Title Here: Multi-fandom Writings

1) Bell Crannel, Visionary​

Bell Cranel had had many hopes when coming to Orario. Getting a harem. Picking up girls. Picking up girls by saving them heroically in the dungeon!

He’d been a fool.

“I should have listened to Miss Einaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!” He cried as he ran desperately down a corridor in the lower fifth floor of The Dungeon.

“HOOOUUUH!!” Bellowed the Minotaur, a monster that could, would and was going to kill him.

‘Minotaurs aren’t supposed to be in the lower fifthhhhh!!’ Bell yelled mentally. Then he tripped, skidded and crawled back at all speed… until his back hit a wall. There were no exits, it was a dead end. Bell Cranel’s dead end. The Minotaur loomed, spittle flying from its lips, sharp teeth that no bull had, red eyes glaring at home with unparalleled hate– Its paw came down—

And slid off. Bell stared. The minotaur stared. There was the faintest impression of a line in silver in the air. A flash just like in his imagination. The minotaur fell to bits in a geyser of blood. “Gruoo!?” “Wah!?”

“Are you… okay?” Bell blinked beastly blood from his eyes and saw her. A beautiful girl in gold, silver and blue. Even he knew who she was. The Sword Princess, Ais Wallenstein. Bell’s heart feels like it’s stopped, just for her. His face was beet red (beneath the blood). His eyes were wide as plates. His mouth dropped open. Like in the songs, this must be love. The warrior tilted her head and extended a hand to help him up.

Bell was shaking. In fact, he was so nervous, he couldn’t even raise his arm to take her hand. Suddenly, he felt shy, a level of shyness he couldn’t believe even existed. A feeling that ignited an engine within him. In conclusion, some part of him decided, he had to run. He couldn’t face her. So he r— bonked his head against a translucent barrier. “Gah!”

The high-class adventurer behind him fell into a guard position.

Bell rubbed his aching head. Oh no. Not now. But it was too late. A translucent bubble had appeared, trapping him. “N-n-not again.” Trapping him with Ais Wallenstein. “Not like this!”

“Do you know what this is?” The quiet voice from the golden-haired girl behind him was more intense than its volume would indicate.

Bell stiffened with a small cry. He wanted to claw at the barrier, but he knew it was ‘inviolable’. There was no escape. His head crashed harshly against the ground as he turned, eyes closed, and prostrated himself in the ultimate maneuver– “I’m very sorry!” Dogeza!

—Two weeks ago—

“Oh! Bell, you have a skill!” Hestia brightened as she beheld her first child’s status. “It’s… huh…” She frowned as she read it. “[Visions of Heroes from Worlds Beyond]?” Translated roughly from divine hieroglyphs. The goddess’ brow furrowed deeply as she read the frankly absurdly long and seemingly impossible skill description.

“Hm… Goddess? Goddess!?” Bell’s voice pulled her away from it. She had been boring holes into his back for five awkwardly silent minutes.

“What is– oh.”

The air was different. At the edge of the room, beyond the window, they could see that a translucent barrier separated them from the rest of the world. A world that had stopped in its tracks. A flock of pigeons hung static in mid-air.

The goddess climbed to her feet. “Oh no… It can’t be.” But after several minutes trying and failing to get out, she conceded that mayhaps she had to do something a bit more drastic. Blue eyes glowed as Hestia inhaled and the red glow of coals manifested across the strands of her hair. But nothing wavered under her authority and she dared not unleash more of her arcanum. “Bell,” she asked, “you wouldn’t happen to be feeling something like… magic?”

“I-I-I? This w-was me?” The boy was close to panicking. This was not what he’d ever been expecting when he imagined life as an adventurer. He’d already tried to force the barrier, to no avail. Naturally, he felt trapped.

Slap.

Bell raised a hand to where Hestia had slapped him and… “It doesn’t hurt?” Indeed, he hadn’t felt the impact. He’d turned his face from reflex.

“It’s definitely your skill.” Hestia spoke, her aspect returning to a normal, short and stacked, black-haired goddess. “[Visions of Heroes from Worlds Beyond] creates a space outside of time. Because it’s outside of time, damage can’t be dealt. It’s… supposedly impossible to break.” That strained even her divine belief, to be honest.

“How do we leave? Can I make it go away?” Bell perked up.

“Hm, well. Supposedly, it goes away by itself when the conditions are fulfilled.”

“The conditions?”

“Everybody inside has to witness the Visions of Heroes from Worlds Beyond.” Hestia nodded. “In other words, we have to… watch? Or read… stories about people from other worlds.”

“That’s…” It was a lot. Visions? From other worlds? Bell hadn’t known other worlds even existed! The part about hero stories sounded nice? “How??”

“Well…” That part Hestia wasn’t sure about. “Concentrate Bell! There’s even a chance that you get magic or more skills from the stories of those heroes!”

“Eh!? Really!?”

---

Many thanks to Xicree for helping plan and pre-read this.
Always liked this sort of stories, so ... yeah. It has a plot, I swear. Planned (bits of) shows to watch include, for now, My Hero Academia, Negima, RWBY, Fate/, Full Metal Alchemist. The ones I know for sure.

 

2.1) Hestia, Giver of Hope​

“It looks like a Divine Mirror…” Hestia said, somewhat uneasy. This skill… it was breaking the rules, for sure! Maybe she should talk with another god later. No, she definitely needed to. Somebody that wouldn’t immediately accuse her of using her arcanum (she had not!) which reduced the list… considerably.

With just a little bit of concentration, Bell had manifested a rectangular window in space. For Bell, it felt like he had a flint in his hands. He just needed to spark the vision into reality now. Everything was ready.

Goddess and mortal had pulled two stools together and now sat, ready to watch the vision. It was a little exciting, like magic.

“Ready Bell?” “Yes Goddess!”

Before their incredulous eyes, the dark in the mirror faded to reveal white buildings and the foliage of trees. The sound of crickets filled the bubble. Hestia narrowed her eyes. It was definitely another world.

Bell was seeing new things. “That’s a clock– oh.”

The vision changed to show a small green-haired child, staring at them while shaking, tears in his eyes. Immediately, the heart of both of them went to him.

«Enough Kacchan!» The child cried to somebody. «You already made him cry… Stop it!»

“Ah, he’s protecting his friend from bullies!” Bell exclaimed. The vision had zoomed out to show there were three other children in front of them.

“I don’t think he’s got a lot of chances…” Hestia noted. The child was… well, wimpy-looking.

And then “WHA!?!?” each of the three bullies: grew wings, grew their fingers into tentacles, and made explosions from their hands. Bell and Hestia stared slack jawed as the vision showed the bullies attacking the scared child.

“Wait, wait!” Bell threw his arms up and the vision stopped. “What was that!” One of the boys had grown wings like a dragon! Were they human?

Hestia rubbed her chin, trying to sound wise despite being somewhat shocked herself. “Well, it’s another world. There are many worlds out there. Worlds with just humans… worlds without! We should probably watch more. This is just like the prologue of a book!”

Bell nodded, mollified. “It does feel like the beginning of a story… That bully, he mentioned being a hero and… quirkless?” They’d probably get some answers if they continued watching the vision. “But… are they human?” He wondered still.

Hestia raised an eyebrow at the sudden doubt of her mortal child. She smiled, huffing. “Well, bullies, protecting others… they were acting like humans or demi-humans, no?”

Oh. Bell nodded. He understood.

The vision continued as he calmed down. The fight wasn’t shown. Instead, it moved forward to show them the child on the ground, beaten.

«People are not born equal. That was the hard truth I learned at age four.» The scene changed to show a black-dressed young man running through a colourful street while a voice narrated. «And that was my first and last setback!»

““It’s his backstory.”” The two watchers, long-time story readers, said at the same time.

“That city… it looks so strange.” Bell noted the scenery. There were black paved streets and glass was everywhere and there were magic lights that changed colors.

“That’s because that world is much more advanced than this one.” Hestia explained. “It’s the power of technology! See, that’s a car! It’s like a carriage but made of metal, powered by an engine and, well, probably not magic stones…”

“Not magic stones?” Bell couldn’t help but ask. “What sort of magic does it use then?”

Hestia suddenly found herself under pressure. “Huh, well, it could be petrol or electricity… Actually Bell, these are the sort of details you shouldn’t sweat. It’s another world. I’m betting it doesn’t even have monsters.”

The human goggled at her. “... no monsters?” What sort of ideal world was that? Did a world like that need heroes?

“It’s somewhere in a place like the Far East. See, sakura!” Hestia said loudly, pointing at the vision.

The boy, definitely the child from before now that they could see his green fluffy hair, was running through streets and under pink blossoms with a big smile on his face. A monster roared suddenly, startling Bell and Hestia. Then the vision was showing the boy again and–

“Ah, a namecard.” Hestia noted.

“A name card?”

“It’s like if in a play they stopped to announce the dramatis personae when each entered.”

“So he’s Izuku Midoriya…” Bell nodded to himself. It was definitely a person from the Far East (or… whatever that meant in another world) because his name was also written with the glyph-characters from those languages. “Not Deku?”

The monster towered over small buildings while a crowd watched, the boy among them. «A giant villain!»

“A villain?” Bell leaned forward.

“Ah,” Hestia nodded. “That’s probably why none of those people are worried about it.”

“Ah, that’s right, they’re all too close to the monster!” “Just watch Bell, I’m getting a sense of what sort of story this is.” The boy shot his goddess a look but was quick to refocus on the scene.

Only for it to completely change. A narration started, with the birth of a glowing baby. Bell’s eyes widened as a world where everybody had magic, a superpower, was introduced to them. The silhouette of a huge man with a cape appeared, and he knew what it was before the vision announced them.

Heroes.

“Strong! And water magic!” He pointed out as the heroes appeared to protect the crowd.

“It’s a world of heroes all right.” Hestia sighed. “That’s why they’re all dressed in ridiculous ways like that…”

“Hu? But they look awesome?”

A goddess sweatdropped. She supposed it was natural since mortals had no concept of ‘cringe’.

Izuku shimmied through the crowd to get closer.

“So, that’s not a monster, but somebody’s magic?” Bell noted.

“Quirks, like they call them, are different from magic. Better not confuse it.” Hestia explained with the experience of somebody who’d read more genres of stories. “Still, a purse-snatcher…”

‘What an over-reaction!’ Both thought of the villain. The battle continued as a new hero entered the scene.

Bell almost missed the weird appearance of the man next to Izuku in the crowd. Was it that person’s own mag– quirk? Then he felt a deep sense of kinship with Izuku, as his fanboying was called out. The wood-clad hero confronted the villain. Hestia fought not to cover her face as he started monologuing.

‘Don’t tell me he’s actually going to call out his final attack!’ She despaired internally. Next to her, Bell was transfixed. ‘Don’t get weird ideas Bell, these aren’t role models!’

A giant lady interrupted with a flying kick.

“Kill stealer!?” The two were as shocked as the crowd at the audacity.

The new hero announced herself with a pun that made Bell sputter, and a crowd of people appeared out of nowhere with flashing lights.

“What are those?”

“Cameras. They take photographs… hum, make super realistic paintings with technology.” Hestia quickly explained to him.

“Wait, then…” Bell tilted his head, calculating angles. “Then!”

“How shameless…”

The narrator returned to explain the origin of heroes in that society, as the villain was arrested, highlighting how Mt. Lady had stolen Kamui’s credit.

“That’s not very heroic of her…” Said Bell.

“Yes, she sounds more like an adventurer.” Said Hestia.

Bell turned to her, questioning. Hestia patted his naive little head.

Izuku was taking notes of the whole battle, and the man from before encouraged him. Bell inwardly cheered as well. Izuku had already shown his heroic character after all!

“Oh, a title card!” “A title–? I see.”

The scene changed. “A school?” “Yes, these sorts of places are common in other worlds. See, seifuku uniforms!” Hestia pointed out one of the ‘inventions’ the gods had introduced in their own world.

“Quirks can make people look so strange…” Bell noted of a boy with rocks for hair. Then, everybody started using their powers, and he recoiled. “Gah!” Some were very weird. The teacher was interrupted by an arrogant boy. «Don’t lump us all in the same group.» Who was introduced with his own namecard.

Bell started. “Wait, that’s the same bully as before! Katsuki… like Kacchan!” “He doesn’t seem to have changed much…” Hestia noted with a frown.

She was proved right as Katsuki announced he was going to a certain school and started bragging about his accomplishments and what he would become in the future. Everybody seemed awestruck by him. Bell and Hestia lacked context but they could understand it by everybody’s reactions. Then, the teacher mentioned Izuku’s desire to the class’ shock, followed by loud derision and laughter.

“Why are they being so mean!?” Bell cringed at the mockery, once again feeling sympathy for Izuku.

Hestia’s eyes suddenly widened. “Wait– remember at the start–?” Katsuki attacked Izuku and revealed the reason why: he was quirkless.

“Then Isuku doesn’t have… a power?” Bell’s shoulders slumped as he watched the green-haired boy stutter and be driven back against the wall by the advancing bully. «It’s just… been my dream since I was little» Bell too— suddenly, the empathy he felt towards the green-haired boy crystalized. Bell’s dreams… and then the rejection he’d faced in Orario…

Hestia side-eyed him with a thoughtful expression. She took one of his hands, tightly clenched into a fist and gave him a smile.

‘That’s right. Goddess Hestia took me in! Then him too, maybe–’

In his musings, Bell almost missed as another villain was shown, a slime-like monster man running away without opposition. Until a figure in shadows stepped up, growing into a familiar silhouette. «Because I am here»

“Isn’t that the hero from before?”

The scene returned to Izuku’s classroom. “That’s technology too…” Hestia lamented as she pointed out another amazing item that had many things on a screen. Only for Katsuki to return, stealing one of Izuku’s books. “Him again!? Nasty boy…”

“Why’s he doing that?” Bell growled powerlessly as Izuku got his book destroyed. Hero Analysis, that sounded cool and useful! He looked on, mulishly, as the bully hounded Izuku until something unforgivable was said.

«If you think you’ll have a quirk in your next life… go take a swan dive off the roof!»

Hestia hissed and Bell gapped. “That’s– that’s–” He trembled with the injustice, but in the vision, Izuku was unable to confront the stronger boy. “That’s… beyond mean.”

“It’s despicable.” Hestia agreed, rubbing the back of his hand. “If that boy wants to be a hero, mmph! He’s going to have to change a lot.” Being a true hero required more than strength. It needed character. Like Izuku had shown before. Yet, she also knew the world looked favorably upon the strong…

Izuku recovered his book from being fish-food, and the younger version of him returned.

“A flashback?” “Yes! Small Izuku is so cute!”

Bell’s anger was sucked away as a story within a story was shown. A hero. ‘The hero from before!’ Laughing deeply, with a wide smile as he saved everybody, chasing away their fear– Bell made a connection with that lame hero from the stories… Argonaut. This was… the hero Argonaut had tried to be, surely.

Both Bell and Izuku couldn’t help but smile themselves.

«You should probably give it up.» The doctor explained to his patients that Izuku was Quirkless.

Bell deflated. Was it hopeless then? Maybe Izuku was like the Argonaut from the fairy tale, a wannabe hero that had no power and was tricked and deceived? Except Izuku wasn’t… smiling. Bell didn’t want to watch a sad version of that story, he fought his own tears at little Izuku’s tearful question in the dark.

“Let’s keep watching.” Hestia told him, pulling him from his depressive thoughts. “It’s not over yet, right?”

“Right. Right!” If there was hope for Bell, there was hope for the green-haired kid from another world. And the grown Izuku was back, striding forward despite everything. He entered a tunnel while laughing badly, like a fool. ‘There’s still hope–!’ The slime villain appeared from the ground. “What sort of luck!?”

“Run away!” Hestia echoed his feelings, but Izuku wasn’t fast enough, getting engulfed by the slime.

They watched, horrified, as the slime villain tried to force his way into the boy’s lungs. If he didn’t speak, it would be impossible to distinguish him from a monster. Bell had gotten up and frozen, unable to help the boy he saw being slowly suffocated. “Somebody!!” He echoed Izuku.

A flash. Hestia and Bell held their breaths. The hero rose from the sewers. Every move was raw power. His back was fit to carry an entire world. He dodged the villain like it was nothing and in one powerful punch, blew him away without even touching him.

“Amazing…” Bell’s eyes were sparkling. “He saved him.”

“Yeah!” Hestia punched the air. “Go hero!”

Izuku woke up and was so shocked at seeing his childhood idol that he was beyond words, almost running away. Bell thought he wouldn’t act so panicked if, say… Epimetheus had saved him… probably, maybe. No, for sure! Izuku was on the verge of passing out from sheer happiness-shock, from what the vision showed.

“Wah!” Hestia sputtered. “He captured him in a soda bottle?” The background had changed and everything.

“All Might? All Might is so cool and strong!” Bell was entering a fanboying phase like Izuku. A shining smile, a towering figure, bursting with charisma. He’d somehow even signed an autograph in the blink of an eye.

“Please don’t act like Izuku if you ever meet Ottar the Warlord…” Hestia bemoaned. “And forget about worshiping any of Loki’s– Wait did he just break the fourth wall?”

All Might prepared to leave. “Come on, ask him now Izu–oh too late…” The hero had leapt far into the air, but– ““He grabbed on!?”” Izuku had grabbed onto his leg.

There was confusion before Izuku was settled against the hero’s leg. The hero flying through the air coughed, a trickle of blood appearing. «Shit.»

“He’s hurt?” Bell was shocked. “But he wasn’t hit in that fight?”

Hestia frowned, her intuition sharpening her eyes.

They landed on a building and All Might prepared to leave again. The voices of Izuku’s past returned, and the boy blurted out the burning question he had to know the answer for. All Might stopped. «Can even someone without a Quirk be like you?» The hero looked back at the boy, both framed by the wide blue sky.

Bell leaned forward. He had to know. Could somebody like Izuku– like Bell—

---

We're watching the first chapter of the manga, which unfortunately are two whole episodes...
Ahah, hope my characterization is ok. Re-watching MHA and thinking, 'uh, All Might has some great Argonaut vibes... if Argo was actually strong'.

 

MurderBinge for Two, Please
1.1 +++ just-in-case content warnings: murder and violence
Concrete, steel, glass. Modern. The graffiti tells me this isn’t an utopia. Good. (Good.) Ah, so you are here too, for a moment I had hope.

(Blood for the blood god, blood for ME.)

No matter in the multiverse I end up, I can’t seem to get rid of you. I’m slumped against the wall of alley. While behind me the building is brickwork, ahead its concrete. Why am I so weak? And you so… I pull the dagger stabbed into my chest, noticing now it’s a modern looking switchblade. Whatever form it had before, now it’s got a red hilt and deep dark blade, and yet it’s …pitiful?

(You’re back at level one and I am bound to your soul, insect.)

Wonderful. It has been decades since I’ve been a level one. But Tyrsfang wouldn’t lie about that. It also explains the slowness to my vision and the start of a persistent ache in my gums. I’m going dry.

(Gives us blood.)

“Of course, of course… Hm.” The words taste familiarly foreign on my lips. “American? Hells, it’s been a long time.”

There’s nothing in my pockets, so I get up and inspect the body I suspect my soul has been stitched into. (Don’t use me as a mirror.) If not an adult, almost there. My own cat-like blue eyes, just a bit more attention grabbing than necessary. It does help me land my catch, if you know what I mean. (I do.) Curly hair, generic enough. Skin tone is middling, tending towards white. An unfortunate mugging, likely killed this one.

I’ll make a better use out of this body than he had.

Sun in the sky, blast it all, tells me it’s morning. Hard to hunt then. And my shirt is ruined with blood, what a waste… Prestidigitation. Good enough. I mark the wall with the whiniest knife in existence, pardon, my powerful patron. Then I head deeper into the city.

After a while, it becomes obvious I’m in a poorer neighborhood. If this is a good one, then my chances are both better and not. It’s summer of the year 2009, AD I assume. This city has gangs, it’s name is probably Brockton, and I’m getting tired of the fucking sun. I return to the shade of the alleys as the sun peaks. I won’t be able to hunt properly until night falls. Until then, I can shoot at pigeons. The dumb birds don’t realize the predator lurking nearby. It’s just a question of being a bit careful not to be seen with my eldritch blasts.

Tyrsfang counts the meager xp mockingly. Well, I’d also rather level up by killing a bunch of pigeons, but it is what it is.

I notice my watcher as I walk through the alleys. They’re watching me from the low rooftops, but they’re good enough I can’t see more than a shadow flitting around.

(Proper prey, finally.) Calm down, calm down, let’s see exactly what we’re dealing with here first.

It should be child’s play to climb to the roofs after turning a corner. My body disagrees. I hate it. (ahahah) Laugh it up, but like this you’re not getting any food. There’s no funny quips to that. When I finally make it to the roof, I quickly spot her. Teenager in black clothes and a hockey mask across two buildings. She quickly spots me as well, and points a crossbow at me. An actual crossbow! Oh, I need one of those. Tyrsfang stings with jealousy at my side. Amiably, I smile, and wave. She’s already seen me popping eldritch blasts, so I keep my other hand in my pockets with my patron.

After a moment, she decides to approach. I watch, a bit more wary, as her form turns smoky mid jump. That looked like a form of Gaseous Form. But of course, regular people don’t dress up, arm themselves and stalk the streets to look for, presumably, crime. Which means this will either go spectacularly well or really wrong. (If it goes wrong, then I shall feast.) She enters my base range, solid, and I turn up my charm with whispered words and flourishing gestures.

She doesn’t even resist. Charm Person integrates into her mind with pathetic ease. She relaxes, approaching me now with a swagger and her weapon slung not for action but for aesthetics. Teenager indeed.

“Hey, predator.” She attempts to purr and I can’t help but laugh.

“Hello, hello… ahah. It’s been a while.” This is too easy. Like stabbing a baby. “Did you change your mask? At least tell me you’ve got yourself a new code name.”

She huffs. “Please, criminals will fucking rue the name of Shadow Stalker.” Adorable. “I did get a new mask. Put scum’s money to good use.”

We chat. I’m just an old friend who’s back in town after needing to leave for a while. The girl is a useful source. Biased, blind, more cowardly than she tries to appear, but she has the measure of this city. Brockton Bay. A wretched hive of scum and villainy. So many easy targets. So many deserving targets! I’ll kill whoever I need to, in a pinch, but it always feels so good to have the moral high ground.

(A feast.) Yes, a feast, a buffet of options! We have actual nazis, parading in broad daylight. Gangs galore, rapists and drug-addled criminals, murderers and mercenaries. Why, we’re spoiling for choice. I might actually not need to bait petty pickpockets for my entire time here, or to break into regular houses to kill entire families. Effortless, boring kills worth only the blood they offer.

Of course, law enforcement is always oh so very annoying when it comes to enacting justice for that poor family murdered in their sleep in the sanctity of their home.

“Wait, you hear that?” The shadow girl balances from one side to the other. “There’s an ABB checkpoint nearby, I was keeping an eye on it before I saw you. Let’s go!”

She’s excited, and frankly, so am I. Charm Person holds only for an hour. This whole time we’ve been chatting on the rooftops, I have been recovering my willpower and it feels almost there. It also means our time together is nearly over. “Lead the way.” I offer her.

A car’s trapped in a back street. Smooth ambush, one good obstacle and another vehicle behind. Five thugs decked in what I now know to be ABB colors, men and women, surround one man and one white girl. Well, one woman with a gun had the man at gunpoint, the four others are entertaining themselves with the easy meat. Five, armed. That’s a bit more than I can handle in my state. (Coward.) It’s how I keep you satisfied, isn’t it?

And besides… this is a civilized world. It does have certain advantages.

“Initiation?” I propose lowly to my temporary companion.

She sees the younger chick giddy among the older members too. Liquid courage probably helping, or something else. Then she gives me a look through her mask. “Do you have something to cover your face?”

I pull up the fabric I’ve tied around my neck. “You hit the gun-girl, I’ll handle the knife-man and then you join me?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet. I wanna see what they’ll do.” She’s referring to the victims. She’s told me enough in the last almost hour that I have an idea of her operational procedures. Unfortunately, I don’t have that sort of time.

“What a shame.” Tyrsfang buries itself into her jugular and carotid.

Shadow Stalker doesn’t have the time to think before I rip it back, opening a large gushing wound across her neck. She flickers into shadow but I pursue. Tyrsfang magical blade hunts her with glee, catching her in the belly once before she flops like a dying fish on the rooftop. Her rasps and wheezes are muffled by her mask. The arterial spray painted my face, and I lick a drop distractedly.

A final stab and her life flees the flesh. Tyrsfang vibrates with sheer satisfaction. It laughs in my mind and I have to stop myself from doing more than snigger. Liquid power fills my metaphorical veins. As expected of a parahuman, her life was worth a lot. Enough to level up. The potential buzzes through me.

“Get me Agathys’ Armor, will you Tyrs? And the Devil’s Sight plus…” I reach down and tug the mask away from my first kill but it’s secured. There’s a commotion from the backstreet, pleading and the like. If I want to capitalize on the thugs… “No, Masks and the Eldritch Mind, quick.”

My form blurs under the power of my newest invocation. A copy of Shadow Stalker now stands, taller than she was in life. (Don’t you need some water?) Shit, I do. Well then, Expeditious Retreat it is then. The spell buzzes in my blood as I pick up my new crossbow and jump.

Joining battle is the rush I needed. Eldritch Blast against the gunwoman as I fall, landing on the thug to the left of the red-headed girl. My leg snaps forward, kicking away the man from atop her. The retaliatory swipe from initiation girl is contemptuously easy to dodge. I push her away and pause, Tyrsfang in hand, crossbow in another.

The white victims. The witnesses.

I dodge again, then push forward into the thugs’ space. They back away, startled amateurs, and I pull up the shrieking girl from the floor and push her behind me. “Get away and run, now!” Fortunately, her father gets the message and grabs her. I stand in place, letting the enemy regroup as their targets get away.

“Fucker, you’re going to pay for that.” A one-eyed youngster spits, mouth bloody.

I chuckle darkly, and it reverberates in the alley. “What because now you’ve got the numerical advantage?” Despite being five against one, half of them are rightfully wary. Two are bruised from my attacks and the woman has a broken hand. “I just needed to get rid of the witnesses.”

The one bolt loaded into my crossbow hits the man who picked the gun, the one smart man, through his skull. The four others snap their heads to their comrade as he dies, grabbing weakly at his face and the foot of light metal buried through his brain. It’s laughable, so I laugh. I laugh as eldritch blasts leave my hands, painting the alley with bits of bone and brain. They’re so slow to my spell-enhanced self and Tyrsfang feasts, as blows cut through abdomens.

I let the girl start to run. I let her think she’ll escape, for ten seconds. I don’t have that much time before those two call the police. The girl’s limp body falls to the concrete. She’s only alive by pure chance, and the way I smashed her face, I doubt she’ll live without complications.

This is America, right? Think of it as… (Extreme American Football!) Oh, happier now, aren’t you? Well, yes, if a bit racist. She could be an immigrant!

I breathe out, content. Behind me, five bodies, if I count the one on the roof. Bah, cleanup time.

(Worth it.)

“I even got another level, true.”

I grab the girl and hurry back to the scene of the crime. The white van that belonged to the ambushers looks perfect, even if it’s been a while since I’ve driven. Decades… or so… I check the driver’s seat and the keys are still in the ignition. I pile the bodies on the back seats. Prestidigitation gets, what’s the word here, mileage? It cleans the pavement, removes odors and keeps the bodies cool on a summer day. It takes some effort to recover Shadow Stalker’s body, but the buildings aren’t that tall. From atop the dumpster to the fire-escapes, I get her and her equipment and it joins the rest.

I snag the loot these idiots were collecting as an afterthought. Waste not.

The van is quieter than I expect as I reverse out of the street, the face of the smart thug layered over my skin.

---

Spoiler

sometimes you just want to go apeshit, so you write about murderbros and their sentient blades! gonna play a bit with houserules here because yes, but not a lot.
Starting at lv1, now at lv3, Doyle here is a Vampire (ixalan variety) Hexblade Warlock!
Tyrsfang is the sentient curse blade that he took as his patron. he requires nothing but a lot of lives, and one sentient a month at the very least, plz.

 

MurderBinge for Two, Please
1.2 +++ just-in-case content warnings: threats of torture, murder, non-graphic human sacrifice
Prestidigitation was the only thing that kept the van from smelling like somebody had killed several people in here. Rightfully so.

I stop at the first empty parking lot I see, just to mark down my position and reorient myself. Fortunately, there are maps in the van’s glove compartment. I also take five minutes to search the bodies for useful stuff, remember I still have a live one, and pop the batteries from every cellphone. I was fairly sure that was a thing to do in modern worlds. It’s been a while.

It takes me about an hour, but I finally park the van on an empty road between two beaches. The path between the beaches has traffic, but the road going inland is much quieter. It’ll have to do. The still living girl (for now) was moaning and crying, half-delirious in the backseat.

“Okay, so any ideas you bloody knife?” (blood!) “I meant about the dead ones and you know that.” (The first rule has always been to not leave a body, maggot.) “Fair enough.”

Let’s see. I have five deads. Four of them are gangsters, so who knows if the guard… the police, right, will even be notified. I also have their wallets, which give me two driving licenses and other assorted papers. If I get something out of the girl, I could take one of their identities for a couple of days… Making the bodies disappear is probably the way to go. And I have a few options… (nerd)

Now Shadow Stalker, that’s a bit more problematic. She did the smart thing and didn’t carry identification. So I don’t know who she is or who’ll miss her. Black girl in a racist city, with her attitude… I don't think she has any superpowered partners, or even money. But she is young. In no way has she hit the age of majority, probably not even in my usual realms.

I’ve also already used her identity in front of the witnesses. I think I’m going to take a gamble here and keep the masked persona for a while. (assassin wannabe) Yeah.

So that leaves… “You.” The girl is gagged and tied up by her own clothing. She’s spent the last ten or so minutes watching me strip and clean the bodies while wearing the face of one of them. (her fear stinks) Yes, it can get stale. “You might still get out of here alive, if you cooperate. Don’t believe me, do you?”

There’s an aborted motion from her head.

“Well, I’d rather you cooperate, so I’ll explain the rules. I’m not planning on staying in Brockton Bay for more than two days.” That’s a lie, in my experience you should stick close to your arrival point. “So I don’t give a fuck about what you might tell your bosses, or even the cops, about… who you think I am.” My face shifts between the several visages. “It’s about… being a messenger to my legend. If nobody survives, how will anybody fear me?”

My teeth grow pointy, my ears elongate and my eyes inhuman. The girl is this close to pissing herself. I’d rather she didn’t. I’d have to clean the seats.

“So, if you misbehave and start making a racket, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you by crushing you piece by piece, starting with the small ones and working it up until I make your guts spill out of your belly.” I poke her there and she jumps, crying. “If you behave somewhat but get cheeky and evasive with me, I’ll just break your kneecaps, your elbows, and leave you tied up on the side of the road. You’ll be saved eventually, but it will be very unpleasant.” She could also die of exposure. “If you are a good girl and answer my questions calmly and truthfully, I’ll just leave you tied up out there, no broken bones whatsoever. You might even get free by yourself. Got it?”

She does get it. (You are a beautiful little liar.) Ah, true that. I won’t kill her because of her behavior now. But I am, technically speaking, a cultist. And I do need a human sacrifice.

It’s a very productive half hour. I ask about places to sell the van, the phones I’ve acquired. I ask about everything in that city and in this state but her own gang. “Why a-aren’t you asking abou–” “For you to lie to me?”

But, as always, sitting amidst corpses on the side of the road, every time a car passes by I feel my time growing short. “Thank you for cooperating.” I tell her, smiling, and approach. (remember I need her alive) I do.

So when my fangs sink into her shoulder, I am careful not to pull too much of her essence. The blood, the life, it’s revitalizing. I exult in the sensation as she grows limp and faints. I’ve been craving that, no lie.

(now can we do the important things?) “Sure.” I purr. I throw a few more prestidigitations around. “Start listing our options as I drive.”

Third level. There are quite a few options to choose from. Second level spells as well, giving me more flexibility. Of course, my pact boon as well. (blade, you disgrace) Please, I’m not an idiot.

Mask of Many Faces is too useful to let go of, but Eldritch Mind… I can have it later. For now, Improved Pact Weapon. (ahahah) Actually, wanna see if you can become a gun? (NO!) Just an idea, just an idea… (maybe) … Oh. Oh yes. I do have a gun right now too. This will be awesome.

Now spells, spells. Charm Person and the armor of Agathys are staying. For a modern city I don’t know… Flock of Familiars. I can kill people just fine, it’s everything else that’s been bothering me. Now Expeditious Retreat… I’d replace it with Darkness if I’d kept Devil Sight. Misty Step is the next best option, but the fourth level won't be long to come. Shatter then.

The map is spread over the dashboard as I drive inland. There are several parks and marsh areas around. Unfortunately, it’s also summer. There’s people everywhere, having hikes. (easy prey) Disgusting. Eventually, I find a quiet enough parking space in one of those and start getting my things in order for tonight.

Before anything, I cast my new familiar spell. A cat, a rat and a raven are formed from magic and their black forms, fey and wild, peer at me. “You, scout for a good place to make my sacrifice and another to get rid of the bodies. You both, keep an eye on the perimeter.”

My sacrifice is unconscious and will remain as such. The bodies I need to get rid of are piled up on the ground. They’re not leaking (yet). Shadow Stalker, I start preparing. I’ll leave her in a dumpster in the city proper. There’s a perfect scapegoat for it, and all I need is to carve a racist message.

The rest of the loot is divied up. I have half a dozen knives, a pair of knuckle dusters and one gun. There are two extra magazines in the glove compartment. Wallets aren’t poor at all, particularly not the one they stole from the man I ‘saved’. Several hundred dollars, which feels cheap when I usually get paid in hundreds of gold at the minimum. Then there’s random things, most of which I throw into the garbage bin. I keep the porn mags. Most of the SIM cards for the phones are useless, but the girl did give me her own pin number.

I switch the card to the best phone and turn it on. It’s a busy minute turning off all notifications and tracking. I use her meager internet, shitty as fuck where I am, to look up racially motivated murders in Brockton Bay. Tyrsfang dances in my hand.

It’s past mid-afternoon when the raven calls to me telepathically. Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling up on a disused road leading to a ruined property for sale. I grab the sacrifice and lock the car behind me. The bodies are guarded by the cat, behind a cluster of trees nearby. My little friendly shadow is rolled up in a stolen tarp, set aside. I just don’t want their stink to devalue my vehicle.

Tyrsfang sings through the air as I twirl it.

The ritual will take several hours. Carving the circles, lighting the fires. Binding the handgun as my pact weapon for the first step. Tyrsfang's own ritual, to bind my pact weapon as its own physical form, which will require the girl's bone, heart and blood.

Then, there's a pond for disposal of remains.

Nine times called and bound in blood and hair. The gun lies disassembled on a flat rock in front of me. Thank you internet, for how-to guides and free diagrams. When it finally clicks, hours later, the Rock Island Armory .45 hums beneath my skin. It’s clean like it’s never been, the metal alternatively black or dark red that blend too well into shadows. The grooved grip shifts under close scrutiny, like it’s crawling away from the norms of its world. Which it is.

I chamber a round and fire at the water. Blam, it carves a path straight through. I summon and dismiss it at will. It wasn’t a great gun before, and I can certainly update it later, but for what I’m used to it’s better than a crossbow. (Good damage, so much faster. Quick, let’s reenact a school shooting!) Thoughts for later, baby. (Adopting the local slang, maggot?) There’s a pinch as Tyrsfang make me bleed. “Sorry, sorry. How about numbers, do you have them?”

(2 to 12, 8 shots) Really, it’s half-abstraction, half-magic bullshit. 2d6 is good. Haven’t updated my own HP either. (long rest bread-brain)

“The sooner I’m done binding you to this, the sooner we can blow the corpses to bits,” Corpses that my familiars have been steadily gnawing and burying away. No identifiable bits for the police, no sir. “And get back to the city.”

The sacrifice is insensate and anemic. It makes it easier to carve the required symbols and start the chanting. Nothing too spectacular. Tysfang is a spirit that enjoys actions far more than words or symbolism. I do need to feed it a soul every month, and carving ominous symbols and phrases doesn’t do much, although he doesn’t complain when I do. (it’s the aesthetics of being feared)

My patron’s presence shifts fully from the form he was occupying to myself. Power. Raw bloodlust that makes my gums ache and salivate. Levels? What are those but abstractions of what little potential I can grasp? We are one and we (HUNGER—

Well, when I come to, there’s a bloody new addition to my weapon. In front of the trigger, the gun’s frame has shifted and grown to include a blade that extends a few inches past the barrel. It glints with malevolence.

Of the girl… well, there’s less to get rid of.

I twirl the new extension of my self and will. A bullet shaped eldritch blast shoots out of the barrel with the right grip and the right words.

Perfection.

When I collapse on the motel room’s bed, there’s five corpses blasted into bits resting with the fishies somewhere northwest, and soon the police will have another ‘dead black teen stuffed in a dumpster by neonazis’ case. All in all, a productive day.

---

Spoiler

delivered thesis number 1. wrote that bitch in a week and a half. spent the ensuing week recovering sleep. now thesis 2 is looming over my shoulder and grinning evilly. why did I decide my low-effort live involved getting two masters in a year?

 

MurderBinge for Two, Please
1.3 +++ just-in-case content warnings: plans for violence and murder against religious minorities and majorities
The television plays the news quietly in the background. I have about three hours before I have to vacate the room.

On the wobbly coffee table, I spread out my useful items. I sold the van in a garage recommended to me by… actually, I never caught the girl’s name. She also didn’t have an id. Regardless, some fast-talking while wearing the owner’s face, a Song Wen, and the other obviously-connected man had bought me the van for a little over one gran. Grand? Hm, american slang.

Song Wen is an identity I am going to have to discard. People are going to ask about either him or the van or anything. I Prestidigitate away my fingerprints and burn his card with a lighter. The smoke detectors aren’t working and the window is open, it’s fine.

I’m remembering so much about the modern world the more I exist in it. My original soul definitely came from one of these.

(obvious) Shush.

The other two ids, also drivers licenses, could be useful if used sparingly. Sooner or later this man and woman, Fan Peng and Qian Xia, will be declared missing. Probably. If they have relatives or friends, those will be on the lookout. The cops are less of a possibility, from what I understand of this city’s situation. So, to use in non-ABB areas if I need to quickly give a fake identification. Buying beer, for example.

Mask of Many Faces is being, like Prestidigitation, a very useful tool.

Then I have about $1500, two .45 caliber magazines, several lighters and a dozen cigarette packs, and about three distincts changes of clothes in two duffel bags. And assorted magazines, pens, pencils and paper maps. Oh, mask, black cape and my new backup crossbow with a handful of bolts.

“Hm, how much ‘til level four?” (2225) “Shiiit.” I would have to kill over two hundred critters. Homeless or random people are included by the way. Killing gang members will cut that down to about… fifty plus. “No way I can do it without calling too much attention to myself. Shadow Stalker was the one who got me the good xp yesterday.” (She was worth… more.) “The powers, I’m guessing.”

Discounting magic, what do we have that gives us more? XP is such bullshit. Also very much not calibrated for a modern world. Priests are worth 450, supposedly.

Objective 1: A church.

(police looking for religiously motivated serial killer!) Would they be wrong? (not!)

But mundane animals also get fun returns. Horses of all sorts are worth more than the basic human life. Cows, found plentifully in the US, are worth 50. Elephants are worth more than Shadow Stalker. I’d only need to kill two, but zoos are definitely too attention-grabbing.

Objective 2: A farm. (boring)

It’s going to get tough the stronger I get. Unless I find a way to gather and kill massive amounts of animals in one spell, humans will plain be more effective. And even then, I’m talking about humans that aren’t easily disappeared like the homeless. How much to level 12, in total? (185 thousand, 660 thousand to epic)

That’s 66000 people. A sizable city’s worth. Might as well start putting up advertisements for the local band of lunatics, what’s the name, Slaughterhouse Something? Well, unfortunately, I’m nowhere near tough enough for that sort of renown. I’m a warlock, but in a superhero world even barbarians would have problems. I’m 24 hit points. I can survive getting shot twice, thrice with luck. At my apogee, how much would that be?

(at this rate, 143 times)

So when I become a minor god walking… Getting sprayed by a machine gun could still end me. That’s before getting into any of the bullshit that this world has. Alexandria, Legend, fucking Eidolon… the local Tarrasques, that happen to come in three different varieties!

So, can’t make good progress in the shadows… but the light is too damn strong.

I almost hesitate to ask. “How much would we receive, if we went non-lethal?”

Tyrsfang’s displeasure is obvious. I don’t cry blood on the regular. It hurts appropriately, but even my patron must understand our situation because it soon passes. We can get xp without killing, theoretically. I never had to do it. Objectively and obviously beating a foe in battle can grant advancement, but from what I understood, all those years ago, the nature of our soul and pact makes it so much less it’s laughable.

(One fourth.)

I blink, cleaning my face with the back of my hand. I don’t dare to use magic just yet. “That’s… better than I was expecting?”

(The battle must be fought and the foe vanquished with certainty. I will require more sacrifices in return.)

“Our pact in murder, I do not forget nor do I object. Tyrsfang of the Hungry Death thrice I swore and thricefold I’ve shown… I’ll deliver the deaths owed.”

The hex on my soul hums pleasantly. (It is in accord. But I want a priest in return. Two priests.)

I laugh. “We can depopulate the churches and shrines and temples. It’ll give us another identity to mislead for a while.” One fourth is better than nothing, but I don’t relish the thought of being powerless for that long. “We can establish a vigilante face to deal with the better angels of this city without fearing persecution and reliably gain something from fight, money and xp. In the shadows, we shall serve death and feast.”

It’s a plan we both like.

We start with research. Democraties, gotta love them for the public libraries. After a small detour to pawn off my trophy cellphones and get my own equipment, I stick my bag in the library’s lockers. There’s a metal detector just before the entrance to the reading zone, and private security. Modern democraties, gotta hate them for their constant surveillance.

There’s the distinct feeling that some arcane libraries have better ‘informatics’. Not organization systems, from the debates I’ve been privy to, but who cares about that. What I need is the local rumor mill, obviously online, an apartment to rent and a map of religious institutions.

Technomagic would be really useful right now. I only remember that particular branch of the arcane as I sit in front of a dirty keyboard padlocked to the desk.

Navigating the information-sphere of this world, the internet… is challenging. Surely it makes sense to the natives, but the usability isn’t aimed at the out-of-context population or youngsters. No, I shouldn’t apply wizard standards to a magic-less population. The elderly mayhaps? Finding the internet browser amidst a set of unfamiliar icons, then guessing which… bookmark? was a search engine, then having to go around reading about two dozen topics just to get context…

(my non-physical brain)

It’s past lunch time when we disconnect, our recently purchased notebook many pages fuller. A list of locations, names and a sketched map will contribute to tonight’s hunt. With that, it’s time to move on to more familiar materials. Newspapers and phonebooks. But first, a trip down the street to get a bite in. (?) Not that sort of bite, unfortunately.

It’s a productive day, all in all. Not unexpectedly, our previous sources had somewhat inflated the role of the ABB gang, was it? Their leader is notorious and showy, but the amount of gang warfare reported indicates that his takeover of the ethnic enterprises in this city is an ongoing thing. Lots of new blood trying to prove themselves, lots of old blood with connections playing it a variety of ways: safe, ambitious, spiteful.

Of course, the fact that it’s summer helps with the whole caped-crusader games this place has going on.

Then the established bastards of the more affluent sectors, the racists protecting their territory from ‘barbarians’, were taking a hands-off approach. Lots of image building, not a lot of direct intervention. Let them fight, or something to that effect. (division?) I was thinking that too, something internal could be going on.

Lots of small names, literally a dozen full. Every neighborhood has its racketeers, but they don’t appear a lot in the actual paper news. Mostly bands of thieves, but a couple of them appear to have religious connections. It’s hard to tell.

And yet, (the common denominator) Yes, that. Parahumans, as they call them here. Interesting. Priority targets, see-and-run, snacks on legs, there’s a lot I could call them. Both criminals and ‘heroes’ cluster around them. Not unexpected.

There’s even a group that took off the masks… (fools) helpful fools. I think I’ll call them… Emergency Rations.

But for now, there’s a few temples to scout out. A couple of synagogues to vandalize. Hmm, what else? Oh right, acquiring a moderately faster method of transportation.

We end up getting a bicycle. (ahahah) Oh, thou can laugh, but this thing is cheap, repairable, doesn’t have a license plate, it’s nearly untraceable, and I can just throw it away into any dumpster and nobody would give a flying fuck. Not to mention it’s far harder for me to get tired, unlike humans.

Look at me, a creature of bloodshed and horror, pedaling innocently through a city full of prey. It’s hilarious to have this many helpless little lambs looking at me like I’m the helpless one! Oh, just thinking about it… ‘Lost are the lambs and must be guided to the altar as God decreed!’ I will write this down somewhere when I finally kill those priests. No, actually, I’ll do one of those letters made from clippings of magazines and newspapers. Set the serial killer mood properly. Maybe I should do a couple of decapitations… or crucifictions.

(plagiarism) Whatever. (you are getting ahead of yourself) Yes, yes, I know.

Most of the churches in this town are, naturally, in the old zones and the white zones. Not as fortified as expected. I mentally mark down the clergy houses attached to them. (it’s called a buffet)

Now the synagogue, the only one remaining in this town, now that’s a fortress. Remarkably, not as damaged as it could be. The Empire, as they like to call themselves, probably know it’s too much of an easy target. Too watched, I can see several cameras all around, and private guards. Their uninitiated likely do hit and run egg-ings and graffiti, I can see those traces. Those more bold spring the trap, maybe get caught. And if a show of force is ever needed, well, the building’s not going anywhere.

Which is exactly why I’m going to do it.

I’m going to send all the flies on this turd of a city flying around in a momentary panic. Everybody is going to point the finger at the Empire. The Empire’s going to point fingers and pat themselves on the back with the other hand. And nobody’s going to be expecting the dead bodies the next day.

Switch targets, keep them guessing. Chaos in the religious community is chaos in the streets. Retaliatory strikes against the assumed guilty. War on the streets if things get really spicy. A few new parahumans with individualist streaks. A body slipping into routine shootouts.

And, amidst everything, the homeless community is left even more bereaved.

I am going to turn this city upside down. I’m going to get them to call in the army. And when the crackdown starts, I’ll be standing with the caped angels, laughing to myself.

---

Spoiler

well, yes. a psychopath is going to commit apparent hate-crimes to frame a white supremacist organization. this is not good, but this is also a fuck everything, deadpool kills x style of story.

 

Spoiler: notes on canon and deafness

I honestly don't remember half of CG and just about... 5% of R2. But like, screw it.
Also, I did not consult as much as I could about deaf people and deafness. Errors and misunderstanding likely abound. Also, Britannia is horrible to everybody, very much including the people with special/different needs, and even Ruben Ashford is prone to certain ingrained prejudices.

---

Soundless, Part 1.​

When the dean of Ashford Academy reviewed his meetings for the day, he did notice the block of time earmarked for a meeting about a potential new student enrolling. It wasn’t uncommon for various nobles to wish to talk with him before they enrolled their children at his institution. Or for other worried parents to look for assurances. He did always prefer the second type of meeting. What had called his attention was how quickly the meeting had been scheduled; days only.

He took a note of who he’d be meeting. Claudio Schayes, who wished to know the academy better before enrolling his cousin. Curiously, the file of said cousin was missing. Not alarming, secretiveness was the pastime of half the Britannians he knew.

Now, the man himself was escorted into his office and greeted him with a smile. “Dean Ashford, a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Mr. Schayes. Although,” he had noticed from the way the young man stood and moved almost immediately, “unfortunately, I have not been informed of your rank.” On purpose, for sure.

“Colonel.” The suddenly much more dangerous man in front of him offered him a thin smile. “Currently on leave, although I will be transferring to Area 11 in the next few days.”

“I see.” He indicated a chair for his guest and sat at his solid desk, arranging his papers as he thought. “You must have hurried from your assignment to arrive in Area 11 a week before the Viceroy.” The haste was now understandable. “Ashford Academy prizes itself in its discretion and security. We understand that our students are precious”, to avoid saying vulnerable, “and sometimes, rules have to bend a little for children to get the best education they are afforded to. Without… outside factors.”

It was no issue if certain dates on official documents had to be changed to ensure a young person could go to school without their family connections mucking everything up. Be it to nobility or the military. In the wake of His Highness’ murder and the renewed terrorist activity, this was to be expected. A slew of different military and governmental workers would be following, and anticipating, their new Viceroy into Area 11.

And Cornelia Li Britannia prized very different qualities in her retainers.

For the Colonel’s cousin, Ruben Ashford was willing to bet they might not even be related in truth.

“Right to the heart of the matter, Mr. Ashford.” Colonel, if not Sir Schayes, nodded. “My father had nothing but praise for your work. I’m glad to see you are the same kind of man he described you as.”

Which was funny, because Ruben Ashford had never met any Schayes before. “Indeed? I’m afraid that in my old age acquaintances are ever more difficult to remember. Your father…?”

“General Andreas Darlton.”

And well, did that not answer quite a few questions? It took all of Ruben’s considerable political skills to not let his shock and alarm show on his face. But he quickly calmed himself. Andreas Darlton was known in certain circles for adopting several promising young men and women into his family, to circumvent the rigid and unforgiving system. Claudio Schayes Darlton was merely one of them, and despite his age, he was very unlikely to have known certain elements that Ruben kept close at hand.

“I am honored that General Darlton still remembers me.” He chuckled. “Tell me, how is young Sir Andreas? I hear only of his worldly exploits in Area 11.”

No, he was probably here for the actual reason he stated. To enroll a student. Either from his own birth family or from the family of one of his siblings. In that regard, Ashford Academy was the best place in Area 11 for anybody not given to military affairs.

“Father is well. He will be following Her Highness here after finishing with establishing Area 18.”

“Area 18 already? My… Remarkably fast.” Nothing could stop Britannia, now could it? He shook his head. “Well, enough reminiscing. Shall we move on to more pressing business?”

“Yes.” Claudio nodded, his military countenance in full display. “There’s no way to hide it, so I’ll be direct. We wish to enroll a… close friend of the family at Ashford Academy. We would usually prefer that she continue her education privately, by tutors, or at a less known establishment.” Now, one of the dean’s eyebrows arched, almost urging him to continue. “However, the infrastructure and personnel in Area 11 is, bluntly put, insufficient, lacking in security and professionalism. Ashford Academy is the better choice.”

Ruben Ashford nodded. “I would be more glad to be compared so favorably but, well, as you have already been able to assess… things have not been the best in this corner of the Empire.”

The young man grunted, but did not fluster at the slight critique against late Clovis. Good.

“Yes. Aside from that, well.” And he paused. “Ashford Academy came to our attention for a particular policy you mention… ‘to provide all the means necessary for our students to achieve their full potential, irrespective of the obstacles in their path’, followed by a clear picture of one of your wheelchair-accessible entrances.”

“Oh.” Ashford’s face was a study in polite interest. “Is that so?”

The silence was heavy for a few seconds as both men studied each other. Finally, it was Darlton that broke it. “My cousin… she has a few requirements…”

“We understand that our interpretations of the world are not universal but… I’m sure you are aware of my family’s history before… that abominable incident. And in its aftermath, I was forced to reconsider how certain ideas might impact those I was responsible for.” The old man’s smile softened almost grandfatherly. “Ashford is a safe place. For all the good it did, my Academy was designed for everybody to be able to attend it and profit from a full education. From the building to the staff, I spared no expense.”

He was rewarded by the noticeable loosening in the young man’s shoulders. What a time to be reminded of his own age. “That is… comforting to hear. Thank you, Dean Ashford.”

“It is but the truth. But perhaps I might be able to set your worries at ease if I knew the details of what your cousin needs.”

He nodded. “Of course. Tina is deaf. Her hearing was completely damaged in an accident several years ago. Effectively mute as well. While she is perfectly capable of speech, she does not use so, merely as a matter of preference. She can read lips however. She’s also fluent in sign language.” His eyes were judging as he stated, “She is fully capable otherwise and has kept abreast of her age peers in all scholarly matters.”

“I do not doubt so.” But Ruben was already thinking about his staff. The fact that they had managed to teach a young girl sign language was more impressive than anything else. Ruben didn’t believe he had anybody on hand fluent in the language.

The fact was, Britannia didn’t accommodate for anything. Braille was a french invention, and when he had invested time and money into the topic, he had also discovered the fascinating world of sign languages. Naturally occurring languages developed by those who could not hear or speak. Once upon a time, Britannia had possessed its own burgeoning sign language.

After Darwin? If books in braille had burned, so had those about Britannian Sign Languages. Certainly unofficially, somewhere, the deaf existed and ‘spoke’. If nothing else, the military churned out many ‘failures’, from those mutilated to those hard of hearing from artillery shelling. Despite what the nobles liked to believe, the lower classes adapted and evolved better than those decrepit snakes. However, schooling for the deaf did not exist in Britannia. Deaf-dumb-stupid. Why bother teaching the deaf? Typical. What little did exist was private, like Ashford, and focussed on disguising deafness. He could tell the young girl must have had some education of the sort from the skills described.

“I do believe we can ensure a proper education for your cousin. Written evaluations, class transcriptions, full access to written resources. I will make sure her teachers take care to facilitate lip-reading and do not interrogate her in class… If I may, which sign language does she know? I do believe we may have somebody with a passing knowledge of french sign language, but I can make inquiries among my professional circles.”

On they went, back and forth, discussing details. Claudio Darlton would much prefer that his ‘cousin’ did not attend classes with the rest of Ashford’s students. His naturally protective nature was inflamed. Easily understandable, considering Britannian teenagers. He would however, concede that it would be both attention-grabbing and difficult to impose onto an isolated, eager young woman. Ruben Ashford gathered the crumbs provided, building in his head the portrait of a kind, energetic teenager, quiet… if the pun could be pardoned, but hiding a strong personality. The profile of Justina Darlton ignored her circumstances, painting her as just another student to be welcomed at Ashford Academy. It would be nice, if his instincts weren’t constantly reminding him of a crucial factor.

Their allotted time was dwindling and still… Claudio Darlton had not said everything. He fidgeted. He was reticent. He observed Ruben oh so very carefully after giving him Justina’s doctored file.

What was it?

As they sat in silence,most matters taken care of, it came to the fore.

“Dean Ashford…” The young man started, brow furrowed. “There is… one last thing. A consideration, taking into account… your past acquaintance with our superior, Her Highness Cornelia, and her family.” His gloved fingers tapped a short, nervous rhythm on his chair’s stuffed arm. “Some things are just better shown. I trust,” he said as he unfolded a photograph from a pocket, “that you will understand the gravity of the situation

Ruben took the proffered image, already steeling himself for several scenarios, and saw a pair of young women, flanked on both sides by two men. Sir Gilford and Sir Darlton, he recognized peripherally. His eyes were naturally attracted by the tall, warrior-goddess between them. Purple hair disheveled, a custom piloting suit hugging her broad shoulders and more womanly attributes, Cornelia li Britannia was every inch the deadly valkyrie. And a smile he had not seen in the news that depicted her, for over a decade, rested gently on her lips, crinkling the corners of her eyes. Her arm hugged close to her a familiar younger woman, light-haired and–

He audibly sucked in a breath as he realized whose image he was beholding.

Wavy hair –dyed, of course!– and facial structure –not altered by photographic manipulation, here– all aside, who would ever mistake those purple eyes for anything but the mark of royalty?

He groped around for support as he realized what he had brought down on this refuge.

Justina. As: Euphemia Ursula Justicia li Britannia.

---

Spoiler

guess who hyperfixated on this old show they don't even particularly like, like... dude, so many girls killed for man-pain. Poor Euphy. yeah, guess who my favorite character was...

 

[10]
“Tulle, good morning.” Korina stepped up to the counter in the Pantheon. It was quite early in the morning. Eina wasn’t alone. A tall blonde elf in good quality leathers, a bow affixed upon his back, stood next to her with his arms crossed.

“Good morning Korina.” The half-elf gave her a professional smile. “Let me introduce you. This is Luvis Lilix of Modi familia.”

Korina couldn’t help the slight raising of her eyebrows. Still, the elf did not appear much more constipated than most elves did. “Ah. I see. How can I be of service?”

“You’ve already been of great help to our familia.” The elf replied seriously. “In the name of God Modi and our familia, I wish to thank you for returning our comrade to us.” He bowed just a bit at the waist.

She wasn’t sure what to answer. You are welcome? So she kept silent and nodded.

“We went to the fifth to recover our comrade’s belongings.” Lilix took an object wrapped in cloth and gave it towards Korina. “Here, this belongs to you.”

Gently, the weretiger pushed aside the cloth to reveal a War Shadow’s finger-blade, a drop item from the very monster she had defeated the day before. “The shadow I killed didn’t drop anything…”

The elf gave her an appraising look. “Consider it a token of our thanks. Not many adventurers would bring back a dead man. You didn’t even take Mylus’ magic stones, Ganesha found his pack undisturbed.”

Korina sighed. The whole thing had weird feelings for her, because, situation permitting otherwise, she might have taken a stone or two. She was no saint, and hurting for money on most days. It just happened that recovering Mylus’ body in a monster-infested region at the edge of her abilities took priority over anything else. So, she just said, “I'm in no position to refuse. I’m glad I could give you closure, regardless.”

They exchanged a few more formalities, before the other adventurer left.

“Did he just ask you out?” Korina turned to Eina, who was wearing a ceramic smile. Her advisor’s only response was a deep, tired sigh. “Right. Shall we?”

Inside, sitting rather than standing, Eina returned to her normal professionalism and started grilling her adventurer for updates. Korina wasn’t bothered to share. If anything, Tulle could be counted on to not gossip. Her ears had caught several snippets that considered her quite the ‘hard-ass’.

“You’re unusually distracted.” The half-elf said.

“Apologies.” Korina gave her a helpless smile. “ It’s the first of these I’ve been able to hold on to, rather than sell.”

“Are you not going to sell it? It’s going for around… a little bit over a thousand nowadays. It’s not an inconsequential sum.” Drop items were precious. Blades like these didn’t even compare to rarer and more precious items with alchemical properties.

“Honestly, it feels a bit wrong to just sell it. If it was monetarily that they wanted to compensate me, they would have just paid me in valis.” She turned the blade over her hands. The shadow’s fingers were all blades, straight and sharp on both ends. Like a dagger that had no hilt. Yet. “And I am in need of a new knife…”

“Are you giving it to Mr. Crozzo to turn into a weapon?”

“No. I think this one is simple enough that I can handle it myself.” She had… almost all the tools she would need. For a small item like this, she knew how to build a makeshift forge. The more she thought about it, the more ideas she had. “Actually, would you mind terribly holding onto this for me? Just until I return from the dungeon.”

The advisor blinked. “Well, I suppose it’s not a problem if it’s just this one thing… We have lockers available at Babel, you realize?”

Korina couldn’t afford those, for all that they were secure. “Just this once. I’ll return earlier than usual.”

Eina frowned. “I thought you were going to take it easy today? The psychological impact of yesterday isn’t to be taken that lightly.”

Korina thought back to the status update Hestia had given her that morning.

Strength I.94…H.105 Endurance H.107…111 Dexterity H.105…112 Agility I.72…79 Magic H.169…186

“My abilities had a large jump, it will be fine down to the fourth. I’ll be eager to return as well, so don’t worry too much.” She put down the drop item and slid it towards her advisor. “Got to go now tho. I’ll see you later!”

***
Hestia returned to a fire in the backyard. The scent of fuel burning, the wood dust in the air and the harsh sounds of metal hitting metal. A forge was just a different type of hearth in the end. How nostalgic! It had been a while since she had seen a forge at work, for all that she’d resided with the goddess of smiths herself.

A pep in her step, she wandered out back to see what her child was up to now.

Korina had constructed her own little pit forge. A hole in the ground, limited by broken masonry, upon which charcoal had been dumped into and ignited. “Bought an old bellows to keep it going.” She said as she pumped the rusty and loud tool. “Bought a lot of stuff actually.” Tongs, a chisel, resin… “Sorry, you’re gonna have to dig into the savings for today’s food. I’ll repay the bank tomorrow.”

“That’s fine!” Hestia waved it off. “Come on, tell me what you’re making!”

Korina told her of the morning’s encounter. “War Shadow’s Blades are sharp enough on their own. If I was a better smith, heck, a smith at all, I’d do something better with them, maybe. I’m just gonna turn the last mmm third of the blade into a tang. Unedge it, there’s a name for it…. Shape it back into a square-ish thing, then draw it out. It’ll be a thinner thang than the blade, but it’ll let me keep a better blade length.”

She showed Hestia a sketch she’d made. The full drop item fit into her hand, but left only four to five fingers of cutting edge. After shaping the tang, she would make a handle out of a nice wooden dowel. If everything was fit properly, then the last remaining bit of the tang would be peened in.

“And voilá. A knife. Won’t even have to do the hard part of shaping the blade.”

“You’ve got more than one thing on the forge tho.” Hestia had remarked.

“Practice pieces from those old rusty things you got me.” Korina smiled at her wide and bright, showing her usually hidden canines. “Need to get a feel about hitting the metal. It is the first time I’ve done this. Books alone won’t tell me how to do it.”

“That’s right, you learned smithing by reading… dork.” The goddess teased.

“Learned is– huff” Korina pulled out one of her practice pieces with the tongs. “An overestimation. I learned about it, just. Plus,” she spoke around the clinking of the hammer on metal, “I’m an adventurer now. Having H-rank strength and endurance changes completely how my body can handle things. I’m not even wearing gloves.” She was, in fact, only wearing a sleeveless threadbare undershirt. “Oh, dexterity too now that I think about it.”

Hestia tilted her head, observing her child. She compared her to the thin weretiger whose expression was always shuttered. Well-defined arms held the hammer as the weretiger worked on the yellow-hot metal in front of her. A hint of smile curled her lips despite the focussed frown on her face. “I’m glad you’re doing better Korina.”

“Hm, whaddaya mean?” Was her distracted reply.

She hadn’t even noticed she had rambled about metal and runes and plans for ten full minutes, had she? “Nothing. I’ll take care of dinner then. See you in a bit!”

“Hmr…” Korina gave a parting grunt.

She’d spent a good portion of her afternoon running between places to buy tools, places to buy materials, and bookstores. Hestia had scouted them out beforehand. It had been one of her familia chores. Skimming over books, without buying them, had only doubled her assessment that she had only a barebones knowledge of the forge. This first work of hers was likely going to be barely usable. For one, she wasn’t going to heat-treat it.

Drop-items from dungeon monsters contained rare mineral and organic elements. At least partly magic, the strange structure of kobold nails and goblin fangs she had already worked with was an example of organic materials. War shadow blades, usually hidden beneath the monsters’ dark liquid-like body, were of the mineral variety, incorporating minuscule amounts of adamantite in their makeup. Of course, this made what little knowledge Korina had of heat-treatment useless, as she had only studied iron and steel.

She was betting on the material’s natural properties to not only shine without additional work, but to also resist the manipulations she was subjecting the blade to. She only had one try to boot.

She worked through the evening. As she waited for the charcoal fire to heat the bit of the blade to the desired color, she worked and experimented with the bits of iron and steel Hestia had scavenged for her. Rough shapes were formed beneath her hammer. Scales broke off and sparks flew into her hands.

Forging her blade’s tang was a much more careful process. Patiently, she killed the edge at one third of its full length and drew the metal into a longer, rectangular shape. She compared it to her hand, until she was satisfied, and to the fire it returned. The next step would require it to be orange-hot. The handle had already been roughly formed. She shaved a bit of its length, chiseled in the center hole and grabbed her gloves. She’d seen this done before, it couldn’t be too hard to ram a tang through a bit of wood.

Korina slipped and cut herself. A blade and a handle christened with a good amount of blood.

Fitting, she supposed. Before she joined the pieces completely, the burned hole traversing the wood, she had the runework to do. The surface of the tang was filed flat and there, she sketched in her mind the runes her blade would incorporate. No magic would be used. This wasn’t a weapon that would use her spell, like a proper so-called magic sword. She wanted to enhance its properties, although if the spell itself was ever channeled through this blade, she was sure it would hold up much better than a regular object.

The blade was made for Black. For taking, for killing, for ambushing and for bleeding.

No magic could be used. Mortalitas was too strong and too capricious.

Carefully, slowly, bent over an anvil, she chiseled in the straight lines of power.

The forge was almost cold when she finished. The bellows pumped again, the coals glowed red-hot again. The resin she’d bought into the handle. The tang back into the fire.

“Something’s missing…” She eyed the blade, dead to her limited senses. “No life… of course. Sacrifice.”

In the haze of making, she discarded the tongs to the ground and grabbed the blade with her bare hands. The edge cut into the flash of her palm. Blood flowed down the burning metal, into grooves meant to fix magic, and none dripped to the ground.

***
Four weeks an adventurer. It was how long it had taken Korina to repay the Guild for her starting equipment. She hummed to herself as she considered herself. Only the chestplate and greaves remained; on her waist, half of a sword was kept inside its sheath. Still, she mused as she cut open a giant frog, she would say that she finally felt settled as an adventurer proper.

Standing nearby, Welf guarded their flanks. She was sure he had noticed by now that she tired more easily as they climbed back to the surface. He had yet to say anything about it. “Done.” She climbed to her feet and they resumed their way home.

Together, they walked to the Guild to trade in their stones and drops. This week had been a money gathering week for Korina. She had the feeling the last week of most months would be like that. She didn’t like leaving things for last minute, but it seemed that the tendency to feel the deadlines did improve her concentration. Taxes were coming up, a dinner out, materials for next month… it hurt the creative spirit.

“We’re getting an average day’s worth now,” Welf said, counting the ten-thousand vals they’d been paid. Even taking just a fifth, Korina wasn’t losing her time’s worth. “Our party’s finally getting good. I think that we could go down to the Eighth next week.”

Korina nodded. “I’ll trust your judgment, but maybe on the second day. I’d like to be prepared.” Her ears perked up. “By the way, my goddess might have already talked to yours, but we were seeing if it would be possible to eat out together tomorrow.”

“Hu, really?” The smith scratched his neck. “I guess I keep forgettin’ that Lady Hestia is friends with Lady Hephaestus…”

“We’d be included to.” Korina shook her head, ignoring Welf’s sudden sputtering. “Either you or whoever your goddess would rather take.”

“Ghh, gotta be kiddin’ me! Your familia’s small so you get to have your goddess all for yourself, but Hephaestus’ is big! My goddess’ not going to take me e-eating out, n-not me of all people.”

The weretigress side-eyed the flustered smith. She rolled her eyes. “Who knows.” “I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen!” “Well, we don’t even know if it’s going to pan out. It’s pretty short notice.”

They chatted only a bit more before parting. Tomorrow was the last day of the month. Only five days since carrying her first dead body. Welf had agreed to reschedule their days together, so she would work with him the following day as well. She had to prepare, pass by the Blue Pharmacy, re-check all of her equipment… that and see if her and Hestia still had enough time to buy themselves some clothes.

Still, she felt… pleased. With a chuff, she went off.

---

Spoiler

took me so long to just find something to finish the chapter with. good knife, will come up. had fun doing research, where do i sign up for blacksmithing classes now...

 

[11]
Hestia was waiting for her on their street. The temple, their home, loomed in the quickly darkening sky. Korina’s gauntlets got a quick pass with a wet cloth, but she was never too covered in blood when she returned from the dungeon as a supporter. Extraneous equipment left inside the stairway, they hurried to join the rapidly growing crowds on West Main.

From there, they walked outwards and turned on the Western-Down Street. The large way traveled south from West Main, until it ended in the main waterway that crossed Orario. The city’s trading center was built on the southwestern quarter, where respectable rivers traversed through the walls, bringing with it goods and commerce. And occasionally, monsters. Here, warehouses and markets dominated. The trade was outwardly focused. Selling to outsiders, eager to resell Orario’s riches far away. Or bringing goods that couldn’t be found in the dungeon, from spices and foods of distant lands to crafts and knowledge refined elsewhere.

It also tended to be cheaper. Orario’s shops sold to adventurers. They used materials from the dungeon. In short, if one wanted normal things, this was the place.

"So." "So." The goddess and her child nodded as one. "Shopping." "Shopping!"

A hand fell on Hestia’s shoulder, heavy with responsibility. Half-lidded cat eyes stared deep into hers as the mortal bent down, just so her intent could be truly felt. Hestia whined. Fine. Yes, they were poor, yes, she had to restrain herself, yes, practicality was king… she knew that! It didn't mean her child had to be such a spoilsport about it.

Priorities. Korina needed… clothes. Just, a whole outfit for when she needed to look presentable and not a stray cat. Hestia needed hair-ties, instead of using twine. A new dress would also be very helpful. The weretigress tapped her fingers on her arm as they settled that. "I was wondering…" She looked down at Hestia’s barely-there sandals. "Is it a divine… thing, going nearly barefoot? Don't you get hurt, walking around like that?"

The goddess blinked, shifting back and forth on her old, ratty sandals. "Well, I did go around barefoot half the time back in the Upper Realms, but no? Oh, and gods don't get hurt like m-mrr?" Her face twisted as she thought about it. Actually, after a couple of weeks working at the stall, standing on her feet the entire day, she did get home feeling like her feet had been tenderized. She put them up and rested before Korina got home. "We don't… All those minor inconveniences disappear pretty fast, ahah."

"So it does bother you." "Not that much!" "And I'm betting you don’t even gain calluses for your troubles." "Urghk!"

So, priorities: shoes.

“It’s something my mother always told me.” Korina told Hestia, patting her head. “It’s worth spending good money on quality clothing, because it will last longer. And doubly so for two things: footwear and jackets.”

The goddess shot a look at the mortal. As a rule, Korina didn’t talk about her family. Not after that first day, when she’d shared her entire life story. She felt almost a burning need to ask her if she didn’t miss them, but she knew this wasn’t an appropriate setting. Something to return to later tonight, her intuition told her.

Hestia did prefer sandals. They found a stall at the market, where a middle-aged woman and her son presented gladiator-style sandals with thicker leather soles and straps that crossed over foot and ankle. Made from cow leather, they were much less expensive than the boots made from Orc hide that Korina wore to the dungeon. The sandal maker took their measurements and half up front. Picking up their shoes; Korina added the chore to Hestia’s list. As an aside, she bought three cheaply woven fiber sandals for the goddess. Backups, light and breathable for things like cleaning.

“We haven’t cleaned the house like-” “Please do not remind me.” “The floors can’t even-” “Please, Hestia.” Sometimes, Hestia’s child was really transparent about her previous lifestyle.

A bit over a third of their money gone, for a good cause Korina kept muttering, they went looking for clothes. Hestia dreamed of the white Almiraj fur dress she’d seen in a shop on North Main. Far from their price range today, but Korina wagered that by saving a little, in the next couple of months it wasn’t out of the question. Instead, Hestia found herself a knee-length dress in a dark shade of green that managed to compliment her eyes, and a short jacket in cream. The wool was thin and soft to the touch. More, she also got ribbons to tie around her waist and for her hair.

She didn’t miss how Korina rubbed her thumbs on them, a calculating look in her eyes. Already, she could tell, the adventurer was thinking of how small she’d have to make her stitches. Hestia smiled fondly. It was nice how the adventurer worried.

So Hestia dragged her to a store. It was her turn! Getting her miserly child to buy things for herself? Surprisingly easy today. Getting her to buy more than one outfit? Impossible. To accessorize? About as simple as getting Hephaestus to let anybody else forge a hammer for her.

Korina preferred pants, she’d noticed. To fit with her newly acquired sandals, she got bullied into buying a pair of lighter, mid-calf pants, black. And a nice red tunic on top. And a similar one in yellow. Unfortunately, they had no money left for a good jacket, and her child was serious about getting quality jackets.

By the time the sun was setting, they were down to 165 vals. Just enough for groceries. Hestia was getting kind of good at this whole budgeting thing!

***
Hestia and her child met Hephaestus and her own child at the restaurant the goddess of the hearth had chosen. The fare was substantially lower than what she could afford, but Hephaestus wasn’t picky about that sort of thing. Money didn’t always ensure quality after all. She trusted Hestia to choose a good place, and Korina to make sure she didn’t bankrupt herself on the way.

She looked over the pair. She immediately noticed the weretiger no longer wore ragged clothing. Her serious and calm countenance used to offset the fact that she looked a bit like a stray, mangy cat. Her friend, too, looked well. She was pleased to see that she seemed to be taking care of herself.

The smith’s eyes were immediately attracted to the dagger at the adventurer’s waist, and the ribbons Hestia wore. She waved to the child that was keeping guard tonight, leaving her to eat at a nearby table.

“Lady Hephaestus. Welf.” Korina greeted her, and her party member.

The red-haired smith crossed his arms. “Fine, you were right.”

She allowed herself a trace of a smirk, more expression than the goddess had seen on the adventurer on most interactions. “I’m glad. We do form a party.” She turned to Hephaestus. “Lady Hephaestus, before we eat: I will leave the month’s payment at your home tomorrow.”

She nodded. “Of course. You don’t have to worry too much. Your familia’s still starting out, we discussed that.” She wasn’t expecting Hestia to be able to pay the 25 millions with just Korina. If it hadn’t been for her insistence, she would have basically given it away for free. But maybe having a debt hanging over her head was doing good for Hestia’s non-existent work ethic.

Welf turned to his partner, questioningly, and the children engaged in their own conversation.

“It’s been a while since we’ve had a meal together.” Said her friend.

“At least this time I’m not footing the bill.” “Grrk, wait, we aren’t splitting it?” Hephaestus laughed and reassured her friend. “Still, how have you been? A job and everything, finally?”

Hestia stopped her pouting and sighed. “It’s haaard…” Well, she wasn’t getting any pity from Hephaestus, that was certain. “Also… I might have broken a thing, or two. So, I’m not even getting paid in full.”

“Isn’t that your own fault, in the end?”

“Hephaestus!” Critical hit.

The conversation continued after they ordered their food. Her child and Hestia’s were planning the next month, and the rest of Korina’s armor. Hephaestus listened with one ear, refraining from offering her input. On the other hand, Hestia had quite a few tales and grievances to air. Most about being mocked, on purpose or not, by the children. Hephaestus could not empathize, because she’d never been anything but minimally respected in the mortal world. Of course, she’d also arrived at Orario with an established familia and good smiths to her name.

On top of that, Hestia was hampered by, well, her size. And her general attitude. None would dare not take the goddess of the hearth seriously if she actually acted as she could. (truthfully, that particular facet of Hestia wasn’t one Hepheatus was eager to see again) But sometimes, even Hestia seemed capable of being serious about life in the lower world.

Hestia was worrying her lips, chin rested on one fist. “Hephaestus, could I ask you some advice about familia matters?”

“For advice, you can always come to me.” She was her friend, after all. “Just not for some other things.”

She had the decency to look vaguely chastised. “Well, we were just wondering what’s the, hmm, functional differences between an exploration and a business familia? Like… urgh, taxes.”

Hephaestus blinked. “Well, either way at I Rank your familia will never have to pay that much. If anything at all.” To be frank, Hephaestus had never been that low-ranked, and the red-haired goddess just did not remember the tax table she had seen back then. One other thing. “Are you going to change your familia’s type? The Guild will penalize you if your familia doesn’t match what you’ve declared.”

“Well…” Hestia glanced sideways at her child. “I’m planning for the future?”

Hephaestus raised a skeptical brow. Hestia sweated in the silence and reached for the beer. Korina grabbed said beer, replaced it with her own glass of juice and offered her gains to Welf. Welf blinked.

Hestia hissed at the tigress, who returned a meaningful half-lidded stare. The goddess pouted and accepted the juice instead.

Hephaestus laughed. “I must congratulate you on the fantastic job you’ve been doing, Korina.”

“What just happened?” Welf asked his teammate, who replied, “If my goddess wants to get drunk, she can do so with her own time and money.” “...Harsh?”

Hephaestus decided to explain how it worked for her familia, at the request of her friend. Theoretically, Hesphaestus’ smiths were all adventurers, but only a portion of them sourced most of their materials from the dungeon, and only a part of those delved regularly. Most of her smiths partied with other familias, or partied together to achieve certain objectives. Her captain was… well, Tsubaki was Tsubaki.

For a long time, her familia had been a mixed Exploration and Business type. But nowadays, whatever money her smiths made from the dungeon was a tiny percentage of Hephaestus Familia’s income. And really, that was what the Guild was mainly interested in: money. Taxes. The missions the Guild required of Orario’s familias, expeditions for exploration familias, a certain of number works from smith familias, or products from other business types, were merely a way to incentivize economic growth and combat stagnation on all levels.

“Effectively, there are only two kinds of familia in Orario: exploration types and business types. The later can be divided into several categories depending on what kind of business is their specialty. Because our revenue is overwhelmingly driven by the products we sell, we are a business familia. And since I only have smiths, a smith familia. When the percentage of income generated from raw dungeoneering is between a certain percentage range, a familia is a mixed type.”

“Those kind of details are best asked at the Guild, I assume?” “Yes. I believe that’s involved with the calculation of familia rank, and I just don’t remember those sort of details off the cuff.”

The dinner was winding to a close. The four of them were satisfied, good food and drink lifting their spirits.

“By the way Korina, Hestia mentioned you forged your first weapon?” Hephaestus asked.

Korina almost winced, and Hestia beamed, before catching up with her child’s behavior.

Welf leaned forward. “Really? How’d that go?”

The weretigress sighed. “Forging is an overestimation of what I did. I just took a War Shadow’s blade and added a hilt to it. Hardly anything special. It’s not like I know enough blacksmithing to do more than improvise.”

“Many smiths of the ancient times started like that.” Hephaestus smiled. “May I see it? Your blade.” She had to admit she was curious. Aside from that, it would be a favor she would be doing to one of her oldest friends.

Korina sighed, deep and long, hanging her head back. “Why not, at this point? Still, I would ask for your discretion, Lady Heaphaestus.”

“You will have it.” She had only to see how nervous Hestia had gotten all of a sudden.

The adventurer reached for the dagger at her waist, carefully laying the sheathed blade in the middle of the table. Welf leaned over, curious.

Hephaestus didn’t need to carefully examine the blade to tell it was of amateurish quality. A good amateur, but one nonetheless. It was all over the details, the tightness of the binding leather and sinew, the marks on the wooden sheath, the slight crookedness of the hilt. She reached for it and paused the moment her skin touched the hilt.

She had been curious about Korina’s work for some time now. It was not hard, when Hestia walked around with woven bracelets, little trinket necklaces and patterns stitched in her dress that tickled that instinct within the goddess. She hadn’t been expecting the warmth of magic beneath her hand.

Carefully, she unsheathed the blade. It was effectively unworked on, as Korina had said, but there was something about it. Too sharp, Hephaestus thought. This blade looks too deadly, and it’s from whatever magic was woven in its creation. An enchantment of some sort, and done by a novice at that.

She balanced the blade, badly, on her fingers. “It’s not terrible for a first attempt.” She returned the weapon to its owner, who thanked her. “Although Hestia… well, now I’m slightly mad at you.”

The goddess of the hearth wilted beneath her knowing gaze, before she straightened her spine and crossed her arms. “Korina’s mine.”

Welf Crozzo, completely unaware of what she’d sensed, looked askance at his partner. Hephaestus nodded. “Fair enough. Well, I’m interested to see what you’ll be able to make with more experience at the forge.”

If she was right, a rare gem had found its way to Hestia’s hands. Rough and unpolished, which only meant it could grow into the real thing with some time and a developmental ability or two.

---

Spoiler

back into the groove. orario building.
feels like i've failed hephaestus' voice here tbh. and welf is just kinda there

 

Spoiler: Danmachi Jumpchain CYOA build

Location: Free choice
Background: Adventurer -100
Race: Elf
Perks: General Fighting Skills -0, Dungeon Knowledge -100, Falna -0, Excelia -450, Level Up -150, Magic -300, The View from the Back -100
Items: Valis -0
Drawbacks: Notice Me Sempai +100

The void greeted them, along with the undeniable knowledge that it was chose your own adventure time. It took them a moment to process that before a mix of elation and fear took over. On the one hand, unlimited power. On the other hand, fates worse than death.

It wasn’t like they had any choice regardless, so who cared what they felt about it. Still, the multiverse, the omniverse, the omnipotent being in charge, had either pity or was good-humoured, because the jump document that appeared in front of them was none other than Is It Wrong to Try To Pick Up Girls In A Dungeon?

They had been obsessed with the world of danmachi recently. People could tell, with the amount of fanfiction they’d written in certain online spaces.

“Well, I don’t feel like spending points for my choices, and it’s not like I want to be a god.” Being a god in danmachi was… well, just living a regular life. With taxation and worrying about dependents and so on. “So, roll me the dice! Please.”

Free choice for location! They’d decide later, but good! Seventeen years old? Second best teenage number after nineteen. Gender… hm. They didn’t have any to carry… Flip a coin? Male, alright, easy mode then. And the last roll… being an actual elf.

“This honestly feels too good to be true.”

Now, now he had to think about his build, and which familia he wanted to join. A long relative time passed. How ironic, that most familias he liked were too adventurous for him. But he had an idea. An adventurer from Miach Familia, since he would deal with the money. A real fairy-like elf wielding a spear.

“Time for the build.” He clapped his hands. “Adventurer at 100, magic and it’s 250, two excelia purchases for a round 400…” He calculated it. They weren’t horrible stats. “But add a level up for 550… another magic and more excelia and I’ll be at 800.” Just two hundred points left. Or more if he got any drawbacks. “Dungeon knowledge, that’s a given. The strategy view will be super useful too, although I’m starting to be a bit pallum in my build… Anyway 1000 round.” Now did he want more? Actually, why not? “And for the low low price of a terribly unrequited crush… more stats. There, 1000 round.”

Now that he looked at his stats, they were almost overpowered. But only almost. This would make it real easy to level up soon after starting. He could taste the level three. It would make him not irrelevant to Bell, to whom there was a good enough chance he would be friends with. In fact, he decided that he would start on the fifth floor.

The void starting falling away. “Wait, I forgot to choose a name.”

..-..-..-..
█████ ██████ Lv.2
Strength E450 - Endurance F350 - Dexterity A850 - Agility D550 - Magic S950 - Mage I
█████ █████
[████ ████]
[███████████]

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Arc: Introduction​

Dungeon, Lower Fifth. He blinked, hearing a distant scream. “Ah, that was the bunny.” He’d missed him. Well, no matter… hm, the sound was coming closer? A red-haired human barreled out of the closest intersection and into him. Well, he would have, but sudden Lv2 reflexes caught him by his shoulders and stopped his movement.

“Waahh?!” “Whoa.” He let go of the adventurer that was completely soaked in strong-smelling blood.

It was enough. The rabbit bolted. He stared at the corner the kid had disappeared around, then remembered. He almost facepalmed, but refrained from the stupid amount of blood on his gloves. That had been Bell. Now it really was too late. He wasn’t going to go chasing after the rabbit.

“Urgh. Disgusting.” He cleaned his hand on the dungeon’s wall. Then he took stock of himself and his memories. He wore good quality light armour in brown and blue, wielding in his left hand a hunting spear with a long, leaf-shape point. A couple of belts and pouches held a handful of throwing knives and potions. Immediately, he knew he had already made some purchases with the free money given by the jump.

He angled his spear so he could see his face on the blade’s surface. Long blue-hair, dark eyes, fair like an elf… “Nice.”

Last night, he remembered like it had happened, he had returned to Orario after a long soul-searching trip. Six years long. So long, he’d returned to find his familia gutted and thrown into a gutter of debt, Naaza missing and visibly traumatized, and even his God… subdued. His grip tightened instinctively on his spear. He’d gotten caught up, updated his status, given half his money to Naaza and gone to Babel to buy some decent equipment for the dungeon.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Now that he was here, he could turn everything around. He would. “I can meet Bell tomorrow.” He twirled his spear, cracked his neck and advanced deeper in the dungeon.

He had years of memories of being an adventurer, but nothing beat real life experience. It was the same as adjusting to one’s body after a level up. His spear flashed, piercing through frog shooters, then killer ants and needle rabbits. Each stab and slice destroyed magic stones with precision, leaving only the occasional drop item behind. The moths and butterflies were just a bit of a challenge, because he had to actually start moving after them. As a high-end level 2, only now, at the lower eighth and lower ninth did things stop becoming a joke.

And he knew better than to underestimate the lower tenth and below. He was a level 2, but he was also going solo.

The fog of the lower tenth enveloped him. It was ominous, yet ‘he’ had already been here before. His steps became quieter, stalking. The orc didn’t see him until it was too late. He finally moved at full speed, bolting towards the large monster. His spear weaved a pattern, first removing the monster’s eyes in a staccato, then slicing through its protective skin as he danced around its flailing. The spear was holding very nicely, so he decapitated his prey with one sweep.

The large body tumbled to the floor, headless. “And that’s before magic.”

He collected the orc’s stone, unlike the less valuable ones from the floors above him. One chamber further, the bad bats and imps attacked. The swarm shrieked and it hurt. He cleared two meters around him with furious sweeps. “Fine then.” His movements slowed as he stood his ground. He wasn’t confident in moving while he did this.

Magic. His second spell, and the longer one.

“Embrace my goodbye.” A blue magic circle drew itself beneath him. “Embrace my affection. Dazzling despair, painful eternity.” He defined his parameters, magic rising almost out of his control. “Let me bury this world whole, fly forth nimbly to your end.” Conditions set, trigger loose. Fire. “Infinitatem!”

A shimmer distorted the air and all the monsters within his spell found themselves floating without control. The bats were shrieking with all their might, but they couldn’t aim their cries. The spell had already been cast anyway.

He prepared his spear for fishing in the metaphorical barrel, a smile on his lips, and then she appeared.

It should have been too fast for him to process, yet everything was picture perfect, crystal clear. Bursting from the fog like a mythical creature, eyes flashing, perfect hair flying, grace and power in every movement, she had her staff at his throat. And she spoke.

He could barely blink. “Uh?”

Delicate brows furrowed, and he just managed to catch her words amidst the sight of her rosy lips. “Did you cast that spell?”

“Spell? Yeah?” And everything crashed down. His eyes bulged as his mind caught up, and he found himself at staff point from Her Highness, Nine Hells, Riveria Ljos Alf. Who’d just asked him about his spell. “W-w-wait, wait, wait! Ri-Ri Lady Riveria? What’s wrong!? I didn’t catch anybody with it, right?”

The high elf stepped back with a sigh. With a powerful sweep of her staff and arm, a portion of the fog was blown away, revealing that the bad bats were mostly dead. The shrieking he was hearing was a black-haired adventurer flailing as he floated near the ceiling. “Yes.”

“Oh shit.” Eyes wide, face paper white, he canceled the spell without a thought. “Wait, wait, oh no.”

Raul Nord fell. Well, that had been the longest last day of his life. Raul hit his bum on the floor, rolled around pitifully for a few seconds and then got up, rubbing his neck. His other arm was in a sling. “Ow. Why?”

Apologies blubbered from his lips. “I’m sorry, I am so so sorry, I didn’t see you there, I didn’t mean to, fuck, are you okay? You’re injured, I’m so sorry!”

Raul waved him off, chuckling lowly. “No real harm done.” He sighed, deeply.

“Please be more careful about aiming your magic next time.” A stern voice returned his attention to the elven beauty that was Riveria. “I can see there was no ill intent, but that could easily have been taken as an attack.” All he could do was salute, then bow still saluting, apologizing all the while. “Remember my words. All of you, let’s go. There’s no time to be dawdling.”

In the wake of Loki Familia’s passage, he straightened from his bow. His shoulders slumped. “She’s… perfect.” And completely unattainable.

..-..-..-..
[Infinitatem]: Wide area control magic. Nullifies gravity of targets. “Embrace my goodbye. Embrace my affection. Dazzling despair, painful eternity. Let me bury this world whole, fly forth nimbly to your end.”

··-··-··-··​

It was a very despondent elf that left the dungeon. He dragged his feet, a bag nearly bursting at the seams with magic stones slung over his back and drop items wrapped in a tarp. He cashed the stones in and walked back home. A sad pout didn’t leave his face, and his eyes didn’t leave the cobblestones.

“I’m home…”

“Welcome back.” Naaza Erisius greeted him. She wasn’t sure about him, he knew. They’d been comrades, back when ‘he’ had been a little punk. A little punk who’d gotten scared and skipped town to go on a quote-unquote ‘spirit quest’ the moment he’d hit level 2. And had never written back.

To be honest, they had only known he wasn’t dead because Miach could still sense his blessing.

“Money. Drop items.” He put his gains on the counter and headed back into the shop.

“... Robin?” Her call made him stop.

“I’m fine.” The elf put his hands on his forehead and pushed his long hair back, before untying it. “I almost made a really stupid mistake…” No almost about it. “And now I’m feeling bad about it and pitying myself.”

He turned to open the door to the stairs that led to the upper floors of the Blue Pharmacy’s living space annex, and remembered that part was boarded up. Because the familia was deep into debt. Which he hadn’t known about. He was currently sleeping on the ratty couch that they still had only because Naaza hadn’t been able to pawn it off.

Robin Awbery, new-old member of Miach Familia, pressed his hands to his face and took a deep breath. “Captain, the amount I’ve made today, how is it?”

“Not enough.”

“Not enough to pay off our debt this year, not enough to pay it off within ten years or not enough to even put food on the table?” He wasn’t stupid, he glared at her.

The chienthrope sighed. “You can make more as a level 2.” Especially with his stats went unsaid. “How deep did you go?”

“Tenth floor. I didn’t even have a good opportunity to test out how my magic’s changed since the update.” Supposedly, it’d been six years of experience that had gotten him those incredible stats. “I also don’t have a supporter. And on top of that I didn’t want to reveal anything by going after the best monsters for their drops.”

“That’s true.” Naaza muttered. “Sorry. This is good, it’s enough to keep us minimally comfortable while paying Dian Cecht. And… thanks for the drops.”

“Oh, good, that was what I was worried about.” He smiled a bit. “I’ll make way more once I get back into the dungeon groove, don’t worry. I’ll… also spend more, but trust that I’ll bring back more than enough. Even enough to get our rooms back up to snuff!”

“Mmm, right. Get clean and then come mind the counter.” Naaza waved him off. “At least with you here I have more time to work on our potions.”

For being in a medicinal familia, Robin was a failure of an alchemist. He had no green thumb for an elf, and wasn't skilled with healing either. That wasn't to say he was the alchemist equivalent of a person who burned water when they cooked. Between previous life experience and plain old hard work-slash-cheating, he could more or less know the quality of a potion, which one to prescribe in simple cases, and foraging was fine… just below average for the standards of actual adventurers. Of the field.

Naaza still wouldn't let him do anything in the lab. She had exacting standards and no time or patience. Frankly, Robin's time would always be better spent in the dungeon.

Now, cleaning and reviewing whatever notes Naaza had left for him, he wondered about his own preparations. Dungeon-venturing, rather than dungeon-farming, was expensive. Robin didn’t have to worry about potions, which most people spent thousands on. But he did have to worry about equipment. For the use he was planning to give them, his spear and armor were passable only. He’d contact Welf Crozzo but… well, maybe he should wait for Bell to do it and then ‘remember’ he also needed a smith. It wasn’t like he wanted magic swords, so that should be fine.

Wait, did Bell meet Welf before or after his level up?

In these ruminations, Miach arrived home, door bell ringing as he entered his own shop. The handsome god greeted him with a smile which was easily reciprocated. The god of medicine had welcomed him back happily and prefaced that he didn’t mind if he wanted to convert. Which, fuck that. He was too nice and deserved some niceness too.

“How was your day, Robin? Did you have luck in the dungeon?” He asked.

Robin couldn’t help but sigh. “Well…” He’d been both unlucky and blessed beyond description. “It’s complicated…”

He leaned in to tell the one person of his familia who would care about his romantic woes about his dungeon encounter. “Don’t tell Naaza but…” “Don’t tell me what?” Ah, busted.

Needless to say, Naaza was livid that he’d almost gotten into trouble with Loki Familia of all people. And then he had the gall to fall in love with Nine Hells, apparently. He was lucky they didn’t beat him up- “Lady Riveria would never allow such behavior-” or demand compensation “Oh, that’s an idea…”

He got bopped on the head. “Please take this seriously!”

“I am! Think about it!” Robin spread his hands like he was selling a pitch. “We cement our good reputation as contrite, respectful, nice and honorable adventurers, and make sure they can’t hold anything over our heads on top! Plus, plus, it can even serve to advertise our potions! And I get to see Riveria again!”

“Tch, you womanizing elf.” “Lady Riveria is the woman of my dreams and I shan’t look at anybody else!” “You elven sycophant.” “Eheh! …guilty.”

“I think it’s nice you’ve found a woman to love.” Miach remarked, smiling at his children. “I wish you the best of luck with her.”

And suddenly the depression was back. Robin sniffed and hunched over. Ah, that was right. By the rules of the universe, he had no chances. Ever. “It’s doomed. She’ll never even look at me.” He bonked his forehead on the table, despairing. And bonked it again.

Miach and Naaza exchanged a look at the intensity of his emotions. “Is there… something specific going on? You have a great deal of talent Robin, I have no doubt you can make even Loki’s Nine Hells notice you.”

“Remember when I joined and we talked about my weird status progression? That I was cursed?” The elf’s ears were actually drooping.

Miach’s eyes widened. “Oh. Then…?”

“This is it.” He lamented. “Fate itself decrees that she’ll never, ever, ever. See me as even an option.”

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air.

Naaza got up, approached him and set her mechanical hand on his shoulder. Then, just like ‘he’ had told her to, over six years ago, she said. “That’s rough, buddy.”

..-..-..-..
Robin Awbery Lv.2

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Robin woke up before dawn. It was weird how his adventuring memories clashed a bit with his previous modern life. He’d woken up even before Naaza, although his captain was already showing signs of waking up.

“It feels nice.” He said to the city still mostly bathed in shadows. It’d been years like this from one perspective. From another, it’d been years of anything but this. “Well, now about today…”

He had a couple of things to do. Firstly, Naaza had caved last night, and a pack had been prepared for him to offer as compensation to Loki Familia. Half a dozen bottles. High potions and high magic potions of the highest quality Naaza could make. The total was over 100,000 valis if sold at their shop. It was also going to come out of his earnings. A level 2, even solo, could make that in a couple of weeks.

Actually, Robin could do way more, provided he had supporters. Which brought him to his second point: Bell. He could trust Bell, so now was the time to get in touch with him. With his help, he would be able to rack in a massive amount of cash. Robin had a plan.

Finally, he had to buy some equipment, test some things he hadn’t had the chance to do yesterday, help Miach and Naaza, and plan out a routine.

So, a few hours until the things started opening up and adventurers really flocked to the dungeon, he grabbed his spear and set out. He went directly to the dungeon, jogging quickly along the unusually empty streets of Orario. Not completely, but very few people were awake and out at this hour. The distance from the Blue Pharmacy to Babel was still considerable. Orario was massive. It was his level 2 stats that made it possible to not get exhausted just from the distance. The dungeon was similarly empty. He barreled through the lower first floor and found a room that was wide enough to test his first magic.

Magic choices: awesome.

He ended up leaving the dungeon with a massive grin on his face and a better idea of what he needed. His build was just what he wanted indeed. His rushing through the floor had ended attracting a lot of monsters, since there were no other adventurers to target. It had ended up being a good warm up and spear practice. He exchanged the pitiful stones at Babel, wishing an ironic good night to the sole guild employee, at the end of his night shift. Now adventurers were starting their days.

Robin stopped near the fountain on Central Plaza. Now, first Loki Familia or Bell? He thought Bell woke up pretty early… but also, Loki Familia would be easy to track. They’d gotten back from their expedition the day before too, so they’d probably have a good, long night’s sleep before they went and sold their gains. It’s what he would do.

“Now, Miach told me Hestia’s church is near West Main like our place,” he turned to face the correct street, “and Bell passes by the Host of Fertility every day…” Had he passed by the bar too? “Mmm, I guess I can start walking… it’s not terrible if I miss Bell today…”

Indeed, he calmly set in the direction of his own home, and ended up seeing the characteristic shinny white hair of Bell Cranel. He was… ooh. Robin’s eyes tracked a grey-haired waitress leaving a flustered Bell behind. He’d actually caught her on the prowl.

Yeah he wasn’t going to touch that situation, no way.

Instead, he raised an arm and amicably called out. “Hey, white-hair! You Bell Cranel?"

The rabbit jumped, still unconsciously spooked by his encounter… or something. “Y-yes? I’m sorry?” He didn’t even know what to say.

Then again, Robin had approached him out of nowhere. “Heyo. My god mentioned you. I’m Robin Awbery, Miach Familia.”

His red eyes widened. They really are a nice ruby red. “Miach Familia? Oh, are you the person who returned from a training trip? Lord Miach told my goddess.”

Golly. Miach really went and told everybody about him, hadn’t he? He didn’t deserve the man. “Yeah. Six years. I shouldn’t have left Miach and Naaza alone for so long… Anyway, can we talk? We can walk if you prefer.”

“No, there’s no problem. What is it?”

“Okay, well, my god said you’re a good kid. Trust-worthy. I need a supporter for a couple of days, somebody who I know will not babble about my skills or magic. I thought you might be available for it?”

“I… am? I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you want from me?” Bell scratched his head with an awkward laugh.

Robin blinked, remembering how young and inexperienced Bell was at this point. He explained that he wanted to keep his skills a secret, so he couldn’t hire a free supporter. They might sell the information or something. “We’ll split the loot equally, and I'll protect you in case anything goes wrong, of course."

"I can protect myself, Mister Robin." The younger adventurer insisted.

The elf shook his head. "And I believe you, but we're not going to go regular dungeon diving. I'm a strong level 2 for one, I go much deeper than you."

That deflated the adventurer, who asked. "How deep?" The words of his own advisor were flashing behind his eyes, accusingly.

"No worries, I won’t take you past the fifth. We're probably going to stick around the lower fourth or fifth. Because we're going to use a high-risk, high-reward strategy: pantry raiding." The new technical terms were confusing Bell. "How about this, come by our pharmacy after you leave the dungeon and I'll explain my plan. If you're okay with it, you can help me tomorrow."

The boy nodded. "Alright… I will. Will you be going to the dungeon now too?" He received a negative. "It was to meet you, Mister Robin."

Robin smiled. "Likewise." And then, because he couldn’t help himself. "But we already met yesterday." "?" "An adventurer completely covered in blood bumped into me on the fifth floor and ran off… that was you, wasn't it?"

Bell paled, blushed, and left at high speed, mumbling apologies. Ah, the youth. Robin's smile wavered. Right. Now it was his turn to face his own embarrassing moment.

After picking up his apology package from Naaza, he headed to the Pantheon. There were two main places to exchange magic stones in the city, but he doubted Loki would send them to trade in stones all the way in the confusion that was Babel at most hours of the day. He was right, catching a crowd as the top-ranked familia dragged entire wagons down the streets and up to the Guild’s doorstep. He listened to the pallum give out his orders and split the familia from amidst several other onlookers. Riveria and Gareth followed Finn inside.

Robin took a deep breath. He should wait. He might have to wait most of the day if they actually waited for the guild to count all of those stones… "Fuck it." He went in.

He was just in time to see a guild worker open a door to let the trio go deeper into the building. Reflexively, he took a step forward, voice rising. “He—y…” But it died in his throat as he realized what he was doing and became self-conscious.

High elven ears twitched minutely. That little call, brief as it was in the din of the Pantheon, did not escape the hearing of first class adventurers. Riveria did not do more than glance at the voice she sensed directed at them. Then she looked again, and paused. “The adventurer from yesterday.”

Jade green eyes were looking at him. Robin found that his palms were sweating, hyper aware of the package in his hands. “Oh no.”

“Hmm, what is it Riveria?” Finn Deimne asked his vice-captain, who murmured an answer.

A slew of curses and expletives most unfitting of an elf were galloping inside Robin’s mind. Too late to back down, he inhaled and approached them. He didn’t know what he needed to say. No, he needed to keep it simple. He offered the box, potions visible from the top. “Compensation. For yesterday.” There? He said it? No, he should keep talking. Just a bit. “I’m really sorry again.” Should he bow? Was that too much? Also, how to bow with your arms busy and in front of your body?

His eyes kept flitting from the ground to his hands to the woman of his dreams. Finn traded a look with Riveria that went unseen. The high elf rolled her eyes so subtly only a first class would have noticed it.

Her footsteps nearly made the blue-haired elf jump out of his skin. “You realize that your actions could have easily been taken as an attack and I would have been justified in treating it as such, do you not?”

“Uh-uh-yes.” She was getting closer.

“Awareness is the foundation of any mage. Without it, a mage is more dangerous to their allies than any enemy.”

“Right.” Higher thoughts barely survived in the head of this lovestruck elf.

She took the box from him, appraising the high quality potions favorably. Her bare hands were mere centimeters from his. Robin’s heart thundered and he barely heard her next words. “Still, I am glad you seem to recognize your mistake and seek to correct it. That is a good attitude to have.”

A strangled hum left the throat of the young adventurer. Riveria did not sigh. Elves were always like this, much to her frustration. With a nod, she returned to Finn’s side.

Finn called out to the kid. “Hey, your name and familia?”

The blue-haired elf, pale faced, startled. “Hm, Robin Awbery, Miach Familia!?”

“I see.” The Braver nodded. “Good hunting, Robin Awbery.”

..-..-..-..

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And so, Robin was useless for the rest of the morning. He did things, but mentally, he was not there. He bought the supplies he would need for his pantry raids, a pocket watch because it was too useful, and invested a significant amount of money in a hip length cloak. It was meant to completely block out light.

Then he had time for an afternoon dungeon run, which he spent hunting down butterfly monsters for their drops. Having to hide his spell every time a party came around, and there were quite a few when he went running around, was getting frustrating.

This was the weird mental state that Bell Cranel found Robin in. The human boy nearly got persuaded to spend too much money, but the elf had terrible timing and invited him deeper into their home. There, the more experienced adventurer laid out his plan, explained strange adventuring terms like ah-oh-ee and camping and agro, and taught Bell even more about the dungeon.

In the end, Bell accepted to be his temporary supporter. Agreed upon with a handshake and everything. Naaza would have wanted a contract but Robin doubted it would last a long time, considering Bell was Bell. He was going to have to find some person sooner rather than later.

Miach invited Bell for dinner, the boy had promised to go eat at a restaurant because of some waitress or something. His explanation was awkward. Robin couldn’t miss this.

“Then let’s all go.” He said. “To celebrate us working together, and my coming back to the city.”

Naaza protested. “A restaurant is going to be expensive and for all you’ve talked… you still have barely made a contribution to our household finances…” Her sleepy gaze was accusing.

“Come now.” Miach was of the opposite opinion. “Now that Robin is back, we can afford to celebrate every now and then. It’s just one night at a restaurant.”

Robin patted his captain’s shoulder, feeling guilty. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on making this a habit. You’ve shown me our financials… and our God’s… habits.” That probably sounded worse than it actually was. “His philanthropic habits.”

“Fine. Only for today.” Thus the party of four set out.

Bell eventually managed to lead them to the bar he’d been accosted near to that morning. His description of the waitress’ tactics had Robin cringing and Naaza wavering between approval towards the girl… and the strange feeling that Bell was just too easy of a target. It definitely wasn’t any sort of regret.

“Oh, this does look nice.” Robin commented to Miach. Naaza was already squinting at the menu hanging outside, and the prices there displayed. Her frown, minute as it was, got even more profound as they entered and noticed the all-female, quite pretty staff.

Robin had honestly forgotten about that part. And Bell… Bell was almost hiding behind him and Miach. The kid was actually quite shy.

“Bell?” A grey-haired waitress called out to him, eyes flitting between her guest and his companions.

“... I’ve come. And brought more people.” He smiled awkwardly.

Despite that, the waitress smiles and bows. “I see that. Welcome! Are they your familia?”

Bell hurries to deny it. “No, no, Lord Miach is just a friend of my goddess!”

“Mm,” The girl put a finger on her chin. “Well, I’m not sure we have a free table for four, but you can sit at the counter!”

That was okay with them. Sniggering, Robin encouraged Bell to sit a bit apart from them, on the seat at the nook of the counter. When he said he wasn’t going to interfere, he meant it. The girl, and he knew, oh he knew, had invited Bell specifically. So there was no problem about some light teasing, right? He definitely wasn’t scared of her or anything.

No, he just didn’t feel like leaving Bell alone on a night where he might get humiliated.

“He’s getting played like a fiddle.” Naaza said lowly to Miach and Robin. Syr Flover was running rings around the young boy.

Robin sighed. “Bell needs to grow a bit of a spine. This might help him realize that? You know, maybe.” The trio unanimously decided to let Bell handle that whole situation by himself. Robin shot him a covert and cheeky thumbs-up.

Bell’s overwhelmed face pleaded for mercy. But eventually, food and drink was in front of them all. Delicious food. If the Hostess of Fertility wasn’t so expensive, and they weren’t in so much debt, Robin would consider eating here most days of the week. The atmosphere was also very good. Then the door opened bombastically as a red-haired goddess made her entrance. Loki Familia was here. All their stars. The first string and second string that had just come back from an expedition.

Ais Wallenstein and Bete Loga are here, Robin thinks into his cider. Then he sees forest green hair and chokes. His eyes widen and his head pivots on his neck as he follows the one person that had somehow slipped his mind making her way through the bar. How? How had he not thought about Riveria??

Truthfully, Robin’s mental state had been so rattled from the encounter that morning that it completely checked out any thoughts of Loki’s trio. Selective amnesia. And as such, he hadn’t managed to think about what it would mean exactly to come to the Hostess of Fertility in this fateful night.

He buried his face in his mug and took deep breaths to stop himself from hyperventilating. Miach was rubbing careful circles on his back and Naaza was considering just how bad his affliction was.

“Oh no no no, fuck I forgot. They’re here, oh shit. What if she sees me? What if she recognizes me? What if Finn or Gareth point me out because I’m the stupid dude who made a stupid mistake and had the stupid gall to try to bribe their forgiveness with some measly potions oh no no no.” The scenarios were rolling in his mind. “My hair is bright fucking blue I can’t fucking hide. Oh gods, I’m at the counter, that’s in plain sight and getting up right now means more attention…”

A hand was on his shoulder. “Robin. Calm down.” The voice of his god washed over him.

His muscles relaxed almost unconsciously. He glanced up at Miach. Miach who still wore his very used, poor robes and couldn’t give a shit about who thought what about him. Because what mattered was what one did and what their heart felt. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright.” He looked over his shoulder, making the elf’s attention be drawn to the other familia as well. “I can see why you fell in love. She is quite the beauty, isn't she?”

“Yeah.” Robin no doubt looked like a dumbstruck fool. But he couldn’t help it. Riveria held her drink delicately, just a glass that she sipped quietly and regally in the middle of her familia’s hubbub. “You know, I’m only barely older than the Sword Princess.”

“That’s right?”

“Riveria is almost a century old.” He made sure to talk quietly. “She’s literally old enough to be my mother… in elf years. Everything is against me and her here.” He was chagrined. Why did he have to fall for her? And yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret the feeling in his heart. He wanted her, wanted to talk to her, to hold her hand, just to be closer to her. “She’s never going to look at me.” He repeated.

Naaza spoke up. “It sounds impossible, doesn’t it? Like they will never see you like that, no matter what.” Her eyes reflected the pain of being unseen… unrequited. “But you love her, right? Are you going to give up on her before you even try to catch her eye?”

He really had the best familia. “Naaza, I got you too buddy.” The demi-humans shared rueful smiles over the counter.

“But by the way, what’s wrong with Bell?”

Miach Familia leaned over the counter to see the white-haired boy curled on the floor. Unfortunately for him, Mia did not particularly care that he really absolutely needed to hide from Loki familia. Robin himself was praying that nobody had noticed his incredibly attention grabbing shiny blue hair. He’d gotten Naaza to lend him her scarf. Doing more than that would be even more attention grabbing. Fortunately for both of them, the first-class adventurers seemed to be entirely uninterested in anything but partying.

Bell surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder at one particular blonde. Robin had his long ears perked for one particular dignified voice. In fact, he was so carefully listening to her, that he forgot, again, why he was there.

“And then, ya know, Tomato Boy!” Bete Loga.

Then it got harder and harder to listen, even if he knew most of them weren’t laughing at Bell himself, even if he knew Bete was just being a drunk fuck. Miach quietly touched his arm. Robin pointed surreptitiously at Bell, who had frozen, pale-faced. Bete Loga kept getting worse and worse, to the point where his own friends were asking him to stop. Riveria herself laid down the law, but for once, Robin’s eyes were focused on the rabbit shaking in his seat.

The look on his face… Robin didn’t catch the words that were the breaking point, but he caught the absolutely devastated, gut-wrenching look on Bell’s face. Shame.

Bell flew off from the Hostess of Fertility, a waitress close on his heels.

“Robin…” “I’m already on it.” Robin pushed his chair backwards and left at a quick but calm pace, leaving the rest to Miach.

He just barely brushed shoulders with Ais Wallenstein as she too arrived to the door. “You’ll only make it worse, Ais.” Is what he wanted to say. Instead, he muttered an excuse me, shouldering his way past.

He didn’t need to look hurried right now. He knew exactly where Bell was going.

..-..-..-..

··-··-··-··​

«I want to see it.»

There's a difference between knowing and knowing. What was it about Bell Cranel that moved people's hearts so much? He was just a kid. A protagonist, but how much of it was him and how much was just contrived fate? A pure soul? What did that mean? Why were his efforts worth more than anybody’s?

So, Robin followed. His superior speed had him on Bell’s heels in moments. He shadowed the steps of the boy. He thought he smelled salt faintly on the quiet night.

He saw nothing but an angry kid, slashing at monsters. Skilled, yes. But could he say that he was more skilled, more driven, than Ais Wallenstein? Than Finn Deime? Than so many others?

No.

He went down and down. Lower second, lower third, lower fourth, lower fifth. Bell paused on the lower sixth. The boy has been nothing but blindly lashing out at any target. It was reckless, but not quite suicidal. Robin knew he wouldn’t turn back yet. He’d be disappointed if he did. And Bell did continue. Aimlessly.

What was the kid looking for? Validation? He had to be humiliated, but when would he come to his senses?

Robin looked on as Bell got cornered by two War Shadows. He closely followed the fighting, spear lazily turning in his palm. Only the vague knowledge that Bell would get out of it stayed his hand. It wasn’t a good fight, technically speaking. It was a bit desperate. Slow, even, to his eyes. Maybe it was the tiniest bit cool how Bell remained standing despite his disadvantages. He didn’t give up or run, tho he had little space for those.

But Robin looked at his clear, tearful eyes and saw nothing but a hurt kid. Over not being good enough for a girl.

The dungeon seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, but it wouldn’t let an opportunity like this go. The walls cracked, monsters were born. Robin killed two shadows trying to sneak up on him without so much as turning to look at them. His eyes were fixated on Bell Cranel.

The young adventurer was fighting for his life against several shadows and grounded monsters. Never stopping, adrenaline burning, pushing forward and forward, bouncing up every time he’d fallen. He’d taken hold of a drop item to use as a weapon, showcasing quick-thinking and ingenuity. And yet…

Was this it?

He wasn’t seeing it.

The spark that lit up fires in people’s hearts.

«Disappointing.»

So utterly disappointing, Robin thought as Bell shattered the stone of the last monster. He was all scratched up and bleeding. He’d had to stop himself from intervening many times already, because he knew. He knew Bell would hate it. And he because he knew Bell would manage.

But all of that was informed knowledge. He was told that Bell was cool and a hero and amazing. And now, unable to see it, suddenly, Robin found himself strangely angry.

This… stupid kid.

With a loud sigh, he stepped into the chamber. Bell’s eyes widened and his mouth opened. Then he was falling unconscious as the butt of Robin’s spear struck him precisely between his brows.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” The elf said to the air a moment later. “Damn it.”

Frustration and shame rose up again, and Robin went breaking the dungeon’s walls to stop monsters from spawning. He needed time to think. He needed to apologize to Bell. But first, he needed to understand why his feelings were going out of control like this. Too reminiscent of his past-life. Why was he having an outburst now? He was fine. New world, new life, problems that could be actually be solved.

“No. It was stupid of me to think that just because I got a new healthy body that my head would a-ok.” Mental shit did not just get cured like that. “So what was it? Which shit hangup is messing me up now?”

«Why are you angry with Bell Cranel?»

“Because I was expecting better.” Vocalizing. It helped him think. “He’s supposed to be the hero. But all I’m seeing is a protagonist, not a hero, and being a protagonist means less than shit in a real world. It’s just authorial fiat. It’s plot armor.”

Well, he’d known that. Liaris Freese was a thing that existed.

“He’s supposed to be like… this pure soul that catches Freya’s eyes, this innocent kid that shines a light into the heart of Ais when not even her family could do that much. Finn gets inspired by him. Finn!” Hands were thrown up. “But the reality is that he just wants to, what, bang a chick?”

Robin took several deep breaths. He wasn’t being fair. To Bell, to anybody. He needed to step back and think the problem through. He needed to think his anger through. To get to the root of the problem. He also needed to be careful not to fall into hypocrisy. So he breathed in, breathed out, adjusted Bell on the floor so that he wouldn’t have a neck crick.

“Okay. I’m not being fair. Bell has character development. Haruhime, for example. He doesn’t feel like a hero until… the black goliath?” That was right. “And he doesn’t really… inspire anybody until the minotaur. He feels like just a kid to me because right now that’s all he is.” The kid that Zeus was shocked to hear had amounted to anything. “This is Bell’s first step. I was putting too much stock on my knowledge and not seeing him for who he was.” Robin sighed and passed a hand over his hair. “Mea culpa. Sorry Bell.” He said to the unconscious boy.

The anger that had gripped him had slowly leaked out, like a deflating balloon.

He was left feeling bad and guilty. Maybe, he thought, he’d wanted Bell to inspire him. He’d wanted to take advantage of that. And that realization made his gut curdle. A frog shooter died ignobly as Robin came to terms with that.

“Okay, fine.” He’d messed up. On top of that, he’d let his preconceptions run wild. Back to the top. “Bell wants to impress the girl loves… well, the girl he admires and will probably grow to really love once he gets to know her. Rather than know about her. I hope. So… is there anything evil about that?”

Of course not.

“It’s kinda unfair that he gets an overpowered skill just because he made heart-eyes at a girl.” He scoffed. “Because he got picked up by a girl in the dungeon.”

But the world wasn’t fair.

“So. Jealousy, hm?”

«How mundane.»

Still, it made him feel better. He had been jealous. Now he knew his own feelings. They weren’t evil feelings, just another part of being human, or elf. In the end, was jealousy that far off from Bell’s own feelings? His sense of inadequacy, his desire to impress a girl… how were those feelings any less human than simple jealousy? A thought popped up, and Robin closed his eyes to do a simple thought exercise.

“What if it was me? What if… Finn was the one disparaging me… when we met…” His mind rewinded back to that morning, to the nervous fluttering inside as he approached Loki Familia within the Pantheon. The most beautiful woman in front of him, barely acknowledging his existence. He could picture it, stomach turning as imaginary words filled the air. His reckless spell, the trouble his inexperience had caused, and the way everybody’s eyes would be on him.

Adventurers of all levels and walks of life, watching.

It was almost like a flashback. Suddenly Robin was sick. He was years younger and a stupid, stupid, stupid naive kid that had gotten up to the stage when it hadn’t been–

He heaved. “No, fuck, no. Stop it.” He wasn’t there, it had been years ago, everybody had forgotten. “You are literally in another world!”

He felt sick.

“Stop it!!”

A spear flashed silver, carving through half a dozen monsters that had gathered to ambush them. It was a mistake. The elf might be on the edge of tears, but he was still so much stronger than the upper floors’ rabble. It should have been easy, but nothing registered. In that moment, Robin blindly lashing out just as much as Bell. The floor filled with bloody corpses and ashes.

The elf panted, but not from effort. Slowly, his spear lowered. His eyes fixed on the floor, then turned to the white-haired kid resting nearby.

“... Man. I really am a fucking hypocrite.”

---

Spoiler

all songs chants and other rhymes shamelessly stolen from macross frontier

 

7.

I had a flawless plan to stop hate crimes! I lied. I was shit out of ideas. Well, I was out of subtle ideas. As I scrolled down the chemical composition of several neurotoxins in an online encyclopedia, I realized once again the awesome assassination potential of skitterpan. (I needed to find a better name for shaper-modified insects.)

Tetrodotoxin, my beloved.

Poisoning would be my first choice. I could, potentially, maybe, use bug-rats to chomp through their vehicles’ brakes, fuel lines, and other general electronics. It wasn’t like it would be any less suspicious than a random disease-sickness-allergy-pick your poison here… of these particular people who just happened to be hate-criming.

Going after their equipment however, was ineffective. As in, nothing was stopping a neo-nazi from getting another car and continuing the night but more determined and suspicious at the same time.

So. Methods that would incapacitate racists.

Preferably not forever. (maybe it was the fact that Worm hadn’t been, you know, real just a few days ago but) Murder wasn’t entirely off the table.

For ethical reasons, however, I would prefer not to go that far unless I had no other choice.

(Also, legally, murder was worse than… aggravated assault? Hm, help me, internet. Oh, I had been right!)

Anyway, the issue I was running into was that just because I knew the chemical formula, didn’t mean I could design an organic process to get that chemical. Panacea definitely had a thinker-like element to her powers. I, apparently, had not. Or rather, my sacrifice was speed. And the speed of that element of her powerset was also very reduced.

Was it helpful to not overload my poor little brain with all the bacteria that existed everywhere? Yes. Was it helpful in designing war crimes- I mean, biological weapons? No.

I had thought of a good way to utterly fuck these nazis Getting them high. Like, injecting THC into their veins high. I just needed a bit of a cannabis plant. Or a hemp plant. Guess which alternate reality country had turbo-charged their War On Black- I Mean DRUGS?! That’s right, Bet-USA. And I did not believe I would manage to find a cannabis plant in Brocton Bay. They definitely existed here, but people really tended to underestimate how big cities were. I wasn’t Skitter. Bug recon had its limits, hard and soft.

So I guess we were going to go with mushrooms.

Why mushrooms? Well, wiki-crawling had gotten me to psilocin, which was the active compound of magic mushrooms, apparently. Injected into somebody via bug bites, I was certain it would lead to quite a trip. Mushrooms were plentiful, even in january. Much easier to find. And if I didn’t manage to find any mushroom from that particular family, I was sure I could get my hands on enough chemical compounds to rot somebody’s genitals off.

Which I wasn’t going to do. Seriously.

Then I just had to combine Mr. Fungi with Ms. Insecta and enjoy the show. Cue evil laughter.

---

Spoiler

yeah, somebody liked this thing and I got motivation to write this specifically bc I always have motivation to write something. i just... have a lot of 'things'.

 

8.

Operation Notzi High started out well.

A walk through the quiet parks of Brockton Bay had yielded a lot of mushrooms, many of them small and hidden. Unless you had upwards to thousands of compound eyes. Still, winter had given me some small yellow mushrooms that, brought to my hand by my loyal flies. From there, it was relatively simple to identify if it had the sweet sweet hallucinogens I wanted.

Then it was gathering mushrooms in a tupperware, against, aided by bugs.

These mushrooms were then refined by the power of magic biology to basically just produce the one chemical I wanted. Centuries worth of selective evolution in an hour or so. Or, you know, millions of dollars in a laboratory somewhere and the tears of many, many scientists. I’d already tinkered with several types of flies and wasps to both A) be able to suck, carry and inject several microliters of any one substance and B) be able to carry other insects in a stealthy way. This, it turned out, was far easier than messing with chemical processes. Slower, but in the end it was the difference between using lego or using, well, large lego.

So I had the magic (mushroom juice), I had the stealth bomber (insects), and I had the intel (-ish).

What could have gone wrong?

A bad trip, that’s what.

With the advantage of knowing where the group was meeting up for their… stakeout, I was able to tag the ‘participants’ and get their license plate number from a block away. After that, as they slowly moved into nastier parts of town, I managed to get keep a track of them even if I lost them every now and then. All I was doing was taking a walk, absorbed by my phone. I did not get mugged. Somehow. Eventually, they paused. Smoke break.

And that was when I struck. (cigarettes. perfect cover.) In my semi-opened backpack, a tupperware with a sponge soaked in homemade energy drink had had holes poked into its cover. My stealth bombers mk1st, the Wasper-1s, picked up their cargo, the delivery ticks mk2nd, which were the Ticking-2s for the lack of a better name. Full of psilocin, because what I needed was the active compound, they departed merrily towards their targets.

In the dark of the early night, which was fairly dark in January, none of the four men, because of course there were no women, noticed camouflage-coloured insects drop several gorgeous engorged ticks (pun intended) in their hair. Every one of them got a full eight ticks in them before I felt comfortable hitting them. I needed to hit them all at the same time so that they thought that the trip had the same source (hopefully they thought of the cigarettes) but also that none of them tried looking for an outside source. And maybe noticed the beachball of bugs hovering near the corner. I did not need them on Taylor’s case. Or Taylor on my case, thank you very much a lot.

Now, magic mushroom had a lot of effects. They could make them more relaxed… or more anxious. Euphoria or, you know. Panic attacks. (on top of the heart-rate going out of control, vertigo, derealization, dilated pupils and the outright hallucinations)

People died from magic mushrooms. Usually because their sense of reality and confidence went completely out of wack. And they decided that maybe they could fly and jumped off somewhere tall without actually being parahumans. Since some of those can, in fact, fly.

I… probably underestimated how quickly the drug would act upon human perception when injected into the vessels and tissues of the head. Possibly, the tobacco helped. Or maybe they'd also partaken in some liquid courage beforehand. Regardless, that molecule crossed the blood-brain barrier like whoa!

Which started an argument, panic attack? I was too far away to listen. I did start getting some bugs on them, since I doubted they were capable of distinguishing them from fake illusionary bugs. I was unsure of whether that made things worse.

So some people might have gotten out their firearms. And, hm, shot at each other. And the air. And the car.

And that was when I had enough bugs on them to notice one of them had something on thei face.

A mask. I mean a mask.

(i knew there might be cape supervision but i did not know who or when they would appear)

Which was how I ended up with Victor dead. Yeah. Whoopsie.

---

Spoiler

i hope that's not too much biochemistry. you can tell i got myself an article on psilocybin and psilocin toxicokinetics.
that said, gymnopillum mushrooms apparently

 

9. +++ just-in-case content warnings: a bit of cannibalism

So I had a dying cape on my hands. And several dead or dying regular neo-nazis.

First, I froze. Then, I fucking cursed. Only after that did I remember that my power was literally eating people.

So, shaking like a motherfucking leaf, I darted out of my alley and into the semi-fenced off parking. My hood was in place and if people were looking through the windows, well, there were worse spots to be surveilled in.

I’d checked before sending in my bugs.

Bugs I was now using unrestrictedly. My level of coordination was not ‘skitter’. But sending orders to be obeyed like in an RTS was simple enough even for me. Waspalions, seek-and-retrieve the Waspers and Tickings. Fruitflies, map the interior of the vehicle, stat.

Four men. The driver had gotten shot through the back of his head and was slumped over the steering wheel. Behind him, the cape, only identified by the mask on his face and the way he’d brutally snapped the neck of the man next to him. The front side-seat had been the one to shoot the cape, and was still living.

Neither him nor the cape would last long. (sudden thought: I couldn’t leave any of them Alive.)

No witnesses. Oh fuck me. I’d gone out of my way to not kill anybody and ended up with four casualties? I wasn’t aware that I also ate people’s horrible luck! This was Skitter Level Unintended Escalation!

Anyway, the guy had a face destroyed by a bullet, and another lodged somewhere in his torso.

The cape had one bullet through his lower throat, one through his leg, and was bleeding heavily. Oh, the magic mushroom tachycardia, oooh. Also, just discovered, a bullet-proof vest-armour underneath his shirt, apparently. It had not helped. He had opened the car door, fallen, and was shaking or convulsing? Oh, and swearing to the high heavens with what little breath he had.

I entered hearing range. Ah.

Gun? Not in his hand. Cool.

Adrenaline, it was adrenaline. That was why I managed to run into the scene and kick him in the head like his head was a football. Soccer, as the americans say.

It, uh, ahah, it made a funny sound. Hm.

I just killed a man.

This was fine.

Oooh, that was not supposed to bend that way… no no no, focus. I needed to discover who the heck was this.

No hesitation. There’s a lot of blood around. Touch and lick and– okay. It was almost like it did not want me to taste it. A fugitive zone… a thieving zone of superstar talent. Skill vampire. Victor.

“Bloody hell, you are too useful not to…” Snack on. Best not to say it out loud. I was shaking, but I still had enough wits. I just needed to figure out how to do this.

I was not going to take a bite of a corpse. Was I? Fuck, no time. Cannibalism whoohoo.

I cupped my hands around both wounds, full of blood, and brought them directly to my mouth a couple of times. The power started setting in on the back of my head. I let it go unformed for now. Then my brand new switchblade made an appearance. There was no hair long enough to take. I… took my pound of flesh. Gosh that play was the one with the jewish merchant, right? Geezus.

Tupperware, tupperware, okay and we were done– not yet the other dude was– oh, he’d died in the meanwhile. Cool, cool.

Absconding time.

Police were certainly on the way even if the response rates in Brockton Bay were appalling!

What the fuck, what the fuckity fuck of a fucking night. It couldn’t get any worse. Well, I could still get caught, but I meant aside from this particular operation.

I got mugged ten blocks away.

---

Spoiler

it was going to happen eventually
this came to me in a flash. quite a bit of escalation.

 

[12]
As Korina’s first month in Orario wound down to a close, she spent her afternoon in checks and plans. After an early start and a morning blitz through the fourth floor, she returned to the surface to eat and went back home.

And it was a home. Remarkably quickly, she had come to think of the ruined temple as her place. Hers and Hestia’s, and potentially the place of other people as well. She stood on the other side of the street, taking a wide-lensed view of their living situation. Of course, it looked dire. Really dire. From a certain angle, the building next door wasn’t just tilted, but tilted precariously over the temple.

A while ago, Korina had cleaned up the inside of the temple’s nave, or their foyer. At the time, she’d had some ideas of what she wanted to do with the whole thing. Anyway, due to her recklessness, she’d ended up not having time to fully explore the rest of the rooms, undoubtedly full of more rotting wood, water damage and scores upon scores of bugs. And on top of that there was still the exterior to clean up, minimally, and the boulders in the yard.

Hephaestus had guaranteed the building's structural integrity and Korina didn’t doubt her. Despite looking quite ratty, her preliminary check-up had revealed that the walls were brick-backed stone, and well made ones at that. The mortar used was also of great quality. To be truthful, Hestia had been the one to thoroughly investigate that. She’d also chatted up some builders about it. Korina had bowed to her expertise. So the building would not fall. But if the interior masonry was good, a great deal of the exterior masonry was damaged.

That was one of the day’s main goals: to do an inspection of the temple’s exterior and note down her findings.

Korina drummed her fingers on her notebook, pencil twirling. She was ready.

***
“So in effect, these are the stones that urgently need an intervention, so the ones in critical spots that look really bad; these are the ones that should get replaced but are in an inconvenient spot, usually on the lower level; and these are the ones that we don’t need to worry about within the year. If they fall, it’ll probably not matter. Unless they fall on somebody, but that’s a different problem.”

Hestia hummed deeply, looking over Korina’s findings. “I thought so. It really isn’t in that bad of a state, now is it?”

“Ah, I seem to recall my goddess’ initial enthusiasm to be–” An elbow cut her off.

“Kori!”

The were-tigress nodded slowly, eyes half-lidded. “Of course, of course, I would never imply my goddess did not like her best friend’s gift.”

“That is cheating, and you know it.” Hestia said. “Now, I suppose that means we’ll spend less on repairs…” The goddess thought back to the numbers she’d been given off-handedly. “Well, I suppose we’ll manage to convince somebody to give these worst spots some… reinforcement.” The worst spots were the worst because they would involve dismantling big parts of the building to get at them. They could be temporarily patched by shoving in cement, but that was really only a temporary fix that could make things work if done improperly.

Korina continued. “So, that took most of the day, because I had to build myself a ladder and harness to get to the roof.”

“You were careful?”

“I was careful. Got a scare at seeing the tiles, which is our next point: the roof. Actually, back to the walls.” She flipped a page and pointed out a much smaller number. “This is what I could find on the inside. A few cracked bricks on the worst corner, otherwise we’re practically golden. The second-floor open, hm…”

“Mezzanine.” Hestia raised one smug finger.

“Thank you, milady architect, the second floor mezzanine. Or rather, there used to be a mezzanine. Now there’s only the remains of the…?”

“The joists.” Hestia crossed her arms. “Yes, I noticed before. It looks like most of them rotted and were removed. But the supporting rims are in stone, so that will help if we decide to rebuild the second floor. I’d get a second opinion on whether those rims can support an entire second-floor.”

Korina nodded. “Yeah. The mezzanine was probably only used for services… getting to the bell-tower for one. Anyway, visually from down here, it looks like there’s more damage on the roof level, but I can’t be sure. Anyway, the longer we have a leaky roof and missing tiles, the more damage will be done to the wood framing beneath. And the roof isn’t in great shape. I mean, I didn’t count tiles, but we have at least three big holes and a lot of displaced tiles that will let rain in.”

Hestia sank deeper into their ratty coach. “Nooo… like this we’ll constantly be doing little repairs here and then there and we’ll ever get anything done.”

“Ah, my goddess has learned the ways of the money. Huff.” Another pointed elbow to the ribs.

“Why don’t you continue then, Master Planner Kora?” Hestia glared, pouting.

“Well, my conclusion is… we’re screwed until we get more income.” “I knew it!” “Anyway, about the roof, I can try to patch the worse holes with our spare materials, at least when the weather worsens.”

Thankfully, the worst of winter was past them. Both goddess and adventuress agreed that a professional should take a look at the worst areas and, with a sigh, marked it down into as expected future expenses.

“So, final details before we move onto better things.” Korina tapped her notebook. “The bell looks to be in perfect condition. I’ll get up there tomorrow and see if I can get it down because first, it’s a very nice bell, and second, it gives me anxiety to think it could fall on our heads one day.” The bell was good, but she did not trust what it was attached to. “Since I’ll be going into the belltower, I’ll also try and get the decoration it has on top out. It’s not doing anything there.”

“It is kind of ugly.” “More scrap metal for me.”

As agreed, such was marked down.

“Okay!” Hestia threw up her arms. “The good things now!” She’d honestly been expecting a lot worse news.

Korina turned a page. “Cleared out the side rooms of the temple, that’s done. Also removed all the broken glass from the windows, it’s no longer a major hazard. We don’t have a rat infestation, because there’s a lot of cats in the neighborhood. You verified we were indeed connected to the city’s sewer system, which was a relief.”

“Argh…” Hestia wilted just thinking about the bureaucratic nightmare that had been to verify. It was only a basic connection that could be expanded, but the newly money-aware goddess had shied from it like a mouse from a lion.

“And our chimney is tip-top.” The weretiger gave her a thumbs up. “So in conclusion, our home is in an okay shape for short-term living, bad shape for anything long-term. The repair costs are likely to be astronomical, but we don’t have anything too urgent on that list.” Barring any sudden magic device malfunctions. “Rebuilding would be the best, safest option but, well…” The price was scary to think about.

A contemplative silence stretched for a few moments as both of them ruminated all that information.

Hestia opened one eye. “So does that mean we can’t show the future plans then?”

“No way, I had too much fun thinking about this.” Her child opened her notebook to a section full of scribbles and sketches, tail tip wagging predatorily.

Hestia drew a roll of papers from behind her back. “Bow before the expertise of a goddess of architecture!”

The fun part about knowing how bad their living space was, was thinking of how much better it could be in the future. Both of them had several ideas. Korina was in favor of keeping the original structure of the temple, but Hestia was adamant on widening the nave with a couple of aisles, and maybe add a third floor. Hestia didn’t particularly care about the belltower but Korina was certain that it should be converted into a watchtower. Ideas for the yard were as numerous as weeds in both their heads.

After much compromise, their desired space looked something like so: Rather than extending the building sideways, it would extend towards the back.

The entrance and nave would remain an open space, for meals, gathering around and receiving guests. Small and large tables, couches and recreational bookcases all over. Some beams rising from the floor would help support a larger mezzanine on the second floor, if anybody wanted a quieter environment. The belltower would ideally be expanded upwards and reinforced, leaving it as the best place with a view, or as an emergency watchtower. Perhaps the bell could be set over the open floor space, and serve as a rallying call. It wasn’t like they’d tested what the bell sounded like, yet.

The space currently occupied with the altar would be turned into a hearth, bookending the entrance. Korina was mullish about that point. A goddess of the hearth required a good hearth. Hestia did not cry, absolutely not. At that point, where the temple currently had a couple of side rooms, and the entrance into their underground secure space, a door on each side would lead into hee new building. Three floors would be good, rising higher than the existing construction but not too much. It would be larger as well. Using the existing chimney, the kitchens would be located behind the hearth. A simple floor plan with two hallways that met at the back, a staircase at each end of the building. Rooms with windows for habitation along the hallways, and between them spaces like offices, bathrooms, armories, libraries… A basement floor for storage. The safe room should be maintained as was, refurbished.

Outside, a good training yard, a smithy and useful gardens. All the buildings around them were derelict, so there was space for expansion.

It was a good dream.

***
“Let’s review things.” Eina Tulle sat down with a huff after a tiring day. She did not have to meet with the adventurers she advised after her work-hours were done. Korina appreciated it nonetheless, although she had made it clear she could have this meeting another day. But Eina was also a stubborn woman.

So Korina didn’t protest too much. She’d also had a long day learning all sorts of lessons about physics, namely gravity and inertia. She’d gotten bigger bruises than most days she went to the dungeon. To be fair, the dungeon had yet to throw heights at her. The weretigress had avoided broken bones by virtue of forethought, her harness having saved her from falling from the roof several times. Instead, she just had a few large contusions and rope-burns.

A bronze bell was carefully packed away in their room, and a solid brass ornament was awaiting dismantling in her makeshift forge. A better bounty than she had expected, but also one that had torn a hole through the roof and broken part of the stone flooring.

“I brought graphs.” The adventurer brandished a notebook with a small smile.

Tulle ignored her.

“Korina, you’ve been an adventurer for one month now. Maximum floor reach is the lower seventh with your party, and the lower fifth on your own.” An irritated sigh escaped the half-elf’s lips. “Fortunately, that was a one time occasion and you haven’t gone deeper than the lower fourth alone. How is it with Mr. Crozzo?”

“We usually work on the seventh now. For about a week, I’d say.” Korina consulted her notes. “That’s right. We’ve been getting used to the seventh. Next week we’ll test out the path to the Eighth first, then we’ll establish a short route through that floor.” The lower eighth floor was deep enough that travel times to and from the surface had to start being seriously taken into account.

“Well, I suppose it’s alright since your party leader is stuck on the ninth…” Eina muttered to herself before giving her an ultimatum. “But no lower than the eighth. You’ll get my permission before going deeper.”

Korina raised an eyebrow and shrugged in half-agreement. “Well, for the next month, Welf and I want to get used to going regularly to the eighth floor. And for me to start seriously taking on the fifth. We’ll be building up for that. The plan is to get the rest of my armor done and then evaluating our chances.”

Eina hummed. “Ah, that leaves me minimally comfortable. I was going to ask about the situation with your equipment. Remember to always carry potions and antidotes with you. Even if you have healing magic.” She insisted, brow furrowed.

“I will. Both of us, don’t worry.” “That’s impossible.”

“Anyway, I’ll give you the references for monsters between the fifth and ninth. I expect you’ll study them diligently?” She seemed satisfied at Korina’s confirmation. “I will be testing that. Now, I don’t want to press, but since you’ve been forthcoming about your abilities, could I know where you stand? It will help to give me an idea of your capabilities and what you might need to be more careful about.” Having lower endurance or lower agility impacted what an adventurers would need to be more wary of depending on the foes encountered. Past goblins and kobolds, this sort of strategizing was also a fundamental part of preparing for the dungeon.

The weretigress had no issues. Truth be told, her skills were much more important to keep secret than her basic abilities. “I have all abilities at H rank, except for agility which is around 80. And magic is around 190, so I’m expecting to raise it to G rank within the next week.” She would be disappointed if she didn’t, considering half her fighting style revolved around her spells.

Eina’s jaw had dropped the barest amount and her eyes were wide. Her mind rapidly calculated what that meant. At least six hundred points in one month! Even if she was older for an adventurer and a recent level 1, both characteristics more prone to a rapid growth, these were the kinds of stats that elite adventurers boasted to have started with. Such an even distribution was rare too. She wondered if she could consult the files of adventurers like the Sword Princess or such others to compare their initial times as well… She shook her head.

She hadn’t thought Korina was that talented. Rather, she thought the weretiger had been pushing it, relying on her more experienced partner. But that strategy wouldn’t have earned her this much excelia. She believed Korina nevertheless, the adventurer having been incredibly open with Eina.

“Is something wrong?” Korina had taken notice of her deepening frown.

“No, no… It’s good. I will be expecting you to start slowing down soon, but still… it’s remarkable.”

Korina had sort of expected that. She also thought she would take a bit longer to hit the wall. The fact seemed to be that using items she had made herself to fight seemed to impact her gains less than using somebody else’s items would have. It made sense, because they were part of her achievements.

That wasn’t something that she was ready to reveal any time soon, in any way, shape or form. Tilting her head, she considered her advisor for a long moment. “Well. I suppose I can tell you about my skill if this information does not appear anywhere.”

Eina straightened her back, hands raised as if to ward her off. “No, that will not be necessary! I’m not trying to get that sort of information, I swear.” As a Guild worker, she had to be very careful about such things. This adventurer of hers was already a little bit too open with her. Her progress, both in the dungeon and of her status, was at Eina’s disposal. With graphs. She even had a minimal idea of the weretiger’s magic.

“No, I’ve decided it’s probably for the best.” Korina shook her head. She opened her notebook to write down a condensed version of Wound. The important part was the practical effect.

Eina sighed nervously and cleaned her glasses reflexively. When Korina presented the paper for her to read, her eyebrows jumped up then down, a hand coming down to cover her mouth. “Oh. Oh… That skill is…” Her experience with the dungeon, despite being all external, told her more than enough about both the usefulness and danger of this skill. The advisor took a deep breath. “How… strong is the effect?”

As a professional, her duty was to use this information to personalize the help she gave her assigned adventurer.

Korina shook her head. “Don’t think I can measure it, it’s… variable. But I was keeping up with Welf better and better the deeper we went.” Other factors seemed to be her mental state. The Wound was a wound, after all.

---

Going to stop having author notes in spoilers. (nobody reads this thread anyway)​

I had a looot of fun researching for the church plan. Also, the old church is such a wasted part of the setting. Seriously, the Hearth Mansion is... boring. Architecturally and storywise, it's really, really, really boring. Compared with the Twilight Manor and it's towers. Hestia familia is boooring. Such a goddamned waste.​

 

Chapter One!
Reborn somewhere I should probably remember!​

“Hmmm.” The white-eyed ninja said as he scrutinized my ‘chakra pathways’ with his ‘all-seeing eyes’. “I see.”

He saw. He saw… “What? What’s wrong with my chakra?”

The ninja didn’t move a single inch, his eyes unmoving, as he spoke to the ninja doctor and the ninja teacher that were accompanying me in the hospital. I wasn’t hurt. However, somebody had finally realized that my failure to do the simplest of chakra exercises right might mean there was an underlying problem with my body. Not that I was being lazy or slow.

I very much doubted I was slow or lazy, because secretly, I was a twenty-something person who’d been reborn in another world!

It’d all started a lifetime ago. Well, when that life ended abruptly and painfully. I remembered I was on vacations with my recently obtained money from my first job. I went somewhere and then… then the building collapsed. My guess was that an earthquake must have hit us and then, logically, a lot of people had died because the buildings weren’t up to code.

I wasn’t fond of remembering this part of the story. But it should have ended there.

Eight years ago, the Kyuubi no Youko attacked Konohagakure no Sato… a nine-tailed demon fox attacked the leaf village. Many people died trying to stop the fox, until the Fourth Hokage managed to banish it. And… many people died, ninjas and villagers alike. In the aftermath, they managed to retrieve a baby from a collapsed building, bleeding from a single wound on her forehead. Her mother had protected her six-month old daughter with her body and life, and her father was later identified amidst those lost in the attack.

She was called Haruno Sakura.

And whatever future she had, it was co-opted by my incomplete memories. Now if only I could figure out why there was such a nagging sense of familiarity about my story…

“The chakra pathways are… out of place.” Back in the present, the Hyuuga described my problem. His clan, apparently, were the only ones with these special eyes that could see the chakra pathways. “I’ve never seen anything like this. Her tenketsu are not where they should be, and the pathways themselves are misaligned.”

“That’s not possible.” The medic-nin beside me was bewildered. “Everybody has a natural variance in their pathways, are you sure…?”

“Yes, I am sure.” The white-eyed ninja released his doujutsu and turned to the doctor. “This is no mere variance. Even the Eight Gates are not where they should be! The classical map of chakra pathways they teach you medics is entirely useless.”

“Hm.” I raised my hand. The adults quieted down and looked at me. “Is that bad for my body and doctors? It sounds bad for my body and doctors.”

He shook his head. “No, most healing… well, medical ninjutsu doesn’t need your chakra pathways to be in a specific place, that shouldn’t be a problem.” Even as he said that, I noticed that the doctor was writing down notes on my files. “However, this is why you cannot use normal jutsu, Haruno-kun. Normal jutsu and handseals are made for chakra pathways that follow a certain… type of map. Your pathways follow a completely different type of map, so you can’t do what the teachers tell you to because their explanations don’t work for you.”

The doctor muttered something too low for me to hear, but I had the distinct feeling that it was something like ‘probably’.

It was best not to dwell on that. “Does that mean I can’t be a ninja?” Because that would suck.

The adults exchanged looks among themselves. “Well… no?” The white-eyed man sounded uncertain. “Her chakra is there, she just can’t mold it the way we can.”

“I have a boy in the year above her that can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu.” The teacher that had come with me spoke up. This was new information to me.

My head swiveled back and forth as the adults discussed my situation. I was an orphan, daughter of ninjas, therefore I had been enrolled at the Academy. To their credit, they’d asked a five year old child if she’d like to be a ninja like her parents had been. I’d said yes after only a moment of thought.

I hadn’t been reborn, or gained memories of my past, or whatever sorcery had put me in Konoha, without being blessed with strange and unknowable powers. It would be counterintuitive to not pursue a career path that would let me use them. Also, magical ninjas mercenaries.

My consultation ended with me more or less where I'd been before. I was still going to go to school at the Academy. Now they were just expecting me to work extra hard, and the teachers were left with vague instructions to ‘let me figure out jutsu my own way’.

On the way home, following next to my tired teacher, I looked up at the four faces carved into the mountain that overlooked the village. The Hokage was the strongest ninja in Konoha, and much like a president, they got their faces sculpted so everybody could look up at them. They said the Hokages looked out for us like this. Every now and then, a ninja bounded over the rooftops, moving at incredible speeds to and fro. I couldn’t lie, I yearned for that. Being able to be that free, and to be that strong.

I’d tried their way. My power had obviously interfered in some way. It was time to try it my way.

---

18.Apr.2023: timeline edit, all references to Sakura being 7 y.o. changed to 8 y.o.
All things start with SIs then transition to SI-OCs. First time I do a Sakura fic. Or a fic set in Naruto, by the way.
This power was intended for a worm SI that never went anywhere. I reused bits of it for Monsterability. This is the parred down, original version which... doesn't even feature in this chapter. Lovely.​

 

Chapter Two!
The mysterious power wants my piggybank!​

Home was a sort of orphanage-slash-way-house where I and several other children lived. I’d gotten moved here after leaving the orphanage, which was for really small children. From my observations of the other kids around, in two or three years I would be leaving this place too. If not sooner. Some children got scouted into apprenticeships, like weaving or blacksmithing or carpentry, and they left to live with their masters. If I did manage to graduate as a ninja, I would also be considered emancipated, or adult, and would also leave.

The house had two floors. The upper floor was taken up by everybody’s rooms, one for the boys, one for the girls, and one for the adults. One shared bathroom for us all and one for the adults, who opened it up for the older kids to use after them. This way, a bloodbath was avoided every morning. The ground floor had a big kitchen and a big living room. So long as you followed the rules the woman in charge laid down, it was an okay place. A bit stifling. I had to try really hard to keep my knees from bouncing or my foot from tapping at dinner time. Otherwise I could go hungry for a bit.

“Hey, scar-head! Did they kick you out of the Academy?”

Oh, and then there was the general name-calling and judging that was typical from humans at this age. I didn’t even bother responding, but I did wish I had earphones. Music of any sort. Only three other children were in the Academy with me, and they weren’t in my year.

When they’d dug me out of the rubble that fateful day, I’d been injured. I didn’t remember that day very well, since I’d been six months old. It was, on the other hand, my first clear memory from after my first life. There was pain, panic and I’d cried a lot. Enough that the ninjas had been able to locate me quickly. But not quickly enough to avoid getting a scar right in the middle of my forehead. Head wound, it bled a lot but wasn’t too serious, and the on the spot healing I’d received had left a very noticeable scar.

Scars were badass. I stood by that principle. I looked like an anime character twice over. Not only was my hair naturally pink like my namesake, I also had really bright green. A cross-shaped scar, like that anti-hero from an anime long ago, was the cherry on top.

I climbed up the stairs to our rooms. Since I was a quiet, well-behaved kid that just had a bit too much energy, I was allowed that. I threw myself on my bed, grabbed my one plushie, and crawled under the covers so I could think better. Being comfortable was key.

Regarding my power: I’d always had this feeling that there was something inside of me, in my head, that hadn’t been there in my life before. Like a metaphysical itch. First I thought it was just the same chakra that everybody had here. But then I got taught how to check my own chakra and it definitely wasn’t that. Chakra was extra energy you felt inside yourself, almost weighing inside the stomach, and was really tricky to get a hold of. Supposedly, a ninja could fan their chakra engine and get more chakra. But my power was entirely mental. There was no physical component at all.

It had gotten much clearer in my head after I’d started understanding chakra. The meditation exercises they taught at the Academy worked for something, at least. Perhaps it had to do with the spiritual energy that made up half of all chakra. Or maybe it was my eight-year old brain that was getting better at thinking. Now that I had a better sense of the power, I could tell it was composed of two parts. The first felt empty. It had space. The second was the itchy one. That one wanted me to do something about it.

So I poked at it. Like carefully going around, scratching with the tip of my nail. It kept slipping, like an edge you just couldn't pry open. It was really, really, really frustrating!

“Shah! Work damn it!” And then it did.

I stared at the ceiling. I had done it? I had! Finally! My power presented itself to me, fuzzy but clearing up piece by piece. It felt like a spark, a warm, wild spark that…

“Wait.”

The spark laughed at me from a distance. Gimme, it seemed to say. I shook my head. A headache was building, my nose was itching and–

“Achoo!”

Something snapped into place and an image crystalized in my head. A panel, advertising the power and abilities of the monsters I’d known best in the world before. Pokemon. Unreal… and it just cost… it cost. One thousand ryou. Each random, blind, little bit of power. Just the price of… I didn’t even know. A whole set of brand new kunai and shuriken? A meal at a high-end restaurant?

I stared. Twitched. Blinked.

But no. My power was still telling me the same thing. If I wanted nifty little gifts, I was going to have to play the game. A gacha game.

Me. The state-sustained orphan who didn’t even have an allowance yet.

Well, I guess I had an excuse to be crying at dinner tonight after all.

---

18.Apr.2023: timeline edit, all references to Sakura being 7 y.o. changed to 8 y.o.
Ryo to Yen to Euro conversions are an exercise in futility. For simplicity's sake, a ryo is 10 cents. So each pull requires 100€. Yes, it's a lot, but I discovered that D-rank missions pay from 5000 to 50000. Even if you split it by three genin, that's 160€ minimum. And 1600€ max.
It's got to be something about the ninja efficiency or it would not make sense. D-ranks will henceforth be boring, non-combat, shinobi using jutsu for civil construction kind of deals.​

 

Chapter Three!
The result of hard work is too strange!​

“There. It’s done.” I saluted to Kanetake-san, the kind old man who’d hired me. “Your garden has been cleaned and the garbage is outside.”

“Practicing to be a ninja so early.” He laughed. “Well, you’ve earned it with your efforts. Here’s your payment.” A generous bill was placed in my eagerly cupped hands. For an eight year old, fifty ryou was a small fortune. To me, it was just five percent of what I needed.

Today I received the last fifty ryou I needed to finally use my power. Six months had passed since I discovered my power’s greatest limitation. The year was coming to a close. After realizing I was going to have to move it, I started to look around for odd jobs. Little chores that people would be willing to pay a pittance to a kid that needed pocket money. It was a slow process.

One, in the neighborhood, there weren’t a lot of people willing to pay. Then, those that were had tasks that were too much for my small body and assigned age.

Two, since my problems with chakra were discovered, the Academy required more of my time. I had to have good grades, and everything was in a language that had two alphabets. One of which had thousands of different characters. My brain didn’t like it. The only educational silver lining was that I was fully immersed in the language and didn’t have a choice about it. On top of that, I was expected to really focus on taijutsu or hand-to-hand combat like the boy Rock Lee in the year above me. I had to spend extra time exercising and practicing katas.

A few times per week, I got paid a few dozen ryou. Enough for candy if I was a normal child. Saving up had been the hard part. I didn’t want people to start asking weird questions about where I spent so much money, so I couldn't ask the matron to hold it for me. Places in the house weren't safe either, and I'd lost several hundred ryou to somebody’s sticky hands. That was the one time I got into a fight, but Takeru deserved it. Even the punishment was worth it, especially since people knew he was a dirty thief who’d taken the money from a hard-working, forward-thinking little girl.

The solution was to just carry the money in my pouch everywhere. Nobody robbed a seven year old, most other kids didn't even imagine the amount of money I lugged around, and I spent a few here and there to give the illusion that I wasn't saving up. I just had to be careful to trade my coin excess for bills so that I wasn’t clanking around like a piggy bank.

I felt like cackling. Months of work, more than one setback, and finally, it was time. Unlimited power awaited me!

Bowing to Kanetake-san, who had back pains and had turned into a regular client, I dashed off to the open fields near the Academy. The ones for my age, which I could enter without weird looks, were effectively big, mostly empty playgrounds. I found a tree on the edge and sat down cross-legged.

Hands shoved in my pouch, I looked for the now familiar mental spark. It was greedy and wanted my money. "You’re in luck today. Take my money!"

My pouch was suddenly lighter. A ringing like a coin twirling on the ground filled my head. The empty space inside was no longer empty, a familiar creature slotting itself in a mental shelf. A white seal with a horn. Seel, the Sea Lion. Or, the way my brain insisted, Pawou.

I blinked. "Huh, okay? That's not bad but what can I do with you?" Could I summon Pawou now?

I eyed the empty grounds. The sun was setting and the temperature was quickly dropping. Nobody was watching. Nobody was at the windows of the nearby building. Nobody was traveling through the rooftops that I could see. It would have to do. I got up, dusted the back of my trousers. Got to be careful with clothes.

I thought for a moment before I squared my feet and formed the handseal of confrontation. It was the basic handseal to rouse chakra, among other things, and the only one I knew sort of worked for me. It was a concentration mnemonic too, one I used every day. Then I closed my eyes and focussed on the image of Pawou in my head, hard.

It felt much more natural than the few chakra exercises we'd been taught. Almost second nature.

"Pawoooouuu!?"

And then, with a pop, I was a Pawou. Tail, fangs, flippers, whiskers and all. I literally flopped on the ground. I twisted around, belly up, and pulled my tail up so I could see it. “Awou??”

What. Henge?! How? Why? Why not? … Now what?

There was enough time for me to blink stupidly before another pop, leaving my regular human self sprawled on the ground, legs and arms pointed at the sky. I let my limbs fall.

A moment of silence while I processed. I rubbed my eyes, blinked again, counted my fingers then sat up to count my toes. "Yeah, okay… That was… a thing."

---

18.Apr.2023: timeline edit, all references to Sakura being 7 y.o. changed to 8 y.o.
The power in question. Because it's Naruto, I feel like there should be a measurable quantity of gratuitous japanese mixed in. Hence, Sakura's brain wants her to use the japanese names for everything.
The little hustler is making awesome money for a kid. She's also currently discount Rock Lee, which obviously has implications for her friendships at the Academy, aside from the personality changes.​

 

Chapter Four!
The decision to be the strongest!​

"I want to stay at the Academy and become a ninja." I remembered insisting another time. "I know it will be hard but still."

Haruno Sakura had turned nine in March, just after the school year ended. My birthday was always during the vacation weeks before the Academy reopened. I was always one of the oldest kids in class. The fourth year, they’d said, things started getting really hard, and much harder to quit. That day, I was being encouraged to give it up. Hints had already been dropping throughout the year.

The chuunin teacher visiting the house had rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You are a hard-worker, Sakura. You can find another path to pursue. You've proven to be good at things like gardening and taking care of animals. You could choose to apprentice under a gardener or to study to become a veterinary."

"That's because I want to buy my own stuff, not because I don't want to be a ninja." Also, I would have to put myself in debt, or contract, to afford that kind of education. They hadn't told me that, of course.

I liked learning the ninja craft, even with the undeniable fact that we were junior soldiers. There was no war and I liked pushing myself and fighting. In the end, they’d quit and gone back. I was remembering that day because, for the first time, something had shaken my conviction.

A massacre.

I twirled a ryou coin between my fingers. We were all forbidden from leaving the house for now. It'd been two days since that had happened. Nobody had told us children anything, but the adults couldn’t stop talking about it themselves and it naturally trickled down to our ears. Among the kids of the house, it was a poorly hidden gossip topic. They were still children, civilians at that, and couldn’t grasp what those words really meant.

A massacre. It wasn’t a word used for a normal killing. It was a brutal, systematic extermination. It sent shivers down my spine, and the context of it only made me sick. A prodigy of the Uchiha Clan had… snapped… and killed his family. His entire clan, elders to toddlers. Genocidal in his madness. There were rumors of a sole survivor.

A ninja had done that. A ninja had been so affected, so traumatized by his job, that he'd snapped seemingly out of nowhere. He'd been ANBU, which people weren't really meant to think too hard about, and that meant not just elite bodyguards and. It meant assassinations too. It was in the name, a so-propagandized legacy.

That had been the result of being a Konoha shinobi. Of course, Uchiha Itachi could have just been a secret psychopath all along, but still, it made you think.

Soldiers are cool and all, but they’re the ones that go overseas with dreams and return with PTSD.

Was it worth being a ninja, a shinobi? I wasn’t sure.

But there was another thing that scared me. People were strong here. Hideously so. When the books said First Hokage had made a forest sprout for the village in a matter of minutes, they were being literal. I lived in this world. A world where a single man had decimated his clan, which included almost the entirety of the police forces of Konoha. A world where there were other ninja villages and rivals and even enemies, who were certainly smelling the blood in the water.

The world that had turned, in one single night, suddenly unsafe.

Unless I was strong. The strongest.

It wasn’t impossible. My power was Pokemon. Creatures that could fly, go through walls, live under the ocean, manipulate the elements, read minds, teleport, heal, reshape continents. Three generations of power were within reach.

I was weak now, because I was poor. But I knew how my power worked after a few months of experimenting with it and crucially, I knew its limits. I could transform into pokemon and I could use their moves as a human. Each time I got a pokemon, they went from non-existent to level five. Then ten, and so forth. The higher the level, the more I could do it and the stronger I was. At level five, I could transform for six seconds a day, and using a move was only doable once per hour.

I could be very strong, if I dared. If I put my nose to the grinder and spent all my money, I’d eventually get there. It would take me millions, a tightrope budget, and a good amount of luck, but it was possible.

Did I dare, rather than vanish into an obscure, seemingly safe civilian life?

I felt the money clutched in my hand disappear, those coins and bills I’d been painstakingly saving up. My third use of my power.

I did.

“Pffft. Oh come on.” My hand met my face. Making such a bold declaration and this was what I got? This?

---

18.Apr.2023: timeline edit, all references to Sakura being 8 y.o. changed to 9 y.o. The Uchiha Massacre occurs when Sasuke is 8 1/2 y.o.
The massacre was going to need to be addressed, especially from a pov that doesn't know what happened. It serves as a good motivation turning point. Sasuke is stated to be 7 when the massacre occurs but there's some wiggly room for him to be eight. Sakura's birthday made hell out of the timeline calculations because of the japanese school calendar.
By the by, she got Spoink. ~spoink~! And her second was Chimecho. As one can see, nothing too impressive looking in the face of Uchiha Itachi's deeds.​

 

Chapter Five!
Forehead, Scarhead, girls can’t leave it alone!​

Ninja education introduced, during the fourth year, a class I hadn’t been expecting. Kunoichi class.

Womanly-girl-ninja studies.

If we were older, I’m sure it would have things like seduction or something distasteful like that. Because we were nine at our oldest, it was about paying attention without looking like we were paying attention and artisan or homemaking skills that would have us go by undetected and underestimated. To civilians and to most lower ranked ninjas, that was.

Our teacher had given us a good example. She’d asked us to try and remember the face of the last woman with a stroller that we’d seen. Naturally, we couldn’t. I, like many others, couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen a stroller. Then she’d used Henge no Jutsu and turned into a very familiar woman. We’d been struck dumb. It had been the best lesson we could have had on awareness.

Suzume-sensei was kind of awesome like that, even if I disliked her classes. I did not like having to play into the sexism inherent in society.

To be fair to Suzume-sensei, she’d also never singled me out, neither for my behavior, nor for my appearance. She’d occasionally talked to me in the halls to encourage me to try harder in her class, but I think she’d realized that my focus on taijutsu to compensate for my deficiency was my priority. I couldn’t say the same thing about the students.

Girl on girl fighting had become very common. Perhaps it was the start of puppy crushes and the sudden crunch in our numbers. It definitely had something to do with Uchiha Sasuke.

The kid, the only survivor, had returned to school with a blank face and even more drive. He was traumatized and surely angling for either revenge or survival. And, in the eyes of nine year olds, he was very, very cool. Good-looking, strong, mature for his age and, I believe, some part of most girls saw him and went ‘I can fix him’.

I was already kind of bullied in a quiet way, just nasty comments here and there. I didn’t care or have time to care, so it mostly went over my head. But now, when everybody was looking to eliminate the competition… Puberty was going to be so not fun.

Which brought me to today and Suzume-sensei’s very useful class on makeup. The usual suspects weren’t even bothering to pipe down in front of the teacher.

“Can’t hide a forehead that big.” “It’s not like she’d be useful, anyway.” “Muscle-head.” “Target-face.” “Ugly.”

Chicks dig scars, I felt like telling them. Especially shounen-protagonist type scars. I showed it off to the world, since I liked having my hair out of my face, and rarely had it untied. The name-calling would probably hurt if, you know, I didn’t have most of the maturity of a twenty-something person in this tiny body. It was just very, very annoying.

“Fuki, do you have anything you want to say to the rest of the class?” Suzume-sensei’s voice rose above the usual chatter, killing it dead.

I suppressed the urge to sigh.

Put on the spotlight, Fuki tried bravely to defend herself. “W-well, Sensei, we, I was just wondering how Sakura would manage to disguise herself since she has that huge scar!”

Suzume-sensei was expressionless as she motioned for me to approach her. I resisted the urge to plod as I made my way to the front of the class and sat in front of her. She winked at me, then told me to close my eyes. The pass of the brush was soft as she expertly applied and worked the pigments onto my face. Her hands were steady but strangely, not very calloused. Ah, I thought, maybe that was one of the things that could give away a kunoichi.

“There, done.” She said and turned me around to face the class. Oohs and aahs broke out. I didn’t need a mirror to tell me that my scar had probably vanished as if by magic. I reached for a mirror anyway. My face was smooth but otherwise entirely unchanged. The cross-shaped starburst that made shallow divots over my eyebrows was gone. I couldn’t see how she’d done it. Makeup magic. “A skilled kunoichi doesn’t need genjutsu. Makeup is just as effective a tool as a shuriken.”

“That almost makes me want to be good at these things like you, Sensei.” I told her. She shook her head at me. “Can I have my face back, this is a bit weird.” I’d never seen my forehead unmarked in this body. It was really weird.

It seemed to quell the idiots in the room, so I counted that as a win.

“Sakura looked so happy, she was going to cry.” “Maybe she thought somebody would finally find her pretty.” “Don’t joke around, who’d kiss a scary face like hers anyway?”

For about five minutes past the bell. Okay, that was enough, the lesson clearly wasn’t sticking. I stopped, marched over to the four girls snipping and crossed my arms, saying. “Do you have a problem with my face?”

Fuki and Ami seemed taken aback. Kasumi rallied. “Yeah, I do. Your mug is just too ugly. How about you quit and go running home?” Then she smirked, pleased with herself, and crossed the line. “Not like you have a mama to go cry to.”

I blinked. Orphan jokes. Of all the things. My jaw worked as they laughed. Several insults came to mind, but I was just a bit too shocked they’d actually dared. I didn’t have any strong feelings about being an orphan. I’d grieved my past family years ago. But Haruno Sakura… she deserved better. Mebuki and Kizashi deserved to be missed.

“Oh yeah, I have a problem with your face too, you round-shit, pug-faced, onigiri-head. Fart-hair.” I improvised. “How about you look in the mirror sometimes, huh? Guess the mirror is just going to tell you to fuck off before you break it with your uglyness in your heart. You bitch … cow.”

I wasn’t good at improvising. But I knew more swears then all of these kids combined.

“You, you…” Kasumi had actually taken a step back. Her face colored red. Everybody in hearing range was gasping.

I put my middle fingers up. “How about you go cry to mommy, fuckface.”

---

18.Apr.2023: timeline edit, all references to Sakura being 8 y.o. changed to 9 y.o.
I don't even know, it was a fun segue to Sakura getting into a fight. Somehow both my SIOC pokemon crosses have a kid cursing at other kids. To be fair, most of this is canon to Naruto.​

 

Chapter Six!
Playground showdown, beginning of the Hard-Headed Demon legend!​

We almost starting brawling then and there. I managed to throw down the gauntlet. “You and me, or are you too much of a coward? Chicken, chicken, bawk, bawk!”

We headed out to the closest training field, just outside the classrooms. The rest of the class was encouraging us in turns. Bloodthirsty little tykes. We were in the middle of a makeshift ring.

Kasumi probably knew I was better than her in taijutsu. She was just too angry to make that judgment call. To be fair, I’d also gotten angry and failed the judgment call to not start a fight. I could beat Kasumi, or Fuki, or Ami. All of them at once, not likely.

I grinned and made a come hither motion before the seal of confrontation. It didn’t really apply to the situation but well, force of habit.

Kasumi responded curtly before launching an all-out attack. I hopped sideways, guard up. She was taller than me, which made her a bit stronger. I swayed playfully. But I was quicker and more skilled. I jabbed at her guard, testing it. I could probably use a move… Seel and Headbutt, Chimecho and Wrap, Spink and Splash. Wrap?

She kicked, breaking my distracted stance. I retreated. “Come here you coward!”

“Bitch, I ain’t gone nowhere!” One of my jabs slipped through and snatched some of her hairs.

“Ow!”

I laughed. It was kind of fun when she was this mad. If she got me tho… well, I didn’t want that.

I’d thought about Wrap but that was a bad idea. I still wanted to use a move. To finish her and have them know that I was strong. Splash was useless, of course. But my first move was strong and terribly appropriate.

I planted my feet and raised my arms in a bastardized boxing stance. Blinded by rage, Kasumi didn’t see the trap for what it was and charged. I waited until the very last moment. Nômaru-ton… Reeled back, aimed and smashed my head into hers.

“Zutsuki no Waza!”

My forehead impacted the crown of her head with a loud crack. Kasumi crashed down like a rock, face-first into the ground.

I straightened up slowly. My marked forehead glinted, immaculate, not even red. A move that should have ended on a double-knockout left only one standing. Kasumi was out. I was the winner.

Cheers and yells broke out.

Headbutt was Seel’s only known move. Powerful and, unlike Head Smash, I didn’t take any recoil damage. This much let me walk out unscathed.

Kasumi however… Headbutt was a power 70 move. I kneeled down. She was completely unconscious.

I… might have overdone it.

“Hey, one of you call a teacher! Kasumi needs the nurse!” Or a doctor. The adrenaline was fading and I got more and more worried that I’d seriously hurt her. I hoped I hadn't given her…

“...a cracked skull.” The nurse informed me in the office. Suzume-sensei and Mizuki-sensei were present.

Crap.

I’d messed up. I told my story, word for word, and apologized. Several people corroborated it. Since it was my first offense, and the bullying had already been pointed out, I got away with a slap on the wrist. Just staying after school to help out, and writing graded essays about what I’d done wrong.

Kasumi’s mother wanted my head on a stick. That worked out in my favor since Kasumi actually dropped out. A cracked skull and a resounding defeat were too harsh of a shock to her system. And the ninjas in charge wouldn’t do anything to me for a student who’d quit over that. It went against the hard work ethic that the Academy prided itself in.

I made enemies. Maybe gotten some minor credibility. And I’d definitely got a reputation. Monday I returned to classes and was greeted by the excited whispers of eight and nine year olds that had just discovered a new wrestling move or whatever.

The Pink-Haired, Steel-Headed, Foul-Mouthed, Scarred/Scary Demon Girl of the Fourth Year. Lovely.

---

Yeah, I am doing japanese names of jutsu because this is self-indulgent and I wanna cry naruto technique names in my head as I write this. 0 regrets.​

IE: Nômaru-ton: Zutsushi no Waza = Normal Release: Headbutt Move/Technique!​

 

Chapter Seven!
Fourth Year sees some progress!​

Yamanaka Ino was the kind of girl that, in my past life, I would have had an embarrassingly huge crush on. Not at nine, but at eleven, twelve… until the fifth grade I’d been too busy climbing trees and playing ball with the boys to realize I could hang out and spend time with girls. Ino was popular but nice. Outspoken, full of energy, talented and always willing to help out and talk to people. If she grew her hair out, she would be the kind of girl I would have swooned and sighed over.

I was nine for now, but trying to account for my past-life maturity made whatever future romantic prospects I could have… awkward. Anyways.

Ino was in the other class, but we shared kunoichi class. Boys and girls from both classes would have lessons together. While girls had Suzume-sensei, the boys would have Mizuki-sensei teach them how to notice stuff and counter some of the tactics and techniques we learned. Or just use it as a free-practice period. Mizuki-sensei was easy-going like that.

I was very surprised when Ino sat down next to me in our next kunoichi class. I wasn’t the only one.

"Hi, I'm Ino." "I know?" That made her laugh. "What do you think today’s class is about?” “Looks like sewing. That’s useful…” “Oh, I guess so. It’s easy tho, I liked last class better.” “...ugh.” “Hey, how did you manage to use your head like that against Kasumi? You should have gotten a huge bump!” “I hit a training log like everybody else.” “With your head?” “I started with a padded log…”

I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we were friendly. That was almost as good for fourth graders. Beating people up worked wonders for friendship when you look like a shounen character.

The fight had made my guardian forbid me from making money for the first two weeks of summer vacation. Unpaid labor only. That was a real punishment. Without close friends, I spent summer like I hadn’t in years.

Wandering, exploring the city, playing make-believe and exercising for fun. How novel-nostalgic chic.

In the second semester, we were taught proper ninjutsu: Bushin no Jutsu and Henge no Jutsu. Ninjutsu classes had already been composed of handseal practice and chakra control exercises for me. Admittedly, those were very important skills I was somewhat behind on. My control and awareness was hindered by how completely different my chakra behaved within my body. The instructions given to the rest of the class only worked at the most general level. I had a hunch my chakra had seventeen types, for no particular reason… Handseals were a similar topic. The twelve handseals had been standardized since ninja villages noticed they needed a core curriculum, derived from the teaching of the Sage of Six Paths. They worked because humans all had similar chakra pathways. Except for me.

The teachers couldn’t help me even if they wanted to. Ninjutsu class was half theory, half self-practice. It was trial and error for me, like the very first ninjas. I needed to figure out where my chakra flowed and how. Only repetition and time could help me. On top of that, I was going to have to invent my own handseals. I could use the half-seal that was commonly called the seal of confrontation as a basis, even if my version had a slightly different finger positioning. So if I wasn’t practicing the standard handseals to increase my finger coordination and flexibility, I was contorting my fingers in weird ways in the vague hope I’d figure out something new.

Sometimes it was disheartening. Those days, I enjoyed a good sealion self-cuddle. Seels are very, very soft, and squishy. Only six seconds, but six seconds to heal the soul.

“Off to work again?” Ino asked as I packed up my things. It was December already and the sky was threatening snow. “It’s not fair Dad doesn’t pay me when I work at the shop…”

“Your Dad pays you in food and clothing and loads of other things.” I mentioned distractedly, winding up my scarf around my neck. I was eager to go. “See you next week and have a nice weekend.”

She winced a little bit. “Sorry, sorry… Bye! Work hard!”

I dashed out of the Academy. I’d secured a gig chopping wood recently. It paid less per hour, but it was steady work. I wouldn’t have trusted most nine year olds with even a mid-sized axe, but being a responsible fourth year Academy student gave me some credibility.

I was almost up to a thousand ryou again, and I couldn’t wait to pull for the fourth time. I had high hopes! Until now, all my pulls had been two-star pokemon, or Uncommon rank. Meditating on my power had revealed to me that the gacha rate was something like 5-10-35-50, from Ultra Rare to Common. I had about one in ten chances of something good, and this time, for sure–

Common. I hit my head against the tree I was sitting against. “Way to jinx it, Sakura.” I only had myself to blame. “It’s not a bad pull. Magmag, or Slugma… That’s a nasty close-quarters surprise.” Seeing as I would be made out of magma. I would also stop needing a flint to light the campfire. Maybe Slugma started with a fire-type move, but my hopes weren’t great.

A second later I was sitting up with the biggest grin on my face. Slugma didn’t know fire moves. But it did know both Yawn and Smog. A status-effect normal move and a damage-dealing poison move. It was the first move not of the normal type. A milestone I needed to start better understanding my chakra, for sure, and a useful move on top!

Suzuki no Waza was basically identical to a normal headbutt, but Sumoggu no Waza was not going to be confused with anything other than a proper ninjutsu! Unless they thought I used poisonous ninja tools of some sort.

… And if I use either of my new moves, I was locking the other out for a full hour.

“This requires… experimentation.”

---

Finally pulled something with a bit of a heft! Altho, Sakura is the kind of person that doesn't enjoy rocking the boat too much, so she'll be keeping stuff under wraps for now. Despite everything, the Ninja Academy does teach that they are ninjas in a ninja village of secrets.​

 

Chapter Eight!
Meeting with the boy that couldn’t use jutsu!​

I climbed the tallest post. The training ground had a file of ten thick tree trunks, some still padded, others not. I was scratched and bruised, but so was this post. Not that I was going to hit it. I had a better plan.

My hands formed what I called the Normal Seal. It wasn’t quite there yet, but I believed the final form of this handseal was almost in my reach.

“Nômaru-ton: Haneru no Waza.”

And I let myself fall. The technique spread almost instinctively within me. I hit the ground and– plopff– bounced off, my momentum cancelled. I’d done it!

Then I hit the ground again. “Ghu–fff.”

Haneru no Waza, the Splash Move. The most infamous Pokemon move, on the account of being completely useless in-game. I’d tried it out because I could and because I was also curious about it. All I did was… flop around like a fish out of water. It was a good move to test out the differences between automatically using moves as part of my innate power and using moves as deliberate ninja-like techniques. So I’d ended up discovering a few interesting things while testing it out. For one, I didn’t get hurt. Even tho it made my body drop down and pretend half of me was a spring.

Now, using moves as they were in my head was quick and powerful. They wouldn’t fail. But I could only use them as the pokemon would. That was fine with Seel’s Headbutt, but had been a problem with Chimecho’s Wrap. Chimecho used its tail. I did not have a tail. It ended up tripping me up before my body realized my legs were the closest thing I was going to get.

Spoink’s Splash had me bounce on my butt. Not dignified.

The solution was to use my chakra-energy. It offered greater flexibility in how I used the moves, but it required me to use at least one handseal to concentrate. As I’d used and gotten used to a Normal move and a Poison move, I’d started honing in on the handseals for those type releases. Because I was still figuring out which handseals would work for the rest of the technique, it took me some time to concentrate and mold my chakra before I used my moves outside their predefined patterns.

Thus, Splash practice. More specifically, practice in using Splash as a fall-breaking technique.

All things considered, it was going quite well. I still needed some time to concentrate, but Haneru no Waza was simple and wouldn’t have a lot of handseals. All it did was convert what little momentum I had into a harmful flopping motion. I still hadn’t managed to keep it going for more than a couple of bounces. I could sort of use it as a bouncy-hopping motion while standing in place which… did nothing. As advertised. The goal was to be able to hit the ground in any position and bounce harmlessly.

“We’re getting there.” I told myself. I sat up and rubbed my jaw. “Okay then, time for the other ones.”

This one I could do much better.

Normal Seal. “Zutsuki no Waza!”

My head hit the training post with a loud crack. If the birds in Konoha weren’t entirely used to ninjas, they’d have flown off.

“Excuse me!”

I startled and wiped out a kunai at a kid, standing several meters behind me. Black-haired, strong eyebrow and square-jawed, he couldn’t be much older than me.

“Pardon. I was wondering if I could also use this field, but I saw you train. What style of taijutsu is that? I’ve never seen anything like it!”

I blinked. “Errr…”

He seemed to falter, but it was hard to tell, because his face seemed perpetually stuck into a determined expression. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy. I was just curious. Please forgive me.” And he gave me a polite little bow.

“It’s fine.” I shook myself. “You just startled me. It’s… hm.” Well, I didn’t know if I actually wanted to answer that question. I was still working out how to remind the Academy teachers of the tiny print in my medical file that said yes, I could use jutsu. “It’s something I’m working on. I’m sorry, but who are you?”

This time, a small blush rose on the boy’s face. “My name is Rock Lee! Fifth year, Class 1! It’s nice to meet you.”

“Haruno Sakura, fourth-two…” Was his surname Lee…? “Wait. I know you, you’re the kid that’s like me!”

“Like you?”

“You can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu, right?” He nodded. “I can't, well, I can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu like a normal person either.”

“Really!? I did not know that there was somebody else trying to be a ninja using just taijutsu.” He was excited.

I felt a little bad about making my problems with chakra look like his. “I’s not like I won’t ever be able to use ninjutsu… My chakra pathways are all messed up, so I have to discover entire new jutsu for myself.” I explained. “Our situation isn’t exactly the same… sorry.”

But Lee just brushed it off. “It’s still amazing! You are a very strong person, Haruno-san! Trying to graduate without ninjutsu is hard, don’t diminish your hard work! You can do it!”

I found myself laughing. His praise felt good and made me blush. Wow, had it really been that long wince admiration had been turned my way? “By that logic, aren’t you also amazing and strong?”

Rock Lee stopped, his brain tripping over itself. A deep blush turned his cheeks red. “Ah? Ahah?! Wa-ha, no, I just… I want to prove I can become a strong ninja. Ahahah…”

“That’s cool.” I ran my eyes over his body with more attention. His outfit was scuffed and showed signs of great use. For a kid, he was obviously in great shape. And his hands and shins had callouses like I’d never seen on an Academy student. “I’m sure you’ll succeed. I’m going to practice some taijutsu myself. You’re free to use the other posts.”

“Yosh!”

And that was how I met Rock Lee, a complete taijutsu maniac.

---

Introducing Lee! Had to happen sooner or later. Boy is gonna have a crush as soon as he figures out what crushes are.​

Also making use of Splash as a move. To visualie moves I've ben going a lot over the anime depictions of it. Interestingly, Splash translates as Hop and Growl as Cry.​

 

Chapter Nine!
Don’t forget those that loved this girl!​

Just after I finished the year, the Academy’s fourth out of seven, I was called up to discuss my situation. For once, not my ninja situation. It had been accepted that I was going to be a ninja, half-assed or not. It was about my stay at the way-house.

I was having my tenth birthday in under two weeks. I was already one of the oldest children at the house.

The matron and a social-worker, I believed, sat down with me.

“A whole apartment?” I questioned. “I can’t pay for that.”

The older man nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Of course, the village will support the greater part of your living costs. Academy students without parents are often emancipated around your age. After graduation, you’d be an adult in most respects anyway, so it’s customary to ease students into independent living.”

“Okay, that’s a relief.”

“Beyond that, it’s been withheld because you were a child under the care of Konoha, but your parents’ assets will become available to you as well.”

I blinked. “My parents had assets?” The question was stupid. Of course they did, even if just some money in the bank. They’d been ninjas, no matter how low-ranked. I’d never connected those dots. “Oh.”

They were talking about controlled access and supervision and regular check-ups. I paid as much attention as I could. The world was opening into an array of choices and opportunities that I’d never thought I would have. Not so soon.

I really owed the Harunos. What a curious feeling… it made my eyes water.

With the help of the village’s child services, I found a tiny apartment in a good-enough zone. It was in a better neighborhood than where I’d been, and only it’s size cut down on the price. The kitchen and bedroom were separated by a folding screen, but the appliances were okay and the plumbing was good. There was a single window in the kitchen area.

My vacations were spent getting a hold of how my life was changing and scouring second-hand shops for furniture.

Not sharing my living space with other children was a game changer. I had privacy? I could have my own things without fear they’d be damaged or ‘lost’. I cut a hole in a celebratory cookie tie to make a piggy bank, now that I didn’t have to carry everything in my pouch. I had to get an alarm clock because I no longer woke up with the noise of the water running.

Budgeting was going to be a struggle, I thought as my eyes devoured the paper representing my outstanding balance. There was more than expected. For the first month, I took only enough to top up what I needed for the next pull.

Fittingly, a golden rare star lit up in my mind. A starter, Kimori, better known as Treecko. Helpfully, both Leer and Pound became available, a status move and another physical move easily incorporated in my taijutsu.

I let myself sprawl on the floor of my new, own home. As I grew up, things started looking up. Or maybe that was just the increased agency. The walls of the apartment were nearly bare. The few photos that had survived my parents were carefully tucked into a drawer until I found a place to make copies of them. The mini-fridge was stocked, there was instant ramen in my cupboards. My Academy books occupied half a shelf and my weapons were in a straw basket missing a handle.

I imagined a mirror on the ceiling, and contemplated Sakura.

Chewing gum pink hair, straight and neat, was pulled back into a short ponytail. I supposed I could choose my own haircut now that the matron wasn't the one to take the scissors to it. Were there cheap saloons nearby? Standard dark blue ninja sandals, open-toed, along with comfortable blue pants that tightened around my ankles. They lacked pockets, but I always carried my things in my holster or my pouches. Today was loose white t-shirt day. It was always loose t-shirt day, but I had a few colors to choose from. My winter hoodies, the only two hoodies I had, were hanging in my new closet along with my one and favorite sleeveless vest. Likewise my usual hand wraps were drying, since I did not train today.

I had money to actually buy clothes that I wanted now. I could have a style instead of the mishmash of colors that were handed down to me or on sale. I could get those cool robes and some proper fingerless gloves.

It was almost overwhelming.

"I guess… yeah. Thanks. Mom… Dad."

I'd never called them that before, not to myself. I spent the rest of the afternoon imagining what Sakura's life could have been like in a kinder world. I decided to visit the memorial before the Academy started up again.

---

This one was easy to write. Between Sakura's emotions regarding the parents she never met and apartment building, the hard part was the conversation with the... social worker? Those always trip me up.​

This one also marks the hacceleration of this gacha-user into a whale... since disposable income becomes a thing. RIP, piggy bank.​

 

Chapter Ten!
I don’t think it’s strange that I have friends!​

I felt a familiar dismay as Lee dodged my glowing fist. I knew what came next. I tensed up in preparation, and managed to withstand the kick that sent me down with only an average level of pain. "O-okay, I yield. That's enough."

"Are you sure?" I could hear the 'already?’ in Lee’s voice.

“Yeah, I need to rest up before my job.” The hustle never slept.

“Oh, of course.” … “You can keep training Lee, you know that I don’t mind.” “Yosh. Thank you for your consideration, Sakura-san!” “Ye-ye…”

The sound of fists hitting wood filled the training ground as I regained my breath. The fall’s colder temperatures had the proud leaves of the trees around us yellowing and falling. We weren’t in the one near the Academy. Lee knew more than a few training spots, and he’d introduced me to this one. We used it for our regularly scheduled joint taijutsu training, the only training we could do together.

“Hey Lee, mind if I think out loud to you?”

“Not, 33. At all, 34.”

“Hm, thanks. Anyway, you know I’ve recently gotten a handle of a few more ninjutsu.” Now that I had more money, I could regularly pull once every three or so months. Since the year had started, Aerodactyl and Houndour had joined my arsenal. “I've even gotten a fire type jutsu.” Ember from Houndour.

“That’s right, 46!” And Lee would know, we spared together once a week.

“Hm, yeah, and I’m getting better with my handseals, but I still can’t use my moves consecutively.” A noise of understanding. “So I’m thinking that unless I manage to get that hurdle down ‘til the end of the year, I’m not going to tell the teachers for now.”

Well, I could use Leer, Niramitsukeru no Waza, twice per hour. However, since that would block either Hinoko no Waza or Hataku no Waza. And those were the attacking moves I used the most. So I could, in theory, use a genjutsu and prove it wasn’t a fluke.

“Why not? 71! Your grades would, 72! Surely improve, 73!” I knew a straight-laced kid like him would question my decision.

“Because my progress is too slow. It’ll look like I stall a lot,” And I sort of did. “My consistency will always be called into question, so I wanna get things to a better level first. This sort of perception trick is part of being a ninja, so I think it’s fair game.”

“Underneath, 99! The underneath, 100!” Lee paused, breathing deeply. “That’s smart, Sakura-san! Alright, another 200 kicks!”

I smirked. “Glad you think so, Lee-san!” I was going to get him to stop with that pronoun one day. “Anyway, I know I’ve made progress, and not just in jutsu. You know what I think has been my greatest achievement so far? Having you and Ino as friends.”

Lee missed his kick, unbalancing and falling backwards with a yelp. “Sa-sakura-san!” He was red as a tomato.

“Anyway, when’s your birthday?” “N-next month, November 27th? Why?”

“Ino invited me to her birthday party a few days ago. It was nice.” I said. “I’d like to at least give you a happy birthday when the day comes.”

I wasn’t being farcical or exaggerating in any way. Ino’s birthday party was the place where I suddenly realized that I had two actual friends. It blew my mind. I’d been always distant from kids my supposed age, which was natural. Plus I was an orphan with very few means, I was always working and all I did at the Academy was study. I had a bad reputation. They called me the Greedy Demon at the way house, because I wanted money. Whatever.

That had been the first birthday party I’d been invited to. Ino had rallied when she learnt that, and she made sure I was having fun, even tho the party was for her. Her father was taking pictures… I’d asked for a copy, since, well, it would be the second picture of me to ever exist. I had a picture of my mother, pregnant, and my Academy file surely had one but me? Just a normal picture?

Not until then. I wanted to have a lot more pictures. I was here. I was alive and I was living well. I wanted some sort of proof that I existed, maybe. I wondered if Lee’s mother would take a picture for us…

---

Behold, Sakura no longer being a weird recluse child worker! Lee and Ino have been doing wonders for her, she's even questioning her life and wanting photographs!! *legasp* Photos are gonna be one of the ways Sakura keeps herself grounded to people.
It helps a lot that she's acclimatized to Konoha after years and, well, that she's finally surrounded by kids in their double digits. At long last.​

 

Chapter Eleven!
Graduation time is here, but not for me!​

We faced each other in a clearing without snow. Our referee stood over us on top of the training post. “Ready?” Ino raised her hand. “Go!”

I… turned to wiggle my butt at my opponent, blowing a raspberry at him. Lee skidded. “Wh-what? Wait!” Too late, Nômaru-ton: Shippo o Furu had been a success. I couldn't let up. I wiggled more with a cute little giggle.

“I will not be cowed, Sakura!” He resumed his attack and… fast! I managed to squeeze out a single seal before I dropped limp, dodging the first of his attacks. Haneru no Waza! One hand on the ground, I pivoted quickly and cried out my own attack.

“Zutsuki no Waza!” My head collided with Lee’s block, but it was weakened and I managed to gain some space. I had to keep it that way. My hands flashed through seals, the few I needed, as I brought my ninjutsu to bear. All the while, I ran back, keeping my distance the best I could.

Mushi-ton: Ito o Haku no Waza! Niramitsukeru no Waza! Nakigoe no Waza! Niramitsukeru no Waza!

“You cannot dodge forever!” The boy crashed a kick against a hastily raised block.

“True! Akubi no Waza!” I yawned.

Lee’s eyes widened, familiar with the genjutsu, but it was too late. He pushed me away and tried slapping himself to drive back the drowsiness. I had to capitalize on it. Strings dangled from body and he was already rattled from the constant Leers and Growls. I had one chance.

I wound up my fist in a completely telegraphed move, hand starting to shine. Every syllable left my mouth like a promise. “Hataku!” And I clocked Lee in the jaw.

I’d done it… Lee’s eyes snapped open. Or not, or not! Too close, I had to go for a Wrap–

Shin filled my vision, then the sky was down before I crashed painfully into the ground. I’d done a backflip courtesy of Rock Lee, who now sat on my back and applied a submission hold. “Do you yield, Sakura?”

I managed to weakly tap his arm.

“Winner: Rock Lee!” Ino crowed to the non-existent crowd!

“YOSH! Ah! Let me help you up!” “P-please…” “Wow, you have no mercy at all, do you Lee-kun?”

Ino joined us on the ground-level as Lee helped me become less of a defeated smear on the pavement. The year was ending. Specifically, the civil year that marked the end of three-quarters of our sixth school year. Well, for me and Ino.

“Ow, my face… You definitely have nothing to fear. Lee, you’re going to ace your graduation exam.”

Lee, one year older, was on the seventh and last year. His final exams were coming up, and his performance on the only category they could grade him on, taijutsu, would determine whether or not he got to wear the Konoha headband. As an official genin. And he could try to hide it, but Lee was definitely nervous.

Ino and I, but mostly me, had generously dispensed some of our winter vacations to help him out. Studying and sparing, which meant Ino got to lecture him and I… got my ass kicked.

"Fighting Sakura is as hard as ever." He commented as he stretched his shoulders. "I need to do three times more effort than normal, your genjutsu is truly amazing!"

And yet he'd still taken me out in one blow. "Well, that's the only strategy that works on somebody that much stronger than me. If hadn’t, you'd just shrug me off." Lee was going to be a beast. Whittling him down with status moves was more efficient than trying to overpower him with attack moves. Because he'd just dodge.

Been there, done that, lesson learnt.

Time was passing so quickly, between my efforts and the Academy pushing me to prove myself. I'd settled into something of a routine, broken only by the now regular uses of my power. My arsenal was growing! I was getting closer to pulling any pokemon, just one, please, another time. Level 10 haunted me. I desperately wanted the power boost and the ability to transform for more than a measly six seconds. I had to be able to at least pretend to do something like one of the three basic jutsus, and Henge no Jutsu was right there!

Ditto would do too, but that was an exception.

My capabilities had been revealed in increments to both Lee and Ino. Lee and I had a partnership of sorts and we helped each other get better. We'd just spared with no transformations, but that was because I had already spent most of them before. Incorporating them into my style was a hundred percent only possible because he helped. Ino was just a friend that liked watching us train more than she liked training with us. She did find some of my transformations cute and cuddly. Somehow, I'd been coerced into providing her with a Ponyta ride when I got better at being a horse.

I had a couple of aces in the holes. Aerodactyl to fly off, Absol as the fastest even at level five, and two fish pokemon transformations that would let me breathe underwater for twelve seconds. I liked my chances a lot better now that my capabilities had expanded, but still. Still.

Well, I had another two months and another pull before I had to worry about my grades.

---

Massive timeskip of about... 1 year and a couple of months. Previous Lee had been 10 going on 11 (the mentioned birthday) and now he's just recently celebrated 12yo. 6 new pokemon are in Sakura's arsenal. Should I do a post just to track her pulls?
Also, an example of a fight without transformations. The moves used are, in order: Tail Whip, Splash, Headbutt, String Shot, Leer, Growl, Yawn and Pound.​

 

Chapter Twelve!
Scarhead can do jutsu, too!​

Lee did pass, when the day came. I gave him a pair of nunchucks as a graduation gift. He was probably going to wear them down before three months were past, but I couldn't resist it.

He got put in a classic three-man formation with a Hyuuga that was his class' 'rookie of the year', a girl that used throwing weapons and a Gai-sensei, who he really wanted to impress. He was a lot busier as a genin, so I'd barely seen him in the following month or so.

Which wouldn't matter too much, because my own end of year exams were around the corner. And I needed to do well in these.

The seventh and last year of the Ninja Academy was different from the others. It was shorter, only nine months ending with the graduation in January. Breaks were smaller. Very little new material was on the syllabus, the year was focussed on perfecting and testing what we'd been taught until then. And there was only a single class of students.

This was a bottleneck.

I found myself in front of a panel of teachers. My case was to be discussed. It was a familiar position for me. Every year I had to re-justify and prove my commitment to the ninja path.

"Haruno Sakura. Your theoretical grades are still excellent." Naturally, after getting a handle on the language. It wasn’t like they required literally mastery from us. Memorization and math I could do in my sleep.

"Top ten in taijutsu, and good marks in weapons and tool usage." The teacher, a familiar young man that also had a large scar on his face, put down my papers. "There’s been some improvement in your chakra control but… well, considering the handicap you are working with, do you think that's enough to become a genin?"

I took a deep breath. "Sensei, I-I have news actually. I've made progress with my self-studies."

The chuunins traded looks. "How so? Can you perform any of the three basic ninjutsu?"

"Kinda" I hurried to explain. "I can use Henge but only to transform into certain animals? But I managed to figure out my own fire jutsu and a genjutsu."

"Really. Demonstrate your transformation, please."

So I showed off my… horned seal. And horned fish. Ta-da, I could transform my body! The teachers gave off the distinct impression that they were scratching their heads about me. Because my transformations looked perfect, but their subjects were not. The main teacher rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Alright… How about your, fire jutsu, was it?"

"Of course." I turned to the side, since I didn't want to set them on fire, and ran through the four handseals that stabilized this move. "Honô-ton: Hinoko no Waza!"

An inhalation, and I spat out a plume of fire that wasn't quite strong enough to hit the wall of the classroom. The temperature of the room had spiked, and the suddenly dry air made me cough. First time using Ember in a confined space. Perhaps I should have modulated it better, but well… I sneaked a peak at the teachers. Eh. Eyes wide, mouths open.

I cleared my throat, noting how bad it was. That worked in my favor, I could only use it once a day. "I… don't think I can repeat that… but," cough, "hmmr! Genjutsu."

Suzume-sensei wrote down something on her papers. "Of course, of course. Drink some water, Sakura."

I thanked her. "Alright. I'll use my genjutsu next. Ready?"

I looked them in the eyes, seals woven. "Niramitsukeru no Waza." And I Leered.

My eyes, the whole thing, glowed red. My interviewer reacted in different ways, some shifting defensively, others stilling. I knew from using it on Lee and Ino that Leer's defense lowering effect worked somewhat like a genjutsu on people. Which meant it could be fought off mentally, but that chakra release techniques had limited effectiveness. I wasn’t targeting their system with my chakra directly. Somehow. Moves got weird.

What followed were a series of questions about Niramitsukeru's effects, another demonstration, and more question how I had basically 'invented' my jutsu. There was little to say there that wasn’t fantastical. My story was true, I'd gotten there by modifying handseals through trial and error until both the 'right' feeling and 'right' effect were achieved. I just applied them to the move pattern that a seemingly higher entity imprinted onto me. It was a tripartite venn diagram of frustration. I was getting better at it, my move and handseal sample pools expanding as I worked at it.

I passed, their complaints not void but attenuated. Sure, I still couldn't do the Academy basics… but I could do better stuff. Of course, now that I'd shown my hand, I was going to have to somehow improve on it.

---

Sakura finally reveals she can ninjutsu and genjutsu. She wasn't going to be held back (Lee wasn't) but she figured now was the best time to reveal her progress. Due to the moves available to low-level pokemon, she has more things like Leer and Growl available in her arsenal. After all, she can only use one move per pokemon every hour.
I'd say graduation will come in chapter 16.​

 

Chapter Thirteen!
The ninja candidates are going to be a headache!​

I started the new year feeling good. I was going to be in Ino’s class, along with her childhood friends-slash-required-limpets, Chouji and Shikamaru. I liked Ino, and Chouji too from the times we'd met at her birthday parties. Shikamaru I was reserving judgment on, since we never really talked and I knew better than to trust a preteen's opinion on boys. I knew half the people in my new class, but the rest would be from Ino’s old class, which included a lot more famous names from our history lessons than mine.

I finally remembered where I knew the teacher with the scar, Umino Iruka-sensei, from. I'd seen him year after year, every tenth of October, at the memorial for Nine-Tails' victims. Specifically, the memorial for ninja casualties. The matron took me and some other kids there on the day, back when we were younger. He wasn’t that much older than me, so he must have lost family to it. I hadn’t been to the memorial on the anniversary of the attack since I’d gotten my own place and scheduling freedom. Too many people.

I reached the Academy as the bell was about to ring like always, fresh from my newspaper run. Everybody was already there or loitering near the door. Entering, I sought out Ino and found her sitting next to, unmistakably, Uchiha Sasuke. She was completely absorbed, talking to him. That's right, she had the biggest crush on him. There were no empty spaces next to her and, honestly, I wasn't looking forward to being next to my best friend as she tried to get a man's attention. I could be a wingman but…

I surveyed the girls that would be my classmates. Was Uchiha catnip or something? Ugh, preteens.

Instead, I climbed up to my usual row, at the very back. "Is this seat free?" I asked a boy sitting alone.

"Y-yes. G-go ahead." He stuttered out. I caught a glimpse of white Hyuuga eyes. It had been a while since I’d seen those. I hadn’t known there was a guy from that clan in our year.

"Thanks." Actually… " Hey, you… would you know a boy that just graduated, Hyuuga Neji?"

"N-n-neji-nii-san?" He startled, head lifting from the collar of his jacket. It was adorable and I also wanted a nice jacked like his. "H-how d-do you k-know N-n-neji?"

"He's in the same team as my friend Lee. I've never actually met him, honestly. Just got curious."

I was going to keep the conversation going, but Iruka-sensei chose that moment to shoo in the kids outside and close the door behind him, signaling the start of classes. The bell rang, right on time.

We started with introductions. Name, favorite subject, a personal detail. I noted all of those down, of course, because Suzume-sensei's lessons had taught me well. I would never be a social animal and crap at engaging most people, but I'd become surprisingly detail-aware. And these little things people told you without meaning too were a lot easier for me to gather and parse than trying to weedle out of them by directing conversations. We were supposed to start with Aburame Shino, from a clan that I tried not to think too hard about, but Inuzuka Kiba interrupted because his ninja puppy Akamaru technically came first. I forgave him, because Akamaru was a ruffly, adorable, fluffy ball of hidden murder. Shino absolutely didn’t.

We were almost at my name, which was in the later half of the syllabary, when the classroom's door rattled and opened, letting in a blonde and orange cannonball.

"I'm not late!"

… He so was.

Uzumaki Naruto. Hard not to have heard of the biggest troublemaker in the Academy. I vaguely remembered he'd been in one of my classes in the very early years of school. I did not remember him being so… loud. Uzumaki was the bad orphan example. When we behaved badly, and only when we behaved really badly, that was the one they would compare us to. We were behaving just like that Naruto. We didn’t want to be like that Naruto. It felt almost prejudiced, but aside from his bright hair he didn’t look like any different from most people in Konoha, already a diverse group. On the other hand, the punk was yelling in front of the whole class and I could already feel a phantom migraine.

Oh, and of course that triggered counter-yelling. My eye twitched.

The excessively loudmouth ninja prankster… and the perfectly brooding ninja idol (plus entourage). I let my forehead thunk against the desk’s top and ground it left and right. I hoped this was not an omen. Then I remembered that part of this year’s focus would be team exercises. Group projects.

Hyuuga was probably looking at me weird when I released a low moan of “Nooooo…”

---

I think the Hinata is a boy is a funny gag, honestly.​

And yes, Sakura has no idea of the irony being visited upon her self.​

 

Chapter Fourteen!
The pastures are green for the noble beasts of Konoha, what!​

"Sakura-chan!!"

"Hey Lee-eee!?" What the fuck. "Wha-wha-what-t's with the… chan. And the… haircut?"

Rock Lee posed, actually idol-posed, in front of me. Bright shiny grin, had he treated his teeth? Hair cut in a perfectly round bowl-cut shape. A victory 'v' in front of his eyes and a wink. That was… something.

But the green form-fitting onesie? Hmm, doubt.

I couldn’t say anything about the orange leg warmers. Orange was an awesome color that I regretted not being able to wear in large swathes anymore on account of the pink hair.

"Sakura-chan! I am in the springtime of Youth! Gai-sensei has accepted me as his personal pupil!" Lee expounded with much too vigor.

I blinked, processing the sentences.

"Indeed I have!" Holy– a man dressed exactly the same as Lee appeared next to him. "Hello, Sakura-chan! I am pleased to meet one of Lee’s most youthful friends!"

"Errr… who are you?"

"Sakura-chan, this is Gai-sensei!" Lee rocked in place, shocked.

I was the one shocked! "You never described him to me! Physically!"

"Ah." He blushed and turned to his sensei. "My apologies Gai-sensei!"

"No harm done!" Gai gave him a thumbs-up. The most thumbs-uppy thumbs-up I'd ever seen. "Anyway, Lee wished to introduce me to you. I am Maito Gai, a jounin specializing in taijutsu! I have witnessed Lee’s fires of youth–"

"Gai-sensei!"

"–and pledged to do my best, no! I will push myself to my limits to help Lee achieve his dream!"

Honestly, good for Lee. He deserved more people believing in him. He had an infallible working ethic and was a good person. "Did Lee mention my chakra problems?"

"That's right!" "I apologize if I was too presumptuous, Sakura-chan! But I think Gai-sensei could really help you too!" “Your concern for your friend does you credit, Lee!” “Gai-sensei!”

I raised a hand, weakly. “Hum, Lee, you know that I don’t train as much as you because I just don’t have the time, right?” Also, Lee didn’t comprehend the meaning of fatigue, probably.

“Perhaps you could join us for fourty laps around the village before sunrise!” Gai proposed.

“Newspaper run job.” I countered.

“Twenty warm-up laps an hour before sunrise!”

“Sleep is an important part of an exercise regime!”

“Good point! What do you do after classes?”

“Warehouse job, cleaning job, bar job. Homework, study. Then preparation for the day after.” I raised one finger. “Except today, I do extra practice here, as usual. And tomorrow, which is a resting day.”

“A most youthful schedule!” Gai nodded, then thought. “Hmm, are you in the habit of studying quietly or while doing some sort of exercise?”

“Yep, I know that trick. I stretch or do isometric exercises.” I really, really didn’t have a lot of time, which was why I enjoyed my very early nights in a comfy bed, and a good nap on the grounds of the Academy during the day.

“Sakura-chan, the fires of youth burn brightly within you too!” Lee yelled.

Hm, no. “I just really need money and really want to graduate.”

“Nevertheless, the passion of youth is clear within you!” Gai leaned forward. I kept my face blank. “Somewhat… hip and cool as well.” What? “Regardless, join us for training today! When Lee and I have no missions, we should train together!”

And that was how Gai-sensei started giving me extra taijutsu lessons. Once or twice a month. I wasn’t going to lie, after the first time, I could barely crawl home. I was very glad that they only happened occasionally.

Lee… I couldn’t say anything when he was this happy. And getting so stronger. I could only glimpse his progress and it was shiver inducing. Even if… well, his master’s eccentricity had

It was two months later, after we’d ‘warmed up’, that Gai politely asked to assess my musculature. Which would probably ring some alarm bells if the eccentric man wasn't also an accomplished physiotherapist. Probably. He certainly knew his shit forwards and backwards.

I watched him poke my calves with professional hands. “Your muscle tone is good. And you are already twelve, is it not? Good! Then, I believe you can benefit from weight training like Lee does!” He raised a hand before I could remind him of my circumstances. “Lee! Show Sakura your progress!”

Lee jumped to attention. “Yes, Gai-sensei! Sakura-chan, look here!” And he lifted his now customary leg warmers, showing me a band of white fabric with rectangles embedded in it.

I blinked. “Wait… are all of those… weights?”

“Yes! Lee uses these weights to continuously train his body!” Gai-sensei explained. “These are special ankle weights that increase the strain on the legs, allowing Lee to train his legs and speed. This is especially important for the Dancing Leaf techniques I am teaching Lee.”

Oh. “Oh, so wearing something like this I could train even while I work.”

“Exactly! However, you are not ready for such a training yet!” He patted my shoulder. “Also, these weights could interfere with the taijutsu that your sensei will want you to learn when you become a genin!”

I already knew Gai-sensei enough to guess what came next. “Different weights then?”

I will skip the youthful declarations. I was happily instructed on finding a good set of light weights for myself, how to use them without hurting myself and how to progress to a certain level.

Needless to say, life became harder.

---

That was hard to write. Also! ... Star Rail came out ahahah.... Tho, about the weights, they will never be as heavy as Lee's. I kinda want to get to the part in which Kakashi blanks out for two seconds flat as he realizes who sakura is friends with.
Wanted to get a Lee confession scene here too but it didn't work out. As one might expect, he will be refused because Sakura is quite gay.​

 

Where cats fear to tread
1.1​

“Stupid.”

When Maki woke up, spying the familiar ceiling of the infirmary, that was the thought she had. However, it wasn’t her mouth that said those words. Confused, she looked for the source of her spoken thoughts.

Mai sat on another bed, brow furrowed in anger or something. “Stupid.” She repeated, words acerbic on her tongue. “How can you be so stupid to get cursed like that, hm?”

But Maki couldn’t focus on that. The sister she’d left at home was there, wearing a Jujutsu Tech shirt like her. And… “Wha-what happened to you?!” Her hoarse voice called out, eyes jumping to the top of her head.

And the two furry triangles emerging at a slanted angle from the hair at the top of her head.

Mai’s eyebrow twitched, and the ears –because they very much were animal ears– lowered even further. Something dark, long and equally furry shifted near her knees –tail– and she spat out. “You happened. Why don’t you look into a mirror first, Maki!”

She raised a hand to her face, vaguely noting her glasses were missing, before moving upwards and making contact with something. The itchy sensations that had been plaguing her made sudden sense. “Shit.”

*

“So, Maki fought a tricky curse that got the wrong ranking, and because she doesn’t have a resistance, she got cursed.” Panda summarized. “And that was how Maki became cuter. But not cuter than me.”

“Sake.”

Sitting sideways at her desk, Maki growled, stopped herself at the too realistic sound and settled on threatening her stupid classmates by starting to unzip her nagitana’s case. She was not, and never would be, “cute”. Gods, she could already imagine what they were going to say back at the house… at least she’d gotten cursed with ‘cat’ instead of ‘monkey’. That old drunkard was probably laughing and thinking something asinine and disgusting about ‘nekomimi’ or some other bullshit.

She sighed, trying to ignore the way that her new ears wanted to fold down. Keeping her new… appendages in check was a pain. What a way to start her sorcery career. A month into Jujutsu Tech and this happened.

Great.

“Hello, hello!~” The blindfolded bastard burst into the room. “I’ve got excellent news everybody!~”

Suspicious silence greeted him. One of Maki’s ears had flattened itself, parallel to the ground.

“Due to certain events~” Could he get any more annoying? No, of course he could. “We’re getting a transfer student from Kyoto.” Wait. Maki’s tail uncurled from where it had been resting around her legs. He couldn’t mean– “You can come in, Zenin-san.”

Mai walked in. She wore a different uniform from hers, a longer skirt. A black, long-furred tail, and a pair of feline ears, just like the ones Maki had. She stared blankly ahead and, when silently prompted by Gojo, bowed primly at the waist. She didn’t look at Maki.

“Zenin Mai. Just call me Mai.” Since there were two Zenins here.

“I didn’t know Maki had a sister at Kyoto Tech…” Panda said.

“Well, yeah…” Neither had she.

*

A curse like that was supposed to be dispelled by exercising the curse that originated it. Simple, easy: see curse, kill curse. Any and all animal traits imposed on the victim, gone.

Then, however it was that the curse supposedly worked, it tripped on Maki’s Heavenly Restriction, crashed and burned. Leaving a tangled mess of cursed energy people didn’t have a clue what to do with, which included the physical manifestation of aforementioned character traits.

“Well, now that the cursed spirit is gone, it doesn’t appear to be harmful. Lucky!” Gojo was way too amused by the whole thing.

“Unraveling it is going to be a pain, tho…” Even as she said that, the doctor’s eyes shined with just too much curiosity. Wasn’t there a rumor that she enjoyed dissections?

“That doesn’t explain why my sister was also affected.” Maki hissed, trying very hard to not pay attention to the fidgeting tip of her… tail.

Mai scoffed from where she was sitting rigidly in a chair. Two paces away. “We’re twins. Of course it affected both of us. When doesn’t it?” She glared at Maki, arms crossed.

“Tch. There’s a reason I left, ya know.” Maki couldn’t help but shoot back.

“Oh, I know.” Mai drawled venomously. “How’s it going? No wait, don’t tell me. I can guess.” Her ears wiggled on purpose.

Damn her.

*

“So you’re actually transferring here?” Maki asks her bluntly.

“Until the curse is unraveled,” Mai explains, keeping her eyes on a notebook as she writes down notes. “Ieri-sensei believes it to be dangerous for us to unravel the curse just like that because of the physical changes. She will need to be monitoring us at each step. The more gradual the better, so it’s easier for me to stay here instead of condensing the treatment during the weekends.”

Right, Mai had stayed behind to hear Ieri-sensei and that idiot. Maki had needed to leave. A summary was enough.

“How long?”

“Don’t know.”

Mai closed her notebook and got up, pulling a phone from her pockets and– since when did Mai have a phone? Had the clan given it to her? They’d never been allowed to…

“Hey, why did you join Kyoto Tech?”

Mai’s head snapped up to meet her gaze. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving, angry, a storm of things Maki hadn’t seen in forever or perhaps ever at all. She opened her mouth, but didn’t say anything. Maki’s brow furrowed even more. Mai’s breath came harsh. Both their ears slanted down.

Mai broke off and turned away. Her chair clattered as she almost ran to the doorway.

“Hey, wait!” Maki chased her, went to grab her so she could stay still and explain what that was all about.

Panda and Inumaki were in the hallway, paying too close attention. She hesitated for an instant to take Mai’s arm, and just like that her sister slipped away. Ears flat against her hair, tail swishing dangerously behind her.

---

I've been wanting (and writing) lots of Zenin Twins because they break my heart like... auuuu. But, mmm, while waiting for really long fics that explore Construction CT, and a bunch of time-travel fixit and non-fixit, have this. It's... crack taken seriously because I will milk the fact that these two are forced to interact in their first year. It's like locking them together in a room. Brilliant.​

 

Chapter Fifteen!
A conversation with the strongest!
​

The thing about a hard life was that it passed by very, very quickly. It also paid its dividends, and not just in my growing strength and ability to kick ass. There were fewer things happier than jumping in the branches of the Konoha trees and realizing I had become capable of rooftop hopping like I had dreamed of as a child.

I had… summoned something repeated!

Absol! My beloved! I could be a beautiful, ominous detector of doom for twelve full seconds!

Whismur joined that restricted group too, today in fact, and with ten move types present in my arsenal, I actually felt somewhat confident about being a genin. I had Absorb and Protect, Thunderwave, Supersonic… It was hard keeping the smile off my face.

“Hey, Sakura, are you going to visit the memorial tomorrow or another time as usual?” Ino asked me before classes started. My friend had grown her hair and become a beauty. I was acutely reminded that she was not only just twelve, but also very straight. The hormones had started last year, but they hit at the weirdest times.

There had been… incidents, this past year.

I shook my head. “The usual. Well, maybe a bit later than usual tonight.”

After Ino had returned to her seat, I felt Hinata’s curiosity. She tended to start fidgeting when she wanted to talk. She. Because Hinata was a girl.

I had mentioned incidents, hadn’t I? Meeting Hyuuga Neji had started a whole thing. It had ended with Hinata becoming my friend too, but the trip there had been rough.

“My parents died in the fox attack twelve years ago.” I waved off her concern before it manifested in a full-blow Hinata Stutter. “Doesn’t really matter. Anyway, on the tenth there’s always too many people for my liking, so I tend to go the night before.”

She nodded, and I felt more than heard her very little “Okay.” and “I’m sorry.”

I gave her a thumbs up.

Class was soon derailed by Naruto getting dragged in by Iruka-sensei. Right on time.

Knowing that tomorrow I wouldn’t have to go for my usual early morning job, I let myself reminisce through work and later dinner. My home was still the same, two years later. But now, the empty walls were decorated with photos and shelves contained a collection of improvised flower pots and their little plants. Ino had learnt that plants had to be resilient near me. A good set of weights gathered dust in one corner, too light for me at this point. I hadn’t sold them yet because they’d been a gift from Lee.

I was doing well. I would make sure to tell the Harunos that.

It was dark and nearing eleven when I made my way, leisurely, to the memorial. The big stone monument had been carved with names since the founding of the village. With time, more and more of the stone had been raised from the ground, so that more names could be added.

The Harunos were here too. Their bones were interred in the cemetery, which I visited when March ended. But for the remembrance of their deaths, not the life they’d brought into the world, I came here. Part of it was habit, from the time of my early childhood. Hunting down the graves of two people was too much for the caretakers of orphans, who had too many kids to handle. They brought us to a single place instead.

When I was a toddler, I cried a lot in front of this stone. Not for these names, but for all I’d lost from before. Funny how I barely remembered who those people had been.

I sighed.

Thank you, for protecting this body. I was doing my best to live a good life. I had pictures of it as proof. I’d found friends. I was keeping healthy. I hoped you found peace, or at least oblivion.

“I hope to not see you soon.” I joked, as usual.

“I would hope not.” A voice answered from behind me.

I whirled around. Stopped, disbelieving. I’d only seen this man a few times in my life, but the white and red hat, the robes, the weathered face… The Hokage. The most powerful ninja in the village, and one of the five most powerful people in the world.

And he was just a meter or so away from me.

I mentally shook myself, closed my mouth, straightened up and found myself at parade rest, staring straight ahead and coincidentally at the memorial monument. This was crazy. I was wracking my head over what to say to the supreme leader-slash-general-slash-president when the man itself approached. He settled next to me, cane hitting the ground quietly.

“There’s no need to be afraid, I too, came to pay my respects.” He chuckled.

“That’s… easy to say. But…” like, he could ruin my life. Not to mention how powerful he just physically was. I bet he could break my spine with his pinky. I glanced at him, turning my head as little as possible. “Hm, should I leave you to your, hm, alone, sir?”

“There’s no need.”

“Because I’m finished, I can go home, now.”

He chuckled. “Please wait a little, Haruno-san. Indulge an old man in his reminiscing.” There was a moment of silence, as he pondered the names on the stone. “... I remember the day the Nine-Tails attacked Konoha. It came out of nowhere. Konoha was dealt a grave blow that night.”

“Hm, yeah.” The night I awoke, drenched in blood in a tiny baby body.

“We lost many ninjas and even more civilians. Minato… the Fourth Hokage, made the ultimate sacrifice. And my wife too…” The sigh that escaped his lips seemed to curve his entire body.

Was it hard? I was sorry? I hadn’t known the Third Hokage had also become a widower. “Oh.”

I wasn’t very good at words.

The Hokage shook his head. “It was… many years ago now. I have had time to mourn. And I wasn’t the only one to lose loved ones that day.” He looked at me. Paused like he was thinking about what to say next.

“I don’t remember the Harunos at all.” My heart beat once before I realized I was the one who had spoken up. “What I mean is… sorry. But I didn’t lose anybody, because you have to have something to be able to lose it.”

“Is that so?” I thought I could detect a hint of surprise in this face. “Mmm, but you could have had a normal life with your parents if the Nine-Tails hadn’t attacked. That is something you lost.”

The Hokage had a point. But still. “Maybe. Or maybe they wouldn’t be good parents, or maybe something else would kill them anyway. They were ninjas.” I shrugged. “It’s just pointless what ifs. I’m not going to dwell on that, that’s my opinion.”

“An uncommon opinion.” He closed his eyes as he smiled. “Very peculiar. Tell me, Haruno-san, what do you think of the Nine-Tailed Fox?”

“... I don’t know? I guess…” I rubbed my jaw as I thought. “I guess, I think it was scary. It almost destroyed Konha in a single night.” That sort of power was, frankly, unimaginable. Even in a world where people could break rock with their bare hands, jump several meters in the air and breathe fire.

“Do you hate it?”

Hate?

“No.”

“Most people who fear something also hate it.” The Hokage said wisely.

I couldn’t see myself hating a mysterious monster. Fear, always, but hatred? Hatred was human. The Nine-Tailed Fox had killed the Harunos, perhaps even all three of them, but the death I remembered hadn’t come from the jaws of a monster. It had been the rumbling of the earth, the confusion before a quick crunch.

“It’s pointless. To hate a monster like that. It’d be like hating storms, or floods. Earthquakes.” There was a quote I’d never managed to forget. I didn’t know where it was from, who’d said it. I looked at the Hokage and shrugged my shoulders. “The dead are gone, the living are hungry.”

---

I envisioned this scene fairly early, and for somebody who's not planning ahead, that means something. Yes, the Hokage was sorta interviewing a future candidate for Naruto's team, because of the Kyuubi factor.​

Should I apologize for the 100 quote? Because that turn of phrase will probably never leave my head, unlikely everything else about it.​