:18Z

Meme stolen from horses-and-men: OKAY NOW YOU ASK ME FANDOM STUFF. ~~ALL QUESTIONS ALLOWED EXCEPT ONES ABOUT THE SEX, WHICH YOU SHOULD KNOW IS GOOD.~~

1. Comment in this post with a pairing, a character, or a threesome.
2. I shall write you back a paragraph explaining what I think about it (good, bad, indifferent) and why.
3. Let's argue about it--uh, actually, let's not. More like, let's be mutually retarded and hysterical about it. That's more my thing. You don't have to repost if you don't want to.

Like horses-and-men, your best bet is Naruto, but fortunately this is an opinion-based thing and I have stuff to say about all my fandoms, even if in other fandoms you might need to remind me who some of the more obscure characters are. Yeah.

gigabomb @ 2007-04-03T12:45:00

2007-04-03T19:07:50Z

Meme ganked from rayemars:

Edited 7/10/07

Note: Pairings with an 'r' next to the number mean I have a rec or two for them if someone is interested (and if I can find them). Pairings with an 's' next to the number means I have written the pairing in some form or another myself.

1) Octavian/Mark Antony (Rome)
Older Octavian is a dick, but I've grown fond of Mark Antony recently and therefore want to see him subjected to torture and humiliation, and Octavian pwns his ass.

2r) James Bond/Le Chiffre (James Bond: Casino Royale)
I loved Le Chiffre in the movie, mostly because it's nice to finally see a Bond villain doing evil stuff to save his skin rather than just to be evil.

3rs) Jiraiya/Orochimaru (Naruto)
This pairing has everything. History, love, hate, camaraderie, and lots and lots of fighting.

4) Himura Kenshin/Shishio Makoto (Rurouni Kenshin)
Canon implies that these two never met during the revolution, but quite frankly I don't believe that at all.

5rs) Kadaj/Loz (Final Fantasy: Advent Children)
The fact that there is a chance that Kadaj cares about Loz is the only thing that keeps this from being the most exploitative pairing on the list. Seriously.

6s) Azula/Long Feng (Avatar: The Last Airbender)
Long Feng loathes her, but is too sensible to do anything about it overtly. Azula's a sadist and currently has power over him. Do the math.

7r) Kurosaki Ichigo/Grimmjow Jaggerjack (Bleach)
Fighty pairing. Not exactly enemies, either, and for some reason I feel like Kubo Tite is setting them up as rivals, something Ichigo honestly hasn't had before, which greatly increases Grimmjow's chances of survival. This makes me happy.

8rs) Uchiha Itachi/Hoshigaki Kisame (Naruto)
Kisame cares about Itachi's well-being. Itachi doesn't seem to mind Kisame's presence. Itachi is also a psychopath. Fun all around.

9) Malik/Rishid (Yu-Gi-Oh!)
Devotion and semi-incest, all in one pretty, schizo package of evil. Pretty much the only thing I liked about Yu-Gi-Oh!

10r) Julius Caesar/Mark Antony (Rome)
Sort of like Octavian/Mark Antony, except this time around Antony doesn't mind.

11r) The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who)
Oh God. So very canonically slashy (at least in New Who). So much subtext. And there is some excellent fic out there about them.
Note: Used to be Greed/Envy, but screw that.

12) Pride/Wrath (Fullmetal Alchemist manga)
The one scene they have together is cute, and has hints of them actually giving a shit about each other. Even if the new revelation about Pride does take the pairing to previously unheard of squick levels.

13s) Kidoumaru/Tayuya (Naruto)
Bitchiness vs. laid-back snark...

14) Phibrizo/Gaav (Slayers)
Old-school, yes, but still has a place in my heart.

15s) Roxas/Xaldin (Kingdom Hearts 2)
Two Nobodies connecting through kicking ass.

16r) Jack O'Neill/Ba'al (Stargate SG-1)
Sworn enemies, but Ba'al has the added benefit of being rather ambiguous as a villain (and practical).

17rs) Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai (Naruto)
Rival slash, with Gai. I don't see how this can be improved upon.

18rs) Momochi Zabuza/Haku (Naruto)
This is canon. Don't deny it.

19s) Kakuzu/Hidan (Naruto)
Snarky bitchiness with undertones of actual affection. Also lots of strange, kinky sex.

tentative 20) Riku/Xehanort's Heartless (Kingdom Hearts 2)
I've yet to see this done well, but hopefully I will soon be remedying that. Power dynamics, with a dramatic shift between games. Riku will always have his darkness.

Sadly, there appear to be several themes:
-#1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 11, 12, 14, 16, and 20 are all enemy/hate pairings
-#5, 9, 12, 14 (again), and 18 have (semi) incestuous overtones
-#7 (again) and 15 are fighty pairings
-#8, 10, 13, 17, 18 (again), and 19 are partner/devotion/comrade pairings
-Only #3 doesn't really fit into the stereotypes as I liked them together better when they were young (even though it would be awesome to see someone who can write them together properly after they part ways), and even they might qualify as an enemy/fighty/comrade pairing under certain circumstances. Man are my tastes predictable.

Bonus: Favorite Threesomes

1rs) Kadaj/Yazoo/Loz (Final Fantasy: Advent Children)
Come as a set.

2s) Jiraiya/Orochimaru/Tsunade (Naruto)
Come as a set.

3) Gaara/Kankuro/Temari (Naruto)
Come as a set.

-#1 and 3 are incestuous. Again.
-#2 is either an enemy pairing or a comrade pairing, depending on what point in the timeline it happens. *sigh* I think my preferences are a little weird.
-None of these are actually cracky. They are all connected in canon. Hmm...

gigabomb @ 2007-04-02T01:25:00

2007-04-02T06:50:27Z

Second sidestory for rayemars' whorehouse AU (with consent from the author), 9 to 5 Grind, which you can find here. Detailing an incident which is never completely explained in 9 to 5 Grind's last section. A few yakuza terms are used in this fic, but their meaning is pretty much implied in the context, so there shouldn't be any problems. This was actually written several months ago, but I couldn't post until rayemars got to the part of 9 to 5 Grind that this piece addresses, so here it is.

Series Title: A Darker Shade of Grey, or 5 To Midnight And All Is Not Well
Story Title: Those Who Pay Witness
Rating: R (for swearing, violence, questionable implications)
Word Count: ~4,100
Genre: General
Warnings (including spoilers): The rating is there for a reason, but there are literally no spoilers, as this is a complete A/U.
Synopsis: Yakuza dealings with the cops rarely end well. Kidoumaru discovers this first-hand, and wishes he hadn't.

Kidoumaru almost hadn’t believed it when his informant told him just who most of the Bear Clan’s bribery money had been paid to recently, but he wasn’t so stupid as to disregard it out of hand. The Bear Clan, a gang of common criminals who weren’t yakuza and hadn’t ever shown the least sign of wanting to be, had been a thorn in the golden snake’s side for ages, but in the last few months things had gotten really bad. However, the Bear Clan hadn’t managed to move from annoyance to threat until two weeks ago when one of the golden snake’s top hit men found himself on the wrong end of a Bear Clan shotgun when no Bear Clan should have known the yakuza was there. It was only at that point Orochimaru-sama had finally put Kidoumaru in charge of investigating the Clan’s goings-on personally.

Kidoumaru knew his intelligence network was good, but even so until now nothing definitive had turned up. Just how any golden snake that beat the crap out of a Bear Clan going where they weren’t wanted had recently made a habit of turning up dead in a ditch somewhere, or just caught in deals that shouldn’t gone sour. Or just the gang having intel that there was no way in hell they should know. The worst part was, the Bear Clan never seemed to have any direct connections to what happened, but Kidoumaru knew as well as Orochimaru-sama did that while once was coincidence, it could only happen so many times before you’d have to have the same I.Q. as a stalk of celery to write it off.

Still, he wasn’t in the golden snake kumicho’s inner circle for his dashing good looks (that was what pretty much everyone else was for, if you ignored Jiroubou; most people did), and when his guys found something, it wasn’t anywhere near small change. Kidoumaru didn’t bother to restrain his grin as he pulled out his laptop and began hacking into the police headquarters database. His own kobun had been turning up dry for too long, and something this big was definitely a mark in the win category. After it was all over, there was even a small chance he’d pick up the tab for the victory celebration. Wasn’t like they didn’t deserve it.

And this really was rich. He’d thought there was an off chance of the Bear Clan’s cash was going to a crooked cop, but never in a thousand years would it have occurred to him that they’d gotten to an Uchiha. This was going to be sweet.

--*--

It turned out not to be so much sweet as tedious, or at least that was how it was beginning to seem as Kidoumaru crossed and uncrossed his arms for what was probably the twentieth time, wishing yet again that he’d worn something with pockets he could stick his hands into instead of a semi-formal kimono with sandals. He didn’t bother with the traditional clothing in the golden snake’s territory, but without it elsewhere he got sick really fast of random people walking up to him and asking in excruciatingly slow (and loud) Japanese if he was lost and needed help finding the nearest international hotel. The kimono helped stave off some people’s assumptions about his nativity, i.e. thinking right off the bat that he was some stupid foreign tourist (even if it had resulted in one or two uncomfortable assumptions of a different sort; you’d think people would get that prostitutes not only usually didn’t do the corner thing during the day, but that his kimono was about ten times more expensive than any person of that profession except the highest-ranked geisha could afford, and God knew one of them wouldn’t be street-walking.

Not that the issue had come up recently, what with the new restrictions and all, but that was a whole other kettle of fish entirely. Kidoumaru could only be thankful that he wasn’t expected to deal with the political shit).

Kidoumaru had still gotten one or two odd stares, but that could very well be because he’d been standing on the same street corner for the past twenty minutes and not from the fact that he had inherited very little in the way of looks from his Japanese mother and a great deal in the appearance department from his African father. Either way, the curious (and occasionally hostile; damn the Japanese were all such fucking xenophobes) sideways glances were beginning to grate, and though he’d intended to get here before the cop did, he hadn’t thought to take into account that this particular police officer would be so damn slow in his rounds.

This wasn’t his usual way of doing things. He had minions for a reason. But things with the Bear Clan were bad, and even in the yakuza there was bureaucracy that took forever to wade through. Might as well start at the top, or at least as close as anyone got (a.k.a. himself), and get this all over with.

Kidoumaru watched idly as the police motorcycle came down the street towards him, mentally compared the face behind the visor with the face in the police database’s profile, and came up with a match. The motorcycle rolled to a stop at the red light, so Kidoumaru took a step off the curb and tapped the cop on the shoulder. “Hey.”

The cop started, predictably, and turned to glare at him through the visor. Not very friendly for a police officer, Kidoumaru couldn’t help but think. If he’d actually been out for the guy’s help it might have been off-putting. “What?”

“Uchiha Tekka, right? I need to talk with you.”

The cop’s eyes narrowed at the sound of his name, though he made an attempt to cover his unease. “So talk.”

Kidoumaru resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What kind of idiot was this guy to want to have a conversation in the middle of the fucking street? “Not here. Meet me in front of the Isamu Deli, down the street. Trust me when I say you don’t want this to happen with too many other people around.” The light moved to green, so Kidoumaru turned around, stepped back onto the sidewalk and started making his way towards the deli. Still walking along, he pulled his cell phone out of where he had stashed it under his obi at the small of his back and dialed the number of the lower-ranked yakuza (one of Tayuya’s, but then, it wasn’t like he had anyone who was good for anything like this) he had borrowed to act as lookout for this job.

Tayuya’s kobun picked up after one ring. “Yes? You have him, Kidoumaru-san?”

“Maybe. Time to go on standby.”

“You sure you don’t want me on a roof?”

Kidoumaru smirked. “Positive. If he sees you, he’ll freak. Stay in the deli, but come running if you hear gunshots or me yelling.”

“Understood.” Arashi didn’t sound happy, but he didn’t have to be.

Kidoumaru hung up and continued walking. If the cop was smart, he’d show up. If he wasn’t, it wouldn’t be as convenient, but Kidoumaru could work with it either way.

--*--

The Uchiha actually arrived before Kidoumaru (perhaps not all that surprising, seeing as Kidoumaru had been on foot), his motorcycle parked in the deli lot and his helmet under one arm. He looked angry, but by the way his face was set Kidoumaru was pretty sure that was just his default expression. “So?”

Kidoumaru smiled, slowly. “So what?”

“So tell me what the hell you want so I can get back to my patrol.”

Kidoumaru sighed and started examining his fingernails. He’d gotten out of the habit of biting them sometime during college, and then had fallen right back into it after graduate school halfway through the first tax season he'd had to deal with. It was probably kind of disgusting, but he was too busy these days to care. “Well, I still don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about your… let us say, dealings, with the Bear Clan in public, but if you are in that much of a hurry…”

From the way Tekka’s eyes widened, he wasn’t in as much in a hurry as all that. “How did you…”

Kidoumaru gestured towards the alley next to the deli. He’d chosen this part of the Uchiha’s route deliberately for this deli, as not only was the place not very popular, but also the few customers it had didn’t show up past two p.m. or so. It also provided a convenient place for Arashi to hang out. The two of them were unlikely to be disturbed now, with evening just beginning to dawn.

The alley was empty, as expected, and Kidoumaru didn’t venture very far in before stopping and turning to look at the Uchiha.

The cop didn’t waste any time before getting to the point, which was also expected. Even if this particular member of the family didn’t possess the nearly godlike purity of intent most of the Uchiha supposedly had, at least he was as blunt as the rest of them. There was a reason that no Uchiha had ever successfully made it in politics despite the family’s popularity in the city. “Who are you?”

Kidoumaru shrugged and put his hands behind his head, letting his kimono sleeve slide down to reveal the snake tattoo curled around his forearm, stopping just at the elbow. The gold ink that colored in the scales and eyes had faded slightly over time, but was still easily visible against his dark skin. “Oh, no one important. Just a concerned citizen. For instance, I find it very concerning when one of my city’s finest, an Uchiha, no less,” he emphasized the surname with relish and got the satisfaction of seeing the man flinch; Kidoumaru didn’t loath the police as some of his comrades did, but that didn’t make baiting this one any less entertaining, “Takes bribes from a group of thugs like the Bear Clan. Makes it hard to sleep at night, you know?”

The Uchiha’s gaze hadn’t lingered on the tattoo, but it was obvious he knew what it meant. “You think anyone cares about a half-breed yakuza’s opinion of the police?”

Kidoumaru wasn’t sure whether to be amused or insulted at the slur. In the end, he decided on amused. At least the man had recognized that Kidoumaru had some Japanese blood, something most people never even considered. “Well, no. But I’m sure they’d start to care when a bunch of documents—sent anonymously and detailing a bunch of illegal transactions between you and a gang of murderous criminals—end up on the doorstep of one or two of the more honest city council members and every single newspaper in the city.”

Tekka paled. Kidoumaru saw this and grinned. “I’m sure they’d care a hell of a lot. Probably even care enough to not only take a closer look at the police in general but get your ass in particular thrown off the force and straight into prison. What do you think the jail time is for something like this? Five years? Ten? More? Doesn’t really matter, though. The inmates would probably be delighted to be rooming with a former cop. You’re not all that pretty, but if you’re lucky, you’ll be someone’s fuck-toy before the month is out. If you’re not…” Kidoumaru started examining his ragged nails again. He really should kick the habit. It was so unprofessional. “Well, you can always hope they knock you unconscious before they finish you off with a knife between your ribs. I hear bleeding out isn’t a pleasant way to die.”

Kidoumaru had to at least give the Uchiha credit for his composure. Didn’t look liable to faint or start gagging or throw himself at Kidoumaru’s feet or anything, just a little shaky. “What do you want from me?”

Kidoumaru grinned. Now they were getting somewhere. “Not much. Just the same information you’re giving the Bear Clan, plus telling your buddies to stop beating on golden snake yakuza whenever they get the chance. Also, if you ever get any information about the golden snake’s dealings, you’re to not tell the Clan.” He leaned forward then, and put an extra edge into his grin. “If I ever hear about the Clan getting the drop on one of our people at some deal they had no business knowing about ever again, you can kiss your career goodbye. Clear?”

Tekka nodded, still slightly pale.

And that was that. Not so hard, really, Kidoumaru couldn’t help but think as he turned away. They wouldn’t have any more trouble from-

He didn’t even see the attack coming. Didn’t even feel the blow until he had hit the cement, and the blood started trickling down his cheek to form a small puddle on the ground. Didn’t see what the bastard had hit him with either until the Uchiha nudged him onto his back with the toe of his shoe, and he caught sight of the metal pipe in the cop’s hand. Dazedly Kidoumaru wondered when Tekka had time to grab it. If it had been lying on the ground and Kidoumaru just hadn’t noticed if, or if the Uchiha had picked it up before making his way to the rendezvous.

It was only distantly that he noticed the man was talking. “Thought you were pretty clever, didn’t you, golden snake? Not nearly as smart as you think.” He punctuated the last word with a stomp right below Kidoumaru’s rib cage, driving the air out of Kidoumaru’s lungs all at once, then followed it with a blow to his ribs. Kidoumaru heard something crack. “You yakuza, you think you’re the only ones capable of killing in cold blood, so sure you have the market on ruthlessness. Sorry to tell you this,” and it was then that Tekka grinned, his smile holding a manic edge that Kidoumaru had to work to maintain on a good day, “But I didn’t get to where I am by being nice.”

Kidoumaru was too busy trying to breathe to come up with a decent retort, much less get out a scream loud enough for someone in the deli to hear. Fuck. Maybe he should have listened to Tayuya’s goon after all.

The kick Tekka landed on the side of Kidoumaru’s head coincided exactly where the pipe had hit, and for several long seconds everything went dark. When light again entered Kidoumaru’s vision, he wished it hadn’t. He couldn’t… he… he’d never carried a weapon before, thought having one on him was just asking for trouble, and though Kidoumaru knew it would hardly do him any good now, he sort of wanted one, nonetheless. He felt like the Uchiha had kicked his brains out onto the cement, felt like his skull had split open. Felt like he was dying. Fuck, who knew, he probably was.

Tekka was talking again, sounding more and more smug as it became obvious Kidoumaru wasn’t capable of putting up anything resembling a fight. “I guess I should be worrying about some of your minions coming after me, but it’s pretty clear that you’re the top dog on this job. I think I have less to worry about if I kill you now than if I let you live.” He put his shoe on Kidoumaru’s throat as he spoke, the leather stained now with blood at the tip, making Kidoumaru gag and raise one hand ineffectually to try and pull the cop off, and it was then that Tekka pulled out his gun and pointed it at Kidoumaru’s head. “See you, yak-”

Then he stopped. Lowered his gun, though his foot remained on Kidoumaru’s neck. He was looking at something, and though Kidoumaru’s vision was darkening again, he tried to crane his head anyway to see.

There. Standing in the mouth of the alleyway, short dark hair, eyes wide. Male, just a little younger than Kidoumaru. Kidoumaru squinted as his field of vision narrowed. Who…

The short-haired stranger apparently got over his paralysis at that moment, turned around, and ran. Tekka cursed and holstered his gun. “Damn it. Damn it.”

If he could have thought straight, or moved, or been able to breathe, Kidoumaru might have smirked then, but as he couldn’t do any of the above, he just lay there and felt the blood trickle from the wound on his head out onto the ground. Tekka wasn’t even paying attention to him now, really, actually started down the alley after the short-haired guy before apparently remembering he’d been in the process of beating the crap out of somebody. Kidoumaru couldn’t really see anything but colored blurs by then, and the last thought he got in before the Uchiha got in his last (life-ending, probably) kick to Kidoumaru’s temple was something embarrassingly along the lines of oh fuck. Then he didn’t think of anything for a while.

--*--

The first thing Kidoumaru heard was voices, one he recognized right off the bat (though what Orochimaru-sama was doing at his funeral was beyond him; the golden snake kumicho had more important things to deal with) and the second he thought he might have known, once. The first thing he felt was the continual, skull-breaking pounding of his head. The first thing he realized was that dead people didn’t feel pain, so he had to be alive. Huh. What were the chances of that happening?

The world tilted rather sickeningly when Kidoumaru tried to open his eyes, but he gamely persisted in his efforts and was eventually rewarded by a fuzzy yellow blob surrounded by blinding white. Which might have been an angel if he was dead, but he wasn’t, so was probably something else.

His attempt at saying, “Where am I?” Came out rather more resembling a dry wheeze than anything like words. Still, it got Orochimaru-sama (who was probably the black/green blob to the yellow blob’s left) and the other person’s attention.

“He’s awake.” That was Orochimaru-sama. Kidoumaru didn’t know whether to be worried or not that his kumicho sounded surprised.

“Of course he is,” said the fuzzy yellow blob who Kidoumaru maybe knew. “I didn’t work to stabilize him for six hours to have him remain a vegetable.”

“Of course not.” Now Orochimaru-sama sounded amused. “I knew you would be trustworthy in this instance. I’ll leave him in your hands then.”

“Smart of you,” said the yellow blob, who was slowly coalescing in Kidoumaru’s vision to a blonde-haired, brown-eyed woman who Kidoumaru was pretty damn sure he recognized from… somewhere. “He’s in no condition for you to question him.”

Orochimaru-sama left, then, leaving Kidoumaru and the woman alone. The woman was looking at him. Kidoumaru returned her gaze, his head still throbbing, and narrowed his eyes in a futile effort to get his vision to return more quickly. Where did he… wait a second.

After a moment, the woman sighed, and pulled up a chair to sit beside him. “How are you feeling, Kidoumaru-kun?”

Kidoumaru knew her. Or had known her, pretty well at that. Hell, she’d even picked him up from school once or twice during the worst of the yakuza infighting when he was thirteen, and he’d certainly done enough homework sitting in her practice’s waiting room when he was even younger than that. Only thing was, she was supposed to have died over ten years ago. “Tsunade-san?” His voice still came out in a rasp, but at least it was recognizable this time.

Tsunade nodded and grinned, the expression coming out a little more self-satisfied than Kidoumaru thought the situation warranted. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“But…” This didn’t make any sense. Tsunade-san… there had been a body. A body burnt beyond recognition, true, but still a body. “Who the hell was the corpse?”

Tsunade raised a mocking eyebrow in the exact way she always had in what seemed a lifetime ago when she wanted to make someone feel stupid. It hadn’t lost any of its potency over time. “I’m a doctor, Kidoumaru-kun. Remember that? One of the benefits is that I always have some cadavers on hand.”

“Then why did you- how did Orochimaru-sama- why the fuck are you back now?”

Tsunade shrugged. “Orochimaru got a hold of my address about a year ago after that idiot Jiraiya gave it to him in exchange for a favor. I told your boss I wouldn’t help him with any yakuza matters, but you were a good kid, so when he called me up and told me how hurt you were, I decided to make an exception this once.”

“Well… it’s good to see you. Been eleven years now.” Even as he said it, Kidoumaru couldn’t quite believe it. Had he really not seen the surgeon since he was fifteen? Damn. That was an age ago.

Tsunade sighed, and suddenly Kidoumaru believed it. She definitely hadn’t had those wrinkles around her eyes the last time Kidoumaru had seen her. “I know it has. I just couldn’t remain in contact with any of you brats and hope to stay in hiding. The only way I could get out of the game clean was to cut all my ties.” Then she grimaced. “Not that it worked. According to Jiraiya, it didn’t take Orochimaru more than a few months to figure out I was still alive.”

It wasn’t really an apology. Tsunade-san didn’t apologize. Even as an explanation it kind of sucked, but judging by the conversation she and Orochimaru-sama had had, she was the only thing that had kept him from really dying, instead of just imagining he had. She had always been the best surgeon in the underground, and it looked like she had kept up the practice. Kidoumaru spared a brief moment to be irritated at the golden snake kumicho—he might have mentioned Tsunade’s continued existence to his inner circle, at least—before turning back to Tsunade. “I guess I should be thanking you.”

Tsunade smiled. This time, it almost looked genuine. “Don’t bother, kid. And please don’t tell me what happened to get you into this shape. I’ve been going on the last decade thinking Orochimaru was at least smart enough to put you to work somewhere out of the line of fire—you never could shoot a gun worth shit—and being proven wrong is kind of a bitch.”

Kidoumaru shook his head, and immediately wished he hadn’t. “It’s nothing like that, Tsunade-san. This time was sort of a weird exception. Most of the time I’m stuck in an office all day, playing accountant.”

Tsunade leaned forward onto her elbows. “He put you through college, then?”

Kidoumaru smiled, slightly. “Yeah. Business major. Didn’t do too horrible. Got my MBA afterwards. Been working for Orochimaru-sama ever since.” Kidoumaru watched Tsunade’s mouth thin at the mention of Orochimaru and hastily changed the subject. “So, what have you been doing since your supposed demise?”

Tsunade’s eyes shifted uncomfortably to the far wall, but at least the lines around her mouth smoothed out. “Well…”

It was then that the details of what had landed him in Tsunade-sama’s care started rushing back all at once, and Kidoumaru blanched, interrupting the doctor before she even really got started. “Oh shit… sorry, Tsunade-san, but if Orochimaru-sama is still around, could you ask him to come in here, please?”

Even before he finished talking, Tsunade was shaking her head. “Don’t bother, Kidoumaru-kun. Orochimaru didn’t tell me much, but I do know that the only witness to what happened is already dead.”

Kidoumaru blinked. “But… how long was I out?”

Tsunade gestured negligibly to the saline drip hanging above his head that Kidoumaru had somehow failed to notice until that point. “Three days.”

Kidoumaru felt the shot of adrenaline that was running through him hit an unexpected roadblock. “So that’s it.”

Tsunade shrugged, and pushed herself to her feet. “That you will have to ask Orochimaru when he returns.” She moved to go, but stopped in the doorway. There she turned around, and apparently on impulse she pulled out a pad of paper and scribbled something on it, ripping the piece free and placing it on the table by Kidoumaru’s bedside. “That’s my private line. If you need a doctor and Orochimaru can’t help you for whatever reason, call me immediately. Alright, Kidoumaru-kun?”

Kidoumaru grinned. “If I ever get shot doing something Orochimaru-sama wouldn’t approve of, you’ll be the first I ring up.”

Tsunade smiled back. And then she left.

Kidoumaru let his smile drop as soon as the door closed. The witness being dead was bad, and cop-killing was just asking for trouble, but as soon as he was up and about again, well… Uchiha Tekka was going to really, really regret he hadn’t finished what he started. Kidoumaru was going to make sure of that.

END

gigabomb @ 2007-03-22T23:40:00

2007-03-23T04:40:43Z

Title: Intolerable
Characters: Kisame, Itachi
Genre: Angst
Word Count: 336
Author's Note: Winning entry for the naruto100 challenge First and Last.

The first time Itachi felt the least desire for Kisame, it was during the aftermath of the bloodiest mission they had yet accomplished together. His Sharingan still activated, Itachi had glanced around the impromptu battlefield, the corpses of their target and her Rain-nin bodyguards strewn haphazardly on the ground where they had fallen, staining the area around themselves a rapidly darkening red. Reassured that there were no other opponents lying in wait in the tall grass, Itachi had moved his gaze to his partner. And stared.

Crouched by the body of his last kill, Kisame's own eyes were focused intently on the large kunai grasped in his left hand, running a cleaning cloth methodically over the blade where blood was flaking on the metal. The former Mist-nin was ignoring the red dripping in his own eyes from the sole wound the Rain-nin had managed to land on him and the gore staining his coat, his expression twisting in a critical frown as he held the kunai up to the fading afternoon light.

The heat that ran all the way from Itachi's face to pool in his stomach was unfamiliar. When Kisame noticed he was being watched and turned to look at him, Itachi didn't change his expression, but something was beginning to pound between his temples.

Kisame tilted his head to the side in concern. "Everything alright, Itachi-san?"

Itachi nodded, and turned away.

The last time Itachi desired his partner, he pressed his tongue further into Kisame's mouth and the kunai a little deeper into the former Mist-nin's stomach. Kisame coughed/choked, his eyes dark with pain and confusion and what Itachi knew to be betrayal only because he had seen it in his brother's eyes, all those years ago, and the taste of blood in Itachi's mouth was suddenly pervasive, dripping down the back of his throat. But Itachi didn't break away. He had despised his clan for its weakness. Intolerable, to think that for so long he had allowed such weakness to foster within himself.

gigabomb @ 2007-03-18T01:58:00

2007-03-18T07:07:29Z

Title: Remnants
Character: Sasuke
Word Count: 711
Rating: R
Warnings: Spoilers up to chapter 346 of the manga, heavily implied sex.
Author's Note: Written due to a combination of my irritation at Chapter 346, rayemars’ urging (sort of; it took her like four words to push me over the edge), and a drabble by metamorphe from which I heavily drew influence. Dealing with the possibility that Sasuke did not override his old teacher’s consciousness quite as thoroughly as he believed at the time.

The dreams had started only a few days after the death of Itachi. Hands running over his skin, a low voice murmuring in his ear. The same dreams he had been having for almost three years, but not really the same dreams at all. The hands were too rough or too smooth, the voice the wrong timbre, roughened or slick like oil, and even in the poor lighting Sasuke could tell the hair was several shades paler than it should have been. Sometimes the moon glinted off the face, sometimes there were two faces, sometimes he actually raised his eyes above the curve of shoulders and saw nothing at all. But Sasuke learned to accept this. He had finally avenged his clan, achieved his ultimate objective. He was not a child anymore, with a child's fantasies of the impossible. Better to dream of the abstract. Better for his subconscious to have finally accepted what a whirl of chakra had long ago etched into his mind.

Sakura and Naruto had few questions for him after he sought them out while they were on a mission and told them he wanted to come back. He told them of the snake sannin's end, of Itachi's, and their curiosity was drowned in the face of their relief. They did not delve further into the strangeness of the former after hearing of the crushing violence of the latter. No one took note that his eyes remained cold no matter how his face contorted at the interrogations the Godaime forced him to undergo. They think they can control me.

Naruto laughed as Sasuke walked out of Tsunade's office, a free man at last. Sakura smiled, her eyes glistening even as she turned away and tried to wipe them dry. Sasuke told himself that the flash of disgust was only to be expected, after becoming accustomed to the mien of the self-contained.

He and Naruto had their first argument within the week. Naruto growled and snarled and balled his hands into fists, and the first word that crossed Sasuke's mind was less fool and more beast. He snarled back, of course. It was only to be expected. They couldn't suspect-

The yelling match continued for nearly an hour, and though the air of righteous anger surrounding Naruto as he stomped away in a huff was nearly palpable, it was a poor mask.

The disgust was stronger this time, and lasted longer. What am I doing here?

Sakura started courting him after a month. She thought she was being subtle, he could tell. She wasn't, and that irritated him, but he couldn't help but latch on to the normality of it, the sheer expected-ness of her actions. He didn't encourage her, but neither did he brush her off as he once might have. Her desires might have not changed, but he had. He was not a child anymore, and still had one more goal to achieve. Such emotion is so easy to manipulate.

Naruto grumbled for a few days, yelled something about treating Sakura properly, took Sasuke aside and threatened to punch him or something equally juvenile. Sasuke stared at Naruto down the length of his nose, sneered, and resisted the urge to run his tongue along the back of Naruto's neck to see if the sweat Naruto had generated in his impotent fury tasted as sweet as Sasuke had always imagined.

He kissed Sakura at the end of their third date after walking her home. Sooner would have been improper. He fucked Naruto the same night, at Naruto's apartment, licking at Naruto's nape over and over and yes, it tasted just the slightest bit like sugar, mixed in with salt. The taste was familiar. Though not as bitter. It's not quite as I remember. Not quite-

Afterwards, Naruto had turned over, his muscles loose but his eyes sharp, pleading, "Don't hurt Sakura-chan."

"I won't," Sasuke promised.

"We can't do this again."

"Of course not," Sasuke agreed, ignoring the way the words, like everything he had said since he had returned--they held me back, kept me from--burned like venom in his mouth.

Who are you, to dictate to me what I can and cannot do?

It was not a question Sasuke was sure he could answer anymore.

END

gigabomb @ 2007-02-15T23:09:00

2007-02-16T05:18:01Z

+Title: The Grieving Process of the Criminal Mind
+Pairings (all implied): Itachi/Kisame, Deidara/Tobi, Sasori/Deidara, Kakuzu/Hidan (the story is basically the gen version of an Akatsuki orgy)
+Character Focus: Kisame
+Word Count: ~2,900
+Rating: PG-13
+Warnings: Character death (implied and explicit), swearing, spoilers up to chapter 342 of the manga.
+Summary: In which there are late-night encounters under fluorescent lights, things left unsaid, and beverages.
+Author's Note: Written for Inspector Parker on yaoi_challenge.

For all his inborn intuition, Uchiha Itachi had no talent whatsoever at predicting the future.

--*--

The meeting concerning the capture schedule of the Yonbi and Orochi finally over, Kisame stood and winced as he felt his spine crack. It had been thoughtful of Deidara to suggest buying chairs, but unfortunately Kakuzu’s control over the budget inevitably made such purchases uncomfortable ones.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Itachi also rise to his feet, though the gesture looked infinitely more graceful on the Uchiha’s slender frame. The man didn’t show any sign of wishing to stay in the cave any longer than necessary, making for the tunnel that led to the entrance in long strides as soon as he was out of his chair. Kisame moved to follow, though his pace slowed as he heard Deidara call out his name.

“Hey, Kisame! You want to go out for drinks now that everyone’s finally shut up?”

“We’re going to the place that has the glasses with umbrellas in them!” Tobi chirped, then staggered as Deidara slapped him upside the head, apparently out of habit.

Kisame grinned at the casual familiarity of the gesture. He had been worried about the two of them for a while. “Umbrellas, you say, Tobi-san?”

Tobi nodded vigorously, even as he rubbed the back of his head where Deidara had hit him. “And real fruit, too! They have the best strawberry-”

“Kisame.”

Itachi’s voice, quiet as it was, cut Tobi off as effectively as the loudest of Deidara’s admonitions ever had. Kisame turned to see his partner waiting at the mouth of the tunnel, his dark eyes unblinking. Then Itachi left.

Kisame smiled apologetically at the two younger Akatsuki. “Sorry, Deidara-san, Tobi-san. I have to be going.”

Deidara waved a hand negligently. “Don’t worry about it, yeah. Tobi can buy you a daiquiri some other time.”

Kisame grinned, before turning to follow Itachi out of the cave, leaving the other partnership behind. He couldn’t bring himself to feel too bad about it. The way they were acting around each other these days, they would probably enjoy themselves more without him.

--*--

Sometimes when Itachi slept, he stopped breathing. Kisame spent the night after his nightmares changed counting the number of times this happened.

--*--

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Kisame.”

Kisame looked up from examining his wavering reflection in his sake cup to meet Deidara’s eyes. They were quite a bit closer than they had been a minute ago, but then, the bomber’s perception of what constituted personal space tended to shrink in direct proportion to the amount of alcohol he consumed. “Yes, Deidara-san?”

“What’s Itachi like? Really, I mean.” Deidara grinned. “He can’t be such a tight ass all the time, yeah?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kisame watched Tobi attempt to stagger his way to the bar’s karaoke machine, only to have his progress impeded by Kakuzu grabbing him by the back of his coat and forcing him into the opposing booth. Next to Kakuzu, Hidan fingered his pendant and mumbled what were probably prayers asking his god to forgive him for coming to a place of such great sin. At least, that was what the Jashin worshipper usually complained about every time he ended up going bar crawling with everyone else.

Well, not quite everyone. Zetsu was absent, as expected. Itachi as well. Also expected. Kisame swirled his sake around in small, asymmetric circles for several moments before taking a sip. He put the cup back down on the rough wooden table with a little more force than he intended. “Why do you ask?”

Deidara shrugged and downed his own glass of sake. He wiped his mouth clean with the back of his good hand. “Just curious, and figured you’d know. You’re his partner, after all.”

“Itachi-san…” Kisame ran his tongue along his teeth, but despite his care he felt the flesh snare and blood be drawn, filling his mouth with the taste of iron. He liked the camaraderie such get-togethers bred, but he had never held much fondness for alcohol. Alcohol made Deidara friendly, Tobi loud, Hidan morose, and Kakuzu focused to the point that Kisame had once caught the former Waterfall-nin carving the tab for the night’s drinking into the table with a kunai for the twentieth time in an hour. Personally, it made him sloppy, more likely to misstep, make mistakes. He would regret this in the morning. “There is nothing really to say. Itachi-san is as he always is.”

Deidara’s eyes drooped in disappointment. “That’s it, yeah? No juicy gossip to share? There’s gotta be something. Everyone has something. Did I ever tell you about the time when I poured glue all over-”

“Nothing, Deidara-san. Please stop asking.”

The bomber sighed theatrically. “You aren’t much fun sometimes, Kisame, you know that, yeah?” He pushed himself to his feet, and with his hand holding the back of the booth, walked slowly over to the other Akatsuki-inhabited booth and collapsed next to his partner, leaving Kisame alone. Kisame looked down at his sake, only to realize with some surprise that the cup had cracked in his hand, what was left of the pale liquid merging into an irregular oval on the tabletop. He had not even felt the ceramic shards bite into his palm.

--*--

“Deidara-sempai, do you want any coffee?”

“No. And you don’t get any either. You’re annoying enough without the caffeine, yeah?”

--*--

“It is a little early to be making tea.”

Kisame shrugged and placed the steaming teapot to the side to let the water cool below the boiling point. “I couldn’t sleep.” He did not ask what Sasori himself was doing awake; ever since they had consolidated in River Country when the gathering of the bijuu began in earnest, the puppeteer had become a regular fixture of the base’s hallways at night.

Sasori nodded slowly and seated himself at the low table. “Ah. Is there enough for two?”

Kisame’s movements slowed as he placed the green tea leaves to stew in the pot. “I wasn’t aware you drank green tea.” He had not been aware Sasori could ingest anything at all, but it was not necessary to say so out loud.

Sasori smiled, aware of unspoken question but unbothered by it. “I do not.” Kisame waited for an explanation. After a short pause, Sasori provided him with one. “Deidara contracted stomach flu while we were visiting Fire Country. I came here thinking to make some soup, but tea would probably sit better right now.”

“It is a stimulant,” Kisame felt obliged to remind him.

Sasori just shrugged. “He won’t be sleeping tonight either way.”

They waited in amiable silence as the tea leaves turned the water a pale green. Kisame did not mind Sasori; out of all the members of the Akatsuki, the puppeteer was the only other person who understood that a period of quiet did not necessarily have to be charged with implications.

The tea was soon ready, and Sasori received the teacup with a small bow and thanks. He left without another word, for which Kisame was thankful. Sasori was also a welcome companion in that among his other virtues, he also understood that there were some questions that did not need to be asked, and some thoughts that did not need to be voiced.

--*--

Kakuzu survived less than half an hour longer than Hidan. Both immortals died alone, not knowing what happened to the other.

--*--

Itachi had sporadic insomnia. When he slept, it was like the dead. When he couldn’t, it was quickly realized and he rose from his bed, dressed in silence, and spent the night sitting cross-legged outside the door to their shared living quarters.

It was not meditation, neither the kind Hidan practiced nor the seeking of inner peace Kisame remembered being taught so long ago he could not recall his instructor’s face. Itachi just sat, his eyes open, staring blankly at whatever was in front of him until dawn.

Of the two of them, it was Kisame who had the nightmares. He had dreamt of drowning since he was a child, and they had not ceased even after he had mastered the technique that enabled him to breathe water. If there were other nightmares, he never remembered them.

Six months passed before Kisame first found himself opening the door to their quarters and seating himself next to Itachi. It was another year before Kisame asked, “Do you want anything?”

Itachi did not turn his head, though his eyes flickered towards Kisame, once. “Some green tea would be nice.”

--*--

Thirty-seven. The incidents when his heart stopped beating, Kisame counted for two on a whim.

--*--

“I can’t believe I got stuck with Zetsu’s idiot sidekick for a partner. It’s downright insulting.” Deidara slammed a hand down on the kitchen table, causing Kisame’s cup of coffee to jump about an inch before thankfully settling without more than a few drops spilling. “It’s not like it’s my fault Sasori-danna died, yeah? And this new guy’s gonna bite it, and then I’ll just get stuck with someone even worse. Vicious fucking cycle.”

Kisame took a sip out of his cup. “Well, there’s a simple solution to that I think, Deidara-san.”

Deidara loudly slurped his own coffee (decaf; Sasori had forbidden Deidara from ever drinking anything with caffeine two days after their partnership began and some habits were difficult to break). “Yeah? What would that be?”

“Don’t leave your own partner alone long enough to die.”

Deidara rolled his eyes. “No shit, yeah. If Sasori-danna got himself killed when I’m not around to watch his back, Tobi’d probably get his head stuck in a hole and suffocate within ten minutes if I wasn’t around to yank him out. The man’s a moron, yeah. Nothing like Sasori-danna at all.”

Kisame didn’t say what he was thinking; the lack of resemblance between the two shinobi was probably the best for all concerned. No one ever benefited from spending their life remembering ghosts.

--*--

“You’re too careless, Hidan.”

“Huh? Well, shit, Kakuzu, thought that was why you liked me so much.”

“You disintegrated our target’s body. How the hell am I supposed to collect the bounty now?”

“It’s just some fucking money, Kakuzu.”

“Just some-”

--*--

Kisame spent the evening after Sasori’s death listen to Deidara babble through the sedatives Kakuzu had put the bomber on Sasori-danna you idiot you fucking moron who the fuck gets killed by their grandmother I can’t believe you would just leave after attaching the arm that was left back to the corresponding shoulder. He spent the night reaching for something in the dark, only to find it wasn’t there.

Itachi accompanied him to the kitchen for once, and stared at him evenly over the rim of his teacup. “Drowning?”

Kisame shook his head. Just then, he wished he drank green tea, if only to keep his hands occupied with something other than tearing up the cheap paint on the tabletop with his fingernails.

Itachi didn’t ask for further details, and if he cared that Kisame was more often found sitting outside in the hallway than he was for the remainder of the week, he didn’t mention it.

--*--

No one besides Deidara ever looked directly at Tobi’s face the rare times he took off his mask, holding it in his hands as if it was likely to snap in two if his attention wavered for even a moment.

Deidara stared, and did so with no perceivable embarrassment. Hidan muttered to Kakuzu about entitlement issues and most of the time it was all the bounty hunter could do to muffle his laugh into the sleeve of his coat. Deidara would glare at them with a scowl over one shoulder, but as far as Kisame could tell, the commentary never did anything to stop the bomber from staring at his partner, as often and for as long as he liked.

--*--

Kisame blinked bemusedly over his lemon-flavored water. “‘Luxury expenses’?”

Kakuzu nodded. “Considering how close we are becoming to achieving our goal, I thought it expedient to compile and categorize where all our money is going.”

“Kakuzu-san, I doubt what we’re doing will ever be tax-deductible.”

“It will be once legitimate governments start utilizing our services.”

Kisame mulled over this for a few seconds. “Well… he does buy raspberry-scented conditioner sometimes.”

Kakuzu scribbled something in the small notebook Kisame had noticed him carrying more and more often lately. “Brand name?”

“Depends on where we are when he runs out.”

--*--

“Deidara-sempai… maybe you should get some sleep. You look kind of tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

Deidara glared. Tobi didn’t back down.

Deidara was the first to look away.

As he pulled the teapot off the stove, Kisame resisted the urge to sigh. He wished such arguments would take place somewhere other than the communal kitchen for once.

--*--

Kisame did not even try to sleep after Zetsu reported what had happened to Hidan and Kakuzu. Neither did he go out to the hallway where Itachi had retreated after the impromptu meeting had dispersed. He stayed in their quarters, sitting fully clothed on his bed, running his thumb unthinkingly along his sword’s hilt until the skin was rubbed raw from contact with the roughened grip, staring unblinkingly at the floor.

Two hours had passed in such a way when the bedroom door creaked open, and Kisame looked up to see Itachi standing there; unlike Kisame, the Uchiha was dressed appropriately for the hour, stripped of all the trappings of his profession and his feet bare on the stone floor. In his left hand were balanced two white mugs, still steaming. The Uchiha met Kisame’s eyes calmly for the moment it took for the usual acknowledgement of presence to occur before padding over to Kisame and holding out the mugs for inspection. “Choose one.”

Kisame looked down at the contents of the mugs. The liquid was light brown in color, and each mug had a large marshmallow floating in it. Kisame looked at Itachi again and raised an eyebrow.

On the Uchiha’s end, no uncomfortable shrug was forthcoming. “It’s hot chocolate.”

Kisame leaned his sword against the wall before gingerly taking one of the mugs—experience had taught him that just because his partner was capable of holding something didn’t mean it wouldn’t give him second degree burns—and dubiously inspected it. “Are we all out of tea leaves, then?”

His burden now lightened, Itachi seated himself on his own bed opposite Kisame’s and took a sip out of his mug. He was frowning as he said abruptly, “I used to drink this all the time.”

Kisame followed his partner’s example and sipped his drink. The hot chocolate tasted… well, like chocolate. It wasn’t his flavor of choice, but at least it was warm. The marshmallow didn’t seem to serve much purpose, though it was interesting to watch how it was beginning to melt from the heat. “Really?”

Itachi nodded, still frowning into his mug. “Before I joined the ANBU. It has milk in it, so it’s sleep-inducing. My mother made it from scratch, but all our kitchen had was the instant kind. This isn’t quite as good.”

“It’s not bad,” Kisame ventured.

Itachi nodded, his expression shifting back to its usual bland lines. “I suppose not.”

Kisame’s marshmallow by that point had melted completely to film the top of the hot chocolate milky white. He drank deeper of the mug the second time, emptying it nearly to the halfway point. It really wasn’t bad at all, and though Kisame had deliberately not sought Itachi out after Zetsu’s report, he didn’t mind his partner’s presence.

It had been rather stupid of him, really, to want to be alone after what had happened. His grip on the mug tightened fractionally as an image of Hidan’s habitually spastic grin flashed before his eyes. Good things never happened to Akatsuki left alone.

“Kisame. We’ll be fine.”

Itachi had always been terrible at giving context, but Kisame had known the Uchiha far too long for it to be necessary to ask for some. “No offense, Itachi-san, but you have no way of knowing that.”

Itachi sipped his hot chocolate. “There is a legend in my family about our ancestor, Uchiha Madara. He was the first to develop our bloodline separate of the Hyuuga, and it is said that he had the ability to see what would happen before it actually did. He foresaw the creation of the Uchiha Clan, and knew it was him who would be its founder.”

Kisame grinned, amused despite himself at his usually practical partner’s storytelling. “Seeing the future is impossible, Itachi-san. The only reason your clan founder’s vision came true is because he made it so.”

Itachi nodded. “True. Uchiha Madara was very powerful and a great leader, but it is very doubtful he could, say, foresee an enemy attack months before it occurred. But his own destiny… that he could predict very well.” He drained his mug and set it on his bedside table before lying back on the bed and closing his eyes. “Goodnight, Kisame.”

--*--

“What do you think happens after you die, Deidara-sempai?”

“…”

“Deidara-sempai?”

“Go to sleep, Tobi.”

END

Drabble Meme

2007-01-15T05:16:10Z

Totally stealing this from rayemars. I've gotten into a bit of a rut lately, trying to focus on super-long pieces that drive me to distraction, and I thought this might help get me out of it. Anyway...

Give me a character from any of my fandoms (active or defunct) and I'll tell you five things that never happened to them.

For relative newcomers to my journal, you can find my list of fandoms on my profile page.

Edit: Because I am insufferably slow and also tend to write a drabble per point, I'll probably only get one of these done a night (though sometimes perhaps more). So, if you don't get yours for a week or so, don't worry, it will get done.

gigabomb @ 2006-12-28T08:37:00

2006-12-28T08:37:20Z

Title: Dinner Plans
Pairing: Saitou x Sanosuke
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance/Humor
Warnings (including spoilers): Spoilers for the Shishio Arc.
Author's Note: Written for gryvon for yaoi_challenge. Beta-ed by gelfling8604.
Synopsis: In which Sano wants dinner and Saitou isn't about to pay for it.

The way Sano saw things was this: Saitou owed him dinner.

Saitou, of course, wasn’t buying, either the explanation or the dinner, no matter how Sano tried to explain it to him. This may very well have been because he had shown up at the Kamiya Dojo looking for Kenshin, who wasn’t there, and therefore the cop was in an even worse mood than usual. Or maybe not; it wasn’t like Saitou was very good-natured on a good day, either. “Let me see if I have this straight: I should buy you dinner because you thought I was dead.”

Sano was doing his best to be patient, but it was a forever losing battle. He hadn’t been born with much patience to begin with, and what little he had was quickly used up just watching the way the cop lit his cigarette and brought it to his lips. The guy smoked like one of those goddamned Western trains, so how the hell he managed to keep his teeth and gloves white was completely beyond Sano. It was like Saitou had been issued a license that said he was too cool to deal with things like stained gloves. It was a license Sano didn’t have and wasn’t likely to get anytime soon, so he felt justified in his resentment of Saitou owning one. Felt justified in his resentment of the cop’s (somewhat lackluster) attempt to act like he didn’t get it, too. Guy disappeared for months after the whole Shishio thing and then showed up like nothing had ever happened and he thought- “You owe me dinner because you made me think you were dead, jackass.”

Saitou ignored the insult, just quirked one eyebrow and blew out a stream of smoke. More stuff for Sano to resent him for. While Sano could grant that the lack of coughing on the cop’s part was probably from long experience with smoking, the raising the eyebrow thing was just unfair. “I didn’t make you think anything, idiot. You just made an assumption. As usual. And I still don’t see how this leads to me buying you dinner.”

Sano had a perfectly good line of reasoning that led to Saitou buying him dinner. The only problem was it was a little embarrassing. “Uh…”

The cop stared at him for a moment, waiting, before exhaling some smoke out his nose with a derisive snort and tapping some of the ash on the end of his cigarette onto the ground. “Excellent argument you have there, fool. And if that’s all you want to bother me about, I have better things to do than listen to you whine.” Saitou turned away and started walking down the pathway to the dojo’s entrance, pausing only briefly to throw over one shoulder, “Be sure to send Himura my way when he gets back.”

“Like hell I’m going to be your messenger boy,” Sano shot back heatedly. “You can come get him yourse-” It would have been a decent retort, if Saitou hadn’t blatantly ignored him and kept on walking, making his way around the corner before Sano even managed to build up some momentum. “Hey! Hey, you asshole, you can’t just walk away when I’m talking to- hey!”

--*--

How Saitou had managed to score such a big office was completely beyond Sano. Shit, the former Shinsengumi may have been secret police, and for all Sano knew that came with a big paycheck (though he sort of doubted it; everyone knew government jobs paid for shit unless you were corrupt slime, and for all of Saitou’s numerous faults, Sano could grudgingly admit being corrupt slime wasn’t one of them), but still, the office was fucking huge. “Nice place.”

Seated behind his desk with his customary lit cigarette in hand, Saitou stared at him blankly as the smoke rose to curl around the ceiling. “Please tell me who thought it was a good idea to let a thug like you into Tokyo’s main police station without supervision so I can fire him.”

Sano snorted and put his hands behind his head. “Chou.”

At that, Saitou sighed and ground his cigarette into the nearby ashtray. “Figures. What do you want?”

“You don’t need to be rude. You’re the one who wanted me tell you when Kenshin got back.”

Saitou put his elbows on his desk, steepled his fingers and smirked, his teeth gleaming in the harsh lights. One day, Sano vowed, he would figure out how in hell Saitou managed to keep them so fucking white. “I recall telling you to send Himura to me after he returned from his trip, not to come tell me when he returned. I also recall you saying no, but then, one can’t expect trash like you to hold true to your word, I suppose.”

Sano gritted his teeth and ignored the insult with an effort. It was also something of an effort not to start at the realization that Saitou actually had been paying attention to him during the end of their encounter three days ago, but from long experience Sano knew trying to draw Saitou out on something like that was a lost cause from the start. “I did tell Kenshin you wanted to see him. He told me to come tell you to meet him at Kaoru’s dojo.”

Saitou raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you were telling the truth then when you told me that you weren’t my messenger boy. You whore out your services indiscriminately.”

Alright, one insult Sano was willing to let slide, but two was really fucking pushing it. Sano clenched his hands- ignoring the twinge in his right- and took a step towards the cop’s desk, but Saitou had apparently dismissed the conversation, the older man getting to his feet and moving around the desk to bypass Sano entirely. “If Himura wants to meet me on his own territory, I have no problem with that.”

Sano didn’t turn to face Saitou, though he did say, “Grave offerings are really fucking expensive.”

Though his back was to the cop, Sano could still tell the moment Saitou turned to look at him over one shoulder with his customary frown. “What?”

Sano shook his head. Who the hell was he fooling? Wasn’t like Saitou would care. “Nothing.”

There was a momentary pause, then an uncharacteristically quiet, “When I return I expect to find everything as I left it, understand?”

The former Shinsengumi didn’t even bother sticking around for Sano’s reply, just left as soon as he’d said his piece.

Sano was actually briefly tempted to steal something just to get under Saitou’s skin, but quickly suppressed the urge. He’d been working to get Saitou’s respect ever since they’d met, and though he hadn’t done so hot, he knew that things were still better than they had been before… everything. Snatching one of Saitou’s possessions wasn’t likely to improve their relationship at all, and besides that… Sano was many things, but a thief wasn’t one of them. He exited the office less than a minute after Saitou did, and went looking for the nearest bar.

--*--

It was difficult getting uproariously drunk with no money to speak of, but by calling up a few favors with some friends who did have money and using the last of his credit in the one bar left who let him have a tab, Sano managed to find himself pleasantly buzzed and with half a bottle of (very bad, but who cared) sake still in hand by the time evening came around.

He didn’t particularly feel like heading back to his shack as the landowner had been making noise about the rent again, and considering how he had insulted Kaoru’s cooking at breakfast he doubted he would be welcome near the dojo for a day or two, so in the end Sano found himself sitting on the bank of the river that ran through Tokyo, watching the water amble on by as the sun went down. The sake was still crap and for some reason his head was telling him he was both more than slightly drunk and less than slightly hung over at the same time.

The fact that Saitou had been standing beside him for the last five minutes didn’t really improve matters much.

Sano didn’t really want to talk with the cop just then. He didn’t really want to talk with the cop ever, because until two weeks ago he had thought the man was dead and he was still pissed about it, and it just pissed him off more that Saitou acted like there was no reason for anyone to be concerned in the slightest about whether he was alive or not. Jackass.

Still, Saitou wasn’t saying anything and didn’t seem like he was about to, so probably the only way to make him leave was to start the conversation off. “You just gonna stand there all night?”

Saitou shrugged. For once the cigarette was absent. “Unlikely. Watching you drink low-quality sake isn’t my idea of what constitutes good entertainment.”

Sano didn’t know what half of those words meant, but even drunk he wasn’t so stupid as to not be able to get the gist from the context. “So why ya here?”

The cop shrugged again. “I finished with Himura.”

Sano laughed. It came out a weird mix of the usual drunk giggle and more than a little bitterness. “Didn’t take you long to guilt Kenshin into risking his life again for the fucking Meiji this time?”

Saitou snorted. “Please. Makoto Shishio was an isolated incident. I just wanted to ask your Battousai whether he had some information on an old comrade of his from the Revolution who has recently been spending his time murdering the families of disposed samurai.”

Sano winced, despite himself. Going after your old enemies was one thing, but bringing their families into it was just low. “Did he?”

“Hasn’t heard from the man since the war ended.”

“Too bad.” And Sano meant it. He didn’t really like Saitou much, but the guy was awfully good at what he did. No way he would let a sleazebag who killed women and children off without giving the bastard what he deserved.

There was a bit where they didn’t talk for a while, where Sano finished off the last of his sake and Saitou went on not smoking, but then the sake was gone and Saitou was still there and so Sano had to ask, “You know, finishing with Kenshin isn’t really a reason to come find me.”

“Grave offerings aren’t a topic that I’d think you would be interested in.”

Sometimes Sano wondered if Saitou was actually capable of missing anything, no matter how much the cop pretended to ignore people. “Yeah… well.” He tried to come up with something else to say. “Well.” That was about as far as he got.

“I didn’t have a grave.”

Sano shrugged and lay down on the grass with his hands acting as a cushion behind his head. “The burnt out husk of Shishio’s castle made a pretty good memorial, I thought.”

The idea of talking about this with Saitou three days ago had seemed… humiliating. Like he was admitting to something best left unsaid. It was the sake, Sano knew, that made it seem less so now, but at least he was sober enough not to expect much of a reaction from Saitou. The cop was about as sentimental as a post, even when it came to something like his supposed demise. But Sano sort of wanted to talk about it anyway. “You could have told someone you were okay. Or sent a note or something. I mean, I know you don’t really give a shit about what I think, but Kenshin was kind of bummed out about it, too. He doesn’t like you, but you’re… the only one left from then. I think he kind of likes the idea of knowing someone who went through the same war he did, even if you guys wouldn’t talk about it in a million years.”

He didn’t like Saitou anymore than Kenshin did. And even if Saitou was as strong as Kenshin, even if he was just as awesome a fighter, Kenshin was so much better a person that there wasn’t even a comparison. But even though Sano had long considered Kenshin to be unbeatable, he had thought Saitou to be unkillable. He always expected Kenshin to win, but from the first time Sano had come up against Saitou, he had thought Saitou was immortal in a way Kenshin never could be. Kenshin was too good to last forever. He was… what was the word Megumi had used once? Temporal. Saitou, on the other hand… the guy was like a fucking cockroach.

When Saitou had died… that had shaken Sano to the core. Shaken as he hadn’t been since he had fought Kenshin back when they first met, and not nearly in as good a way.

But Saitou hadn’t died. Which made Sano want to break things. He could have… all it would have taken was a fucking note. “I threw incense and candles and some of those dried flowers into the smoldering pit where I thought you had died. Thought it would increase your chances of making it into heaven, since there was no way in hell you would ever make it there on your own. Wasted all that money on you. Stupid of me. Really stupid. Could’ve bought food.”

Saitou had remained quiet through Sano’s rambling, but apparently Sano’s last words presented too much of an opening for him to resist. “You would have spent it on more alcohol.”

Sano laughed and closed his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Sano distantly heard Saitou turn around and make his way up the river bank, his shoes scuffing on the grass, but he didn’t bother opening his eyes to watch the cop go, which was why it took him a few seconds to respond when Saitou stopped halfway up and said, “Well?”

Sano blinked and propped himself up onto his elbows, craning his neck to look at Saitou, who was now staring at him, the older man’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Well what?”

“If you want me to buy you dinner, you’ll have to actually get up, moron.”

Dinner? Shit, Saitou may have been as good as fucking psychic, but he couldn’t honestly expect everyone else to be as well. Didn’t need to be a prick about Sano not catching on fast enough. Still… Sano hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and most of that he hadn’t been able to get down (eating Kaoru’s rice balls was practically an exercise in stamina itself). Dinner sounded… okay.

Saitou didn’t apologize. Ever. Partly because he was one of those people who was rarely wrong, but also because he was the sort of guy who didn’t linger on the few mistakes he made. But maybe… nah.

Still, Sano was never so stupid as to turn down free food. He pushed himself to his feet, wobbling only slightly from the lingering effects of the sake in his system, before turning to give Saitou a grin. “I know this great sushi place…”

Saitou didn’t return the grin, just started walking away. As Sano moved to follow, he found that he didn’t particularly care.

END

Christmas present for rayemars

2006-12-22T22:53:04Z

Title: A Compass That Doesn't Point North
Characters: Long Feng, Azula
Word Count: ~3,400
Rating: PG-13
Genre: A/U, General
Warnings (including spoilers): Spoilers for the second season finale of Avatar: The Last Airbender, subtext
Author's Note: Subtitles of this include Why Invading the Fire Nation Would Have Been A Bad Idea and All Good Politicians Took Some Acting Classes Back In Grammar School, which should give you some idea of my train of thought when I wrote this. Anyway, this is a Christmas present for rayemars, who wanted Azula/older guy smut (preferences include Zhao and Long Feng), or failing that, Azula interacting with one of said older guys, with hopefully some subtext thrown in. Obviously, I went for option number two. Also, I don't do the quote thing. Rayemars does the quote thing. However, I wrote this for rayemars, so I thought it somewhat appropriate.
Synopsis: If presented with a river, a canoe, and a bridge that would take three days of travel to get to, an Earthbender would invariably take the long way around. Unfortunately, some don't get a choice in the matter.

Earthbenders were not meant to travel by ship. The small navy Ba Sing Se had retained had been manned entirely by nonbenders, and for good reason.

Earthbenders were not meant to travel by ship. Were not meant to stand anywhere where they could not feel the earth around them. Were not meant to leave land at all.

Intellectually, Long Feng had always known this. Had even experienced it firsthand, to some extent, when he had spent those weeks in the prison below the Earth King’s palace surrounded by processed iron and studiously ignoring his shaking hands and the food shoved under the grate until hunger finally overcame extreme nausea. However, even there he had been able to sense the earth, too far away to bend but close enough to feel the low-pitched hum of granite and shale and the slight higher tones of hard-packed sand, just out of reach. He hadn’t slept well, but at least he had slept.

The same couldn’t be said now, hundreds of miles from the nearest landmass and heading further away by the hour. The Fire Nation ship had left the southern coast of the Earth Kingdom four days ago, and it would be weeks before it passed the first isle in the string of islands that made up the Fire Nation. In the room assigned to him on the Fire Nation princess’s order, Long Feng had lain with his eyes closed and an excruciating migraine clawing down his spine. He had doused the lamp on the first day. It did not really help.

He had anticipated the journey with dread, though he had not had long to do so, only being told the day before the Princess Azula’s departure that he would be accompanying her and the prince back to the Fire Nation capital to, as she put it, ‘act as her advisor concerning all matters pertaining to the Earth Kingdom.’ It was fortunate that all Dai Li operatives, active and retired, automatically had their possessions ceded to the state upon death or becoming otherwise disposed. As it was, Long Feng barely had time to pack, much less put his affairs in order.

The Fire Nation Army had entered Ba Sing Se two weeks before to little fanfare, the city’s populace due to the Dai Li’s efforts too disorganized, too fearful, or too ignorant to put up any resistance to the Fire Nation’s occupation. A mewling, pathetic sycophant whom Long Feng had despised on sight and was according to the princess one of her father’s favorites, had arrived with the army to act in the Fire Nation’s stead as governor of the city, nodding earnestly at Princess Azula’s instructions while self-satisfaction at his new post radiated from his every pore. The man barely blinked at her offhand mention of the Dai Li as the preservers of cultural integrity within Ba Sing Se, did not give Long Feng—standing at the time two steps to the right and one step behind the princess with his hands folded behind him—a second glance, and the first one had slid over him with obvious dismissal.

The Fire Nation noble who was to rule over the city Long Feng had dedicated his life to was a fool, and Long Feng did not know whether to be amused or dismayed at the way the princess recognized this as well, and acted accordingly. An incompetent governor was one likely manage badly and quell the inevitable discontent with force, and though Long Feng had no particular desire to see Ba Sing Se’s residents massacred by the crowd, he also knew that such an environment was one likely to foster true rebellion, the sort that would let the governor know in short order that a city of Ba Sing Se’s size could not be held by an army alone.

But Princess Azula, unfortunately, was far from a fool. She had not even bothered to be subtle about glossing over the Dai Li’s role in the coupe, had stood with her hands clasped in front of her and stumbled over the new governor’s questions about trade routes and troop placement within the city with her eyes averted ever so slightly towards the floor. The governor had smiled tolerantly and reassured her that he was sure such information could be gathered from the city’s records, that he should have known that the Fire Nation princess had no reason to concern herself with such minutiae. Long Feng had been hard pressed not to roll his eyes. Perhaps the performance had not been as bad as all that—he had been taken in as easily as the governor when he had first met the princess—but he still had gotten the feeling that Princess Azula had not been putting much effort into her deception.

Not that she had needed to. The governor had not even noticed the Dai Li agents standing unobtrusively at every corner of the room and by every door, had apparently never given a thought as to how a girl that could take over the greatest city in the Earth Kingdom in a week could possibly be anything less than brilliant. He was a puppet, one that would dance at a word or have his strings cut on the orders that Long Feng knew the princess had already given out to the Dai Li agents stationed within the palace.

Long Feng did not spare the man much contemplation after their initial meeting. He had spent the first fortnight of the Fire Nation’s occupation overseeing the narrowing of the streets of the Lower Ring to prevent potential riots and idly waiting to have one of his former subordinates murder him in his sleep as soon as Princess Azula made the decision that he had outlived his usefulness.

It had not happened. He could appreciate the princess’s reasoning, he supposed. She might be able to rule Ba Sing Se from afar with only one of her father’s hangers-on to deal with, but not if he was in a position to reassert his former authority. Killing him would have been the simplest way to deal with the issue, but he knew that she knew that that could prove possibly problematic in the long run.

So instead, she did this. It was a good idea, as far as it went, removing him as far as possible from his power base and bringing him entirely onto hers, being able to use the knowledge he possessed without fear of being betrayed in an attempt to return Ba Sing Se to its rightful place as the last remaining great Earth Kingdom city, something that would be impossible thousands of miles from the city itself. But only if he did not die of sheer misery in the process, which though technically medically impossible was starting to seem more and more likely as the days went on. Starvation was always a possibility.

Long Feng could have happily lived out the rest of his life without laying foot on a ship. How the Earth King had planned to invade the Fire Nation when the only way of getting there was by sea was a mystery. No Earthbender would ever willingly leave land, and even with the Earth King’s order, there was little chance of any of the bending soldiers being in any condition to fight upon arrival at the Fire Nation. But then, there was a reason Long Feng had managed to rule without question in Ba Sing Se for so long. The Earth King had never been what one would call methodical. Or intelligent, really.

But now there would be no invasion of the Fire Nation at all. The only Earthbender to set foot on Fire Nation soil now, the first in over one hundred years, would be Long Feng himself, and he would have just as soon stayed in the Earth Kingdom. It was unfortunate he had absolutely no say in the matter.

Long Feng was considering what possible advantages there might have been to choosing the implied second option (one, never having to have gotten onto a boat) when there was a single knock on his cabin door. Long Feng opened his eyes in time to see Princess Azula enter without bothering to wait for his acknowledgement.

He managed to push himself into a sitting position on his bed without wincing, and briefly considered standing up to bow, but knew that attempting to become vertical at this point was unadvisable. The last time he had attempted to walk along the ship’s corridors without the assistance of a wall, he had nearly fallen on his face. Equilibrium was by this point something of a cherished memory instead of an achievable goal. “Princess. Is there anything I can do for you?” He winced, then, though not from the pain. Since he had come on board, he had drank water little more than he had eaten food, which was not at all—the richness of Fire Nation fare along with his migraine-induced nausea could not possibly have positive results—and his throat was so dry that the words came out in a rasp.

She was, Long Feng noticed in the poor lighting provided by the hall and through the incessant pounding in his skull, dressed now in Fire Nation colors, a long red robe trimmed in yellow and decorated along the sleeves in the pattern of a dragon breathing fire in a slightly darker gold than the hem. It looked as expensive and impractical as the most sweeping of garments worn by Ba Sing Se’s nobility, though Long Feng would have been convinced she wore a shirt and pants under the elaborate costume even if he could not see the fabric tucked into her boots. Princess Azula was not one to leave her protection in the hands of others.

For all the deficiencies in the robe’s design, it did, however, make her look her part, as she had not quite when adorned in brown and green. Powerful then, yes, but not like the daughter of the Fire Lord. Now she did.

In Ba Sing Se, such a guise would have proven detrimental, reminded the Dai Li, perhaps, that they were deferring to the Fire Nation princess. To the enemy. The Fire Nation soldiers probably needed such a reminder of her rank. She was, after all, despite everything, still barely older than a child.

She was looking at him now, just inside the cabin’s threshold with the door left cracked open, her head tilted slightly to the side, with her mouth quirked in a way Long Feng had come to interpret as amusement. “Long Feng. You look terrible. Seasick, I suppose?” The question came out as rhetorical, both because it was obvious and because she knew that that was not exactly the case. One of her first orders back at the Earth King’s palace had been to bring her a file on Earthbenders’ weaknesses, and the aversion to sea travel had figured prominently.

Long Feng said nothing, though his eyes flickered downward for a moment before he returned his gaze to hers. It would be foolish to stare. Coming across as confrontational now of all times—when he was not only away from land but means of support and an avenue of retreat as well—would likely have unpleasant results.

He wondered why she was here. It was possible that the princess had come to his room just to taunt him, but he doubted it. She did not come across as a person who made a habit of being pointlessly petty.

He was soon proven right, as after a brief pause, she spoke again, snapping her fingers as she did so and causing the room’s lamp to flare brightly. Long Feng narrowed his eyes at the sudden illumination. The new infusion of light did little to improve his migraine. “Tonight you will be joining me, my brother, Admiral Wen and Captain Zhang in the state room for dinner. A soldier will come retrieve you before it begins.” She looked him over critically. “The baths on the lowest deck will be free for the next hour. I expect you will use them.” It was in a seeming non sequitur that she followed that up with, “Admiral Wen has only recently been promoted and is eager to prove himself to my father. Doubtlessly his report will be very thorough.”

Long Feng met her eyes calmly. “And what would you like the Fire Lord to hear about me, Princess Azula?”

She smiled, then, different from before but still entirely familiar. It was the smile she had turned on him that first evening when she had sat on the Earth King’s throne and watched him kneel before her, the expression one would normally use on an intelligent pet that had just accomplished a trick correctly for the first time. “You have done well enough so far. The admiral has to my brother already made a rather crude joke concerning the weak constitutions of Earthbenders. I want you to give him no reason to change his opinion.”

Long Feng inclined his head. The message came across clearly enough. The Fire Lord did not want an Earthbender in the Fire Nation, but he would indulge his daughter. If the Earthbender was not a threat.

Well, Long Feng could play that role easily enough. He had no desire to die, not now that he was already on this infernal ship and certainly not just as they docked, and as disoriented as being so far away from land made him, it would not be difficult, if he could keep himself from too obviously grinding his teeth at the Fire Nation’s officers’ predictable derision. He could only hope that being so close to food did not make him ill.

As far as he could tell, that was it. But Princess Azula did not leave, at the lowering of his gaze actually took a step further into his cabin. Then another. Long Feng stared at her, startled despite himself, as she stopped less than a foot from his bed, close enough that she would not even have to reach out to touch him. He realized belatedly that he had shifted so that his back was now pressed against the wall, though his feet were still planted evenly on the floor in a thoughtless attempt to gain stable footing. A useless effort. He could have the most stable stance in the world and it would not do him the least good. Not here.

She did not blink as she met his stare, her yellow eyes looking slitted in the lamp light. After a long moment, Long Feng had to look away.

He expected her to smile. She did not. Strangely, her voice was unusually somber as she said, “There is no love for the Earth Kingdom in the Fire Nation. No matter what your title or accomplishments, you will never be seen as anything but the citizen of a conquered kingdom, and therefore as an object of hatred and scorn.” Without any more warning than the slight increase of tension in the muscles of her shoulder, Long Feng felt her hand grip his chin and yank, forcing him to meet her eyes again. Long Feng raised his own hand, unconsciously, a gesture that would have in any other circumstance, with any other person, resulted in a breaking of fingers. He did not take to be touched well. But he was not in Ba Sing Se anymore. And Princess Azula was nothing like the Earth King.

He let his hand fall. The princess barely seemed to notice that he had moved, the slight tightening of her fingers the only acknowledgement of his aborted attempt at resistance, her nails biting further into his skin. Her stare did not shift. In her eyes, the lamp flame flickered red. “You cannot hope to find my father’s favor. My brother cares not for the workings of the Earth Kingdom, and my uncle is a traitor that is not likely to survive the month. You will never see Ba Sing Se again.”

He blinked, once, but otherwise did not change his expression. Ah. So that was how it was.

Long Feng forced himself to speak evenly as he replied, “And if you should grow tired of me?”

It was then that her smile, not so much a grin as a baring of teeth, crossed her lips, the shadows cast by the lamp making grotesque the shifting of the planes of her face. “I am not capricious. But you would do well to make sure it never happens. Fire Nation nobles thrive on sensing weakness. You would die quickly.”

“How reassuring.”

This time the grin actually held an edge of humor. “I said quickly. I never said anything about painlessly.”

She let go of him, then, and turned away. Only at the doorway did she pause, and throw carelessly over one shoulder, “Remember. Dinner.”

He had actually forgotten. “Of course.”

Then she left.

Long Feng did not have time just then to contemplate what he had learned, did not have a moment to spare until after dinner, which he had spent not eating, blinking frequently, and answering all of the admiral’s insults-poorly-disguised-as-questions and the captain’s occasional quip with his eyes downcast and his voice low. The prince had seemed suspicious, staring alternately at him and then his sister with barely concealed confusion—hardly surprising, the boy had seen him back in Ba Sing Se and did not seem so unobservant that he would not notice the shift in behavior—but the two Fire Nation officers kept on sharing conspicuously amused glances when they thought he was not looking, so apparently he was not so poor an actor. The princess had also looked like she found something amusing, though for what Long Feng knew to be entirely different reasons.

Then after three hours had passed, it was over. Long Feng returned to his cabin, his hand trailing along the wall so it might catch him if he fell—he did not, fortunately—and sat down heavily on his bed. It was only after he turned to again douse the lamp that he saw the basket of bread rolls and glass of water on his bedside table. There was no note, but one was hardly necessary. There was only one person who could have possibly sent them, though he did not know why she bothered. Poisoning him at this late stage seemed a bit excessive.

He ate the rolls. Did not feel nauseous afterwards, which was encouraging. But though his migraine had receded for the first time in days, he still did not attempt to go to sleep. He had too much to think about to be bothered.

--*--

“So you are Long Feng.”

Long Feng did not look up from his kneeling position before the Fire Lord’s raised throne. “Yes, my lord.” After three weeks of sea travel, he was still getting used to the feel of earth surrounding him again. The stone used in the building of the Fire Lord’s castle was a different type than the kind used in the construction of the Earth King’s palace. But it was still stone.

He may have been in the Fire Nation, but he was still, in some sense, in his element. It was more reassuring than Long Feng knew the situation warranted, but he could at least be thankful that this meeting was not happening on a boat.

“My daughter has an interesting choice in pets.”

It was the same amused tone. If Long Feng dared to raise his eyes, it would probably be the same smile, as well. But as was rapidly becoming clear, the Fire Lord was not as clever as his daughter.

The Fire Lord would not allow an Earthbender in the Fire Nation if he could possibly pose a threat. So Long Feng would not present one.

“Yes, my lord.”

A princess that had been born to rule would chafe under the rule of another. He could afford to wait. And if things went well… perhaps it would not be as long as all that before his gaze fell again on his city’s walls.

If the highest aim of a captain were to preserve his ship, he would keep it in port forever
~St. Thomas Aquinas

Avatar: The Last Airbender Speculation

2006-12-06T01:56:14Z

I've been thinking lately about the 1984-esque system of fear and repression the Dai Li have been enforcing in Ba Sing Se, and you know what? I don't think it was Long Feng who started it all.

For one, the whole system is incredibly intricate. Having a secret base under Lake Laogai to brainwash people, being able to brainwash people at all, coming up with the ideas of brainwashing a bunch of tour guides and enforcing the mode of thought that there is no war with the Fire Nation, it all seems a bit much for one guy to come up with. For another, Long Feng doesn't seem old enough to have been in power long enough to convince someone as old as the Earth King that there isn't a war.

Long Feng looks about forty (complete estimate, here), and the Earth King looks about a decade younger (another estimate). Being generous, if he climbed up the hierarchy ladder at an extraordinary rate (as he couldn't have been given the position due to his family connections, given what Azula said about Long Feng having been 'born with nothing'), Long Feng has held his position for the past ten years. If he came into power when the Earth King was twenty and started putting into effect his 1984 regime immediately, it would probably take up to the present day and perhaps beyond to be totally effective (ignoring the fact that if Long Feng has started everything, he somehow managed to come up with a nearly fail-safe brainwashing technique the likes of which no one in the Avatar World has ever seen before), and that still wouldn't account for the Earth King believing there isn't a war.

Which means there is only one answer: Long Feng didn't come up with any of it, and is just perpetuating something the Dai Li have been doing for generations, probably since the war with the Fire Nation started one hundred years ago and perhaps even before then. Refugees would account for the regular populace knowing about the war, as it might take a while before some of the refugees get the hint and stop talking about the war, but it still covers why many of the higher officials who never left the city wouldn't know a thing about the war.

Of course, all this does is shift the blame from Long Feng to messed up Ba Sing Se traditions, from an individual to a society that as a whole has allowed something so completely repressive as the Dai Li's current system of government to exist for over one hundred years.

Chances are, Long Feng was once Dai Li as well. I have no idea how the system of choosing Dai Li operatives works, but looking at how cohesive a unit they are, I'd guess they were selected at childhood for their earth bending skills and indoctrinated into the Dai Li, to protect the 'customs of the city' so the regular populace isn't distracted by the war. There could be a lot of justifications for the whole 'keeping the Earth King in the dark' thing, perhaps because the Earth King needs to be a symbol, and a symbol can't be seen to have weaknesses, so the original founder of the current modus operandi of Dai Li decided to take on the weaknesses for the Earth King, and that came to be translated into taking on all the Earth King's power as well. As Dai Li operatives grow too old for field work, they're probably funneled into the lower official jobs that hold all the real power, so in the end all the top officials of Ba Sing Se are ineffectual nobility while former Dai Li sit at their desks and quietly keep things going.

Long Feng was probably the top Dai Li operative of his generation, so when he grew past the top of his game (i.e. age thirty or so), he was probably chosen by the former leader of the Dai Li to take over and continue the Dai Li traditions.

Which means that Long Feng isn't any more evil than any of the other Dai Li operatives, as like them he believes the Dai Li are doing the right thing, and all other Dai Li would do the exact same in his place, Joo Dee mass brainwashing and blackmailing the Avatar included, all in the name of keeping the peace. Even overthrowing the Earth King can be justified as restoring the order of Ba Sing Se, as the king is determined to disrupt it by throwing the city fully into the war.

Long Feng being former Dai Li also accounts for why the Dai Li chose him over the Earth King, but Azula over him. The Dai Li see him as one of their own, so they would be inclined to trust him to lead them in the right direction over an outsider like the Earth King, but at the same time that works against him when someone like Azula comes into the picture. They don't trust Long Feng so much as the system they and their predecessors have been holding up for generations, of which the Earth King knows little to nothing at all. Long Feng may be one of them, but that is all he could ever be, as it is likely he knows some of the Dai Li operatives from when he himself was one, so could never command the sort of all-consuming respect that someone, such as Azula, who comes into the picture at the top of their powers possibly could. Azula, with her sweeping plots and eerily commanding presence, could easily be seen as something more than them, someone to be revered instead of accepted like Long Feng, and considering they were moving to overthrow the Earth King, a nearly god-like figure like Azula could be considered to be someone they would need to rely on to keep the system of order they'd been enforcing in Ba Sing Se for generations from being extinguished forever.

My final conclusion is that the blame for the Dai Li doesn't even fall on the shoulders of anyone alive during Avatar: The Last Airbender. It's just so firmly embedded in Ba Sing Se culture that I doubt any of the Dai Li could see a decent alternative. Which is kind of creepy, if you think about it too much. And this is supposed to be a kids' show, too.

Avatar and My Birthday

2006-12-02T20:23:00Z

Tomorrow I turn 19, which is a completely useless age, but oh well. There will be cake involved, but I already received the presents my family gave me (a trip back home for Thanksgiving and the Collector's Edition of FFXII, to name a few). Mm... presents.

Now on to something I sadly consider to be of more interest to me personally.

Half the reason I was always so fond of Zhao/Azula was because it seemed so obvious to me that Azula would top. Well, I'm afraid my so-called Avatar OTP has been completely displaced by Long Feng/Azula, which has actual character interaction on top of Azula completely pwning his sorry ass. For God's sake, he kneeled in front of her while she sat on the Earth King's throne. It also helps that unlike Zhao, Long Feng is not the main villain of the season and therefore does not look likely to be offed.

I want Long Feng/Azula fic so freaking bad right now.