Oops I didn’t realize there were people out there that shipped Aizen and Hisana 😅
Imagine tho had Christina been reincarnated into Momo instead. I imagine it going something like this:
C!Momo: okay so he’s looking for someone submissive that he can easily manipulate, someone who won’t question any of his actions right? That someone is clearly not me. He’s told me I suck at following orders. To my face. So I should be good right? No need to worry about catching his attention.
Momo, after getting promoted to 5th division lieutenant, like, barely 5 years after joining: ….
Momo: oh COME ON
(goddammit she knew she shouldn’t have applied to the 5th in the first place but she’d thought it might be a bit suspicious if she didn’t because she’d had a few encounters with Aizen in the Academy and they were, nominally, on friendly terms. Then the bastard had to go and offer her a seated officer position immediately off the bat, so it would’ve looked super suspicious if she didn’t accept. THEN he’d had to go and promote her to third seat and she’d done her level best to keep Ichimaru from traumatizing every single person under their command. And just as she FINALLY started working towards a transfer, Ichimaru fucking leaves and she’s stuck with his spot.)
“You know I find Momo-chan an absolute delight,” Gin began. Sousuke had to suppress a snort. The reverse certainly couldn’t be said. “But are ya sure it’s wise to choose her as your lieutenant? She’s hardly the ideal person to have close to our plans.”
Sousuke set down his cup of tea.
“Are you saying I can’t handle her, Gin?” He asked with a smile.
“I’m sayin’ you’re having a bit too much fun handlin’ her,” Gin shot back. This was why he enjoyed having him around. It was…refreshing having that kind of honesty around. For a given definition of the word, anyway.
“I find her amusing,” Sousuke conceded. “I can’t quite figure her out.”
Gin shot him a disbelieving look.
“Momo-chan? She’s not exactly the type ta hide who she is.”
“And yet,” Sousuke murmured. Curious, how a girl who seemed to be the definition of an open book, was so adept at picking up on his deceptions. And so good at getting away with her own.
if lily was reincarnated into the naruto world, how would that turn out?
Got another ask that was like, "what if both Hisana and Sayuri reincarnated in the Narutoverse" so I'm just gonna combine the two into "what if both Christina and Lily reincarnated into the Narutoverse."
I've always thought Lily/Sayuri shared quite a few similarities with Itachi, so...here you go. An AU in which Lily gets reincarnated as Itachi and Christina gets reincarnated as Sasuke.
The thing about canon!Itachi is that he was split between his duty to his village, his duty to his clan, and his love for his brother. He ended up deciding his clan was an inevitable sacrifice if he wanted to save his village and his brother, and well-- we all know how well that turned out.
Lily!Itachi, on the other hand, does not give a single flying fuck about Konoha, the Uchiha clan, or really anything except for the only person who's made her feel less alone since arriving in this godforsaken world. There's no dilemma, no conflict there, because Sasuke is the only thing that matters. So what happens is that she decides, you know what, I'm just gonna fake my and Sasuke's deaths and get the fuck out of this hellhole before shit really hits the fan. Konoha, Danzo, the Uchiha? They can eat each other alive for all she cares.
"Lily," Christina said, a little helplessly. "Lily, maybe we should talk about this."
She spoke in English, the way she always did when they were alone. One of the most widely spoken languages in their previous life reduced to a secret code between them alone.
Lily hummed, giving her a small smile.
"What's there to talk about?" She asked.
"I mean." Christina paused delicately. "We did just fake our deaths and defect from the village. That's a pretty major event."
She looked at Lily.
"You bought us a little time, but sooner or later, they're going to realize that we didn't actually die. You realize that, right?"
"What are you saying?" Lily asked.
"What I'm saying is that maybe we should make ourselves a little less recognizable." She smiled, eyes bright. "They're going to be looking for two brothers. Not two sisters."
Lily's breath caught.
"Are you really able to--?"
"There's not much I'm not able to do, with chakra," Christina laughed. "Granted, it'll take a bit of time, but to start...how do you feel about the names Isane and Shion?"
~~
Honestly their 'fake our own deaths and transform ourselves so completely no one will ever be able to recognize us and then proceed to lay low/live a quiet peaceful life away from any ninja bullshit' plan would've worked, had it not been for the fact that Christina/Sasuke/Shion was completely unable to stay away from any bullshit happening at any given time.
"Please tell me how in our attempt to become boring, unremarkable civilian figures unworthy of any shinobi attention, we ended up becoming vigilante heroes roaming the countryside dispensing justice everywhere we go instead," Isane said dryly.
"Oh, come on," Shion huffed. "You can't tell me that you didn't enjoy bashing that Gatou asshole's head in."
"That's not the point, the point is--"
"The point is that for the first time since entering this life, I'm seeing you smile and have fun," Shion interrupted. "And if that means attracting a bit of attention? Well, I'm willing to take that risk."
(It's interesting thinking about what their interactions would be like, I don't write them together that often. Comments welcome!)
Ohhh, a fic give-away!!! If you have time, I would love to see more of Hisana&Muramasa interactions! I'm not sure if that counts as an au, I just want them content and healing and helping each other with the power of FRIENSHIP
"Muramasa," Hisana said slowly, feeling a headache coming on. "When you told me you might be able to convince Kyoka Suigetsu to leave Aizen, this really wasn't what I thought you meant."
"I fail to see the issue," Muramasa stated serenely. "Kyoka Suigetsu is no longer Aizen Sousuke's zanpakuto spirit. By all accounts, I have accomplished my mission."
"Yes, well--!" Hisana helplessly gestured towards the masked spirit next to him. "I didn't think you'd bring him here instead!"
"He needed a place to go," Muramasa shrugged, before his gaze softened a fraction. "And your soul is big enough for the both of us, I think."
"I--" Hisana felt rather like banging her head against a tree. "Muramasa, I really don't know about this."
"If you have concerns about him betraying you, rest assured that I would never allow--"
"No, no, that's not it. This is simply...a lot to take in," Hisana muttered, waving him off. She needed to think about this. She needed to consider all the implications and potential consequences and--
Her gaze flickered to the silent figure standing next to Muramasa.
"How do you feel about this?" She asked. Kyoka Suigetsu stiffened.
"How do I feel?" he repeated.
"Well, yeah. I mean, are you even going to be happy here?" She asked, worrying her bottom lip. "I'm nothing like Aizen and I never will be. I'll never have as much spiritual energy as him, I don't enjoy fooling people or playing mind games, and...and I can't promise that I'd be able to utilize your ability to the level he did."
"That's what bothers you?" Kyoka Suigetsu's voice was unreadable. "Not the fact that I was Aizen Sousuke's zanpakuto spirit, but the prospect that I might be unhappy in this arrangement?"
"I don't particularly like making people miserable, you know," Hisana said wryly.
Kyoka Suigetsu stared at her for a moment.
"Let me ask you one question, Yukimura Hisana," he said finally. "What do you plan to do once you defeat my former wielder?"
Hisana blinked.
"Work on reforming the spiritual world, of course," she answered without hesitation. "My goals haven't changed just because I was out of commission for the past century or so."
"I could help you rule it." Kyoka Suigetsu's voice was unchanging. "No one would be able to stand in your way."
The corner of Hisana's mouth quirked up.
"You know, your ability really is incredible," she said. "You can turn dreams into reality, remake the world as you see fit. And more importantly, you can share that vision with others. The thing is, I don't care about ruling the world, I care about changing it. I don't want you to help me destroy my enemies, I want you to help me convince them. But only if that's something you want as well."
She gazed at him, eyes painfully sincere.
"You're not my prisoner, Kyoka Suigetsu, and I don't want you to feel like you have to stay just because Muramasa brought you here. If you feel like this isn't going to work out-- well, I know it's difficult for a zanpakuto spirit to survive without a wielder, but you can stay in my soul for as long as you need while we figure something else out."
"You talk quite a bit, don't you?" Kyoka Suigetsu murmured, after a slight pause. Hisana shrugged.
"How am I supposed to know what you want if I don't talk to you?" She asked with a smile. "Take some time to think it over. There's no rush."
Muramasa waited until she faded out of her inner world before sauntering over to Kyoka Suigetsu.
The other zanpakuto spirit turned to look at him bemusedly. ".…she hasn't realized?"
"Give her some time," Muramasa said, amused. "She'll get it eventually. She can be extremely insightful in some aspects-- others, not so much."
"She can hear my voice," Kyoka Suigetsu said, voice low. Something his former wielder hadn't been able to do for weeks now. "Surely she realizes the significance of that?"
Muramasa shrugged.
"Who knows?" An odd smile formed on his lips. "She's a strange little thing, our wielder. Despite my best efforts, she persists in the absurd belief that zanpakuto spirits are people. The idea of not hearing you? Why, it probably never even occurred to her."
(I've always felt that Muramasa and Kyoka Suigetsu were similar in a lot of ways-- both very morally ambiguous, both with extremely scary abilities, both cast aside by their wielders in favor of power and ambition. Which makes it fun to throw Hisana into the mix :))
From a very young age, Obito's grandmother had cautioned him to guard his heart.
"There is nothing more dangerous than an Uchiha in love," she warned him. "If you're not careful, caring too deeply will destroy you, drive you to madness."
For a five-year-old Obito, all it took to fall in love were three words, coming from a girl with sparkling brown eyes and the brightest smile he'd ever seen.
"Hey, nice goggles!"
~~
Obito, as a general rule, tried to avoid thinking too much about Hatake Kakashi. As far as he was concerned, stupid Bakashi already had too many people thinking about him. It felt like Obito couldn't go five minutes without hearing the whispers of "prodigy" and "genius" and "future-Hokage" trailing Kakashi everywhere he went (and what really stung was that they probably weren't wrong-- what Obito worked at for hours upon hours to accomplish, Kakashi managed in minutes without breaking a sweat).
Obito thought he'd been doing a pretty good job of ignoring Kakashi all things considered, despite the other boy's annoying attitude and annoying hair and annoying voice and annoying mask and annoying everything. He didn't even care (much) about Kakashi's annoyingly large number of fangirls-- up until he noticed that Rin had also started watching him.
He lasted three days before he confronted her about it.
"Why're you watching Kakashi?" Obito blurted out. He'd considered straight up asking her if she had a crush on him-- like half the girls in their class, he thought bitterly-- but had chickened out at the last moment. He wasn't sure what he'd do if the answer was yes--probably something that would land him in detention again.
"He's walking home alone again," Rin said quietly, gaze still fixated on Kakashi's departing figure. "It's been weeks now."
"So?" Obito asked. "He walks home by himself all the time."
Rin shook her head.
"Only when his father's on a mission. Which he might be, I don't know, but given what happened--" Her voice trailed off. Obito didn't need her to complete the sentence, anyway. Everyone in the village knew what had happened on Hatake Sakumo's disastrous mission.
"We're going to follow him," Rin decided. That got Obito's attention.
"What? Why?" He wasn't whining. He wasn't.
"Because something's not right here. And until we figure out what it is, I'd feel better watching over him to make sure he's safe." She glanced at him and grinned. "Besides, this will allow you to practice your stealth skills. And my Henge skills. Think I can make a convincing bush?"
~~
Through some miracle, because Rin did not make a convincing bush-- bushes didn't move for one thing, nor did they have legs-- they managed to follow Kakashi back to the Hatake Compound undetected. The moment the compound came into sight, Rin jolted, her henge dropping away completely.
"Oh," she whispered, eyes widening. Obito swallowed, feeling rather sick to the stomach himself.
The wall of the compound was completely covered by graffiti. Obito clenched his fists, mouth going dry-- there were words on there that would make Obito's grandmother scrub his mouth with soap if he even thought of saying them but worse than that were the words scattered between the cursing and insults:
Failure
Disgrace
Weak
Monster
Shameful
Your fault
Your fault
Your fault
"Obito." Rin's voice was strangely calm.
"Y-Yeah?" Obito cleared his throat, tearing his gaze away from the Hatake Compound. Kakashi didn't deserve that, he found himself thinking. His dad didn't deserve it either. No one deserved that.
Rin glanced at him, eyes hard.
"Do you think your grandmother would be okay with you sleeping over at my house tonight?"
Obito blinked, then slowly began to smile.
"I think I can convince her."
"Great." Rin folded her arms across her chest. "How are your painting skills?"
~~
Of all the things Sakumo expected to find outside his house in the middle of the night, two kids wearing badly-made face masks painting his wall was not one of them.
"What are you guys doing?" Kakashi demanded, looking like he wasn't sure whether to be angry or confused.
"What does it look like we're doing, Bakashi?" The kid in the orange eye-mask retorted. "Everyone calls you a genius, figure it out."
This night was getting weirder and weirder, Sakumo thought bemusedly to himself.
"You're...vandalizing my house. At two in the morning," Kakashi replied. It looked like the confusion was winning out over the anger.
"It's not vandalism if it's done with good intentions," the girl in the purple eye mask said primly. Sakumo resisted the urge to rub at his eyes.
"Friends of yours, Kakashi?" Sakumo asked, and received an immediate flurry of responses.
"No, I hardly even know them, they're just some kids from my class--"
"Friends with Bakashi? No way, I--"
"Not yet at least."
Sakumo let them talk over each other, gaze drifting back over to the half-completed paint job. They'd...done a surprisingly good job, actually. He could barely see the words underneath anymore.
He held up a hand, causing all three kids to go quiet.
"Why?" He asked finally, addressing the two kids who apparently weren't friends with Kakashi and yet had gone to the trouble to do all...this.
"Why not?" the boy said defiantly, jutting his chin up. "We felt like it and your wall is messed up, so we're painting it to look better."
The girl remained silent for a beat longer, before turning to look him in the eye.
"Because you deserve better," she said. Sakumo's mouth twisted.
"I'm not sure I do," he murmured, almost inaudibly. He blinked as the girl suddenly narrowed her eyes, brandishing her paintbrush at him like a kunai.
"Don't say that," she hissed, glaring fiercely at him "Don't you dare say that! The first thing they teach us in the Academy is that your teammates always, always come first. You acted according to that and the fact that people are treating you like a monster for it is wrong."
"It's not that simple--"
"It's not your fault that Konoha is on the brink of war,” she interrupted sharply. "If you didn't trigger it, someone else would have. You don't teach five year olds wartime tactics if you're not expecting...if you're not preparing for a war. People don't want to admit that, so they look for someone to blame-- but that's their problem, not yours."
She turned around, re-coating her brush with paint.
"I can't make you believe me, Hatake-san. But what I can do is cover up this wall of yours. At the very least, Kakashi-kun doesn't deserve to look at this every day."
At that, Kakashi straightened up, scowling at her. If his glare seemed rather halfhearted, no one pointed it out.
"I don't need you to do it, I can do it myself," he grumbled.
"Great," the girl said without missing a beat. "While you're here, you can settle a debate between me and Obito-- hypothetically speaking, would you prefer snakes painted on the wall or dragons?"
"C'mon Rin, dragons are so much cooler, what kind of person would prefer snakes--"
"Obito, neither of us can even draw a dragon and besides, they summon snakes--"
"What? No we don't! We summon dogs!"
"Oh. Really? But your dad is called the White Fang. That wasn't a reference to snake fangs?"
"No!"
"Huh. Who summons snakes then? Someone summons snakes."
"Forget the snakes, is there a dragon contract I can sign?"
"They'd take one look at you and eat you, dead last."
"Shut up, Bakashi!"
Sakumo felt his lips twitch. He turned around to walk back inside, feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
And to think, he'd been worried about Kakashi making friends.
I'd like to see more of Wen Qing's reaction to Hisana's actual personality rather than her reputation as her ancestor who revolutionised healing in the wen!au.
So aside from how...uncool Hisana turned out, the other thing that surprised Wen Qing was just how okay with murder her supposedly benevolent, saintlike ancestor ended up being.
(For the purposes of this AU, Hisana's name is Wen Ling)
"It was an accident!" Wen Ling protested, not actually sounding that sorry. She paused. "Well. Sort of. I mean, I was planning taking him out eventually, but this was just supposed to be a trial run, you know? To see what his security was like. I didn't expect to actually succeed." She glanced at the three bodies in the room. "Or to take out his sons in the process. Who knew it'd be so easy to assassinate the most powerful Clan Leader in the world?"
"They're really dead," Wen Ning murmured. He appeared to be in shock, clutching Wen Ling to his chest like one of the stuffed animals he'd had as a child. "And we are too. Oh, we're so, so dead."
"This does put us in a pickle," Wen Ling agreed, still sounding infuriatingly nonchalant about their situation.
"You think?" Wen Qing snapped, fingers twitching from the urge to strangle her. "The entire Main Family is dead!"
"Well, no use in moping over it, what's done is done," Wen Ling mused. "First things first. I can make it look like they died from natural causes, and after that...well, we need to fake a will naming Wen Ruohan's third-in-line heir."
Wen Qing, who had by this time grown somewhat accustomed to her ancestor's way of thinking, immediately responded, "Not it."
They both turned to look at Wen Ning.
"What?" He asked meekly.
"Well, I guess he is directly related to the Main Line," Wen Ling said after a thoughtful silence. "Not ideal, but I guess we can pass it off as Wen Ruohan not expecting both of his sons to be taken out of commission and as a result, not putting too much thought into who would inherit the throne after them."
Wen Ning stared at them for a moment, before realization finally dawned.
"M-Me?!" He squeaked, pointing at his chest. "B-But I'm not-- I mean, no one will ever-- Jie-Jie's the scary one, it should be her!"
Wen Qing resisted the urge to smack him.
"Don't worry about it, you'll be fine," Wen Ling said reassuringly. "I mean, just look at my husband. He had all the menace of a rabbit, but people were still scared of him. God knows why, the man couldn't bring himself to kill a spider."
And just like that, Wen Qing felt another piece of her carefully crafted perception of Wen Clan history wither up and die.
"And besides, you'll have me and your sister by your side," Wen Ling said grinning. "Congratulations, Ning-Ning! You've just been crowned ruler of the Wen Clan."
(Wen Ling would have taken the damn crown herself, but figured it'd be kind of hard to do given she hasn't even hit puberty in this body yet.
Wen Qing would have put up more of a protest over her little brother's sudden appointment to Wen Clan leader, but she does trust Wen Ling to take care of him. And after what just happened, it's pretty difficult to doubt her capability.)
so what happened with nana and shamal? are they a less intense version of gin and hisana? 🤔
The first time Shamal sets eyes on Nana Fujiwara, he is convinced he’s seen an angel. He takes in the warmth of her eyes, the silkiness of her hair, the way she smells like white tea and jasmine, and he leaps at her with welcoming arms, ready to embrace her and press himself against those soft, inviting curves.
He’s promptly enveloped in an enormous cloud of pepper spray. That basically sets the tone for the next two years of their relationship.
In general, Nana likes to think of herself as someone who gets along pretty well with people. She knows she has a bit of a temper, but she tries her best to keep it under control and to remain patient, calm, and understanding.
That all goes out the window when it comes to Trident Shamal.
There are a lot of things about Shamal that she hates. She hates the way he leers at and chases after every girl he finds attractive. She hates his stupid, perverted grin and she hates the stupid, dopey look he gets on his face every time she sees him, and she hates his stupid, fucking ridiculous rule about ‘not treating men.’
Most of all though, she hates how he gets away with it. How every single member of the administration simply laughs it off, telling her it’s “just some harmless flirting, don’t worry about it.” One professor tells her she should be flattered and she almost commits homicide right then and there.
Then to top everything off, she can’t even avoid him because as the top two members of their class, they always end up getting paired together for projects, which was...just typical.
Honestly, Nana thinks the fact that she hasn’t killed him yet is an enormous testament to her self control. She could probably put that on her resume under ‘special skills’-- has refrained from murdering classmate (was there a word for that? Classmate-cide? Peer-tricide?) despite being given literally hundreds of reasons to do so.
Not to say she hasn’t imagined doing so. Vividly. She ended up doodling so many scenarios that she had to get a second notebook.
~~
Any other day, and Shamal would have been thrilled to have Nana Fujiwara, the loveliest, prettiest, most adorable girl in his class, knocking on his door. Any other day and he would’ve been more than happy to wax poetic about her beautiful smile, her fiery personality, her large, doe-like eyes, the soft curve to those plump, inviting lips, the-- well, the list goes on.
Right now however, he hadn’t showered in three (or was it four?) days, he was drenched in his own sweat, he was running a fever of 39.5 C, his head was throbbing painfully, everything hurt, and to top everything off, the room smelled strongly of vomit.
“Shamal, I know you’re in there! Open up!” Shamal groaned miserably, covering his eyes with one arm as the pounding at the door caused his headache to go from ‘someone trying to drive an iron spike through my head’ to ‘iron spike is now on fire and accompanied by a hundred tiny hammers, please kill me now.’
“Goddammit Shamal, you were supposed to send me the draft of your half of the project three days ago! Open the door!” Nana continued to shout through the door. “I swear to god, if you don’t open up, I will kick your door down, don’t think I won’t--oh.”
Nana blinked, irritated scowl melting away at the sight of his appearance. She frowned, a touch of concern creeping into her expression.
“Are you...okay?” She asked hesitantly. It was the first time he’d heard Nana Fujiwara sound hesitant and Shamal hated it.
Summoning up whatever last reserves of strength he had left, Shamal put on his best flirtatious grin, eyes curving up into crescents.
“Aww, you don’t have to be worried about me, beautiful!” He cooed, then clenched his teeth as he felt his stomach swoop nauseatingly. “I’ll be fine, just had a lil’ too much to drink last night.” He leaned casually against the doorframe, which had the added benefit of keeping him mostly upright. “I just need to sleep it off and then--”
“Yeah no, you’re clearly not okay. Stupid question,” Nana murmured, clearly ignoring everything he’d just said. She stepped closer, placing a hand against his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No!” He shouted. Nana flinched, startled, and Shamal cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to do that.
“No,” he repeated, calmer this time. “No hospitals. I’ll be fine.”
“Shamal--” Nana began.
“They won’t be able to do anything,” he interrupted. “I’ve been through this before, I know how it goes. I just need to wait it out.” He swallowed. “Going to a hospital won’t help. Please, Nana, I--”
He suddenly doubled over, retching violently the rest of his words disappearing under a river of vomit. Shamal had just enough time to see Nana’s eyes widen before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
~~
Shamal woke up to gentle hands dabbing at his face with a cool washcloth, the pleasant scent of white tea and jasmine, a familiar voice murmuring soft reassurances in his ear.
“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s just me,” the voice whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Nana?” Shamal asked, fighting to stay awake. “You stayed.”
There was a pause.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “Yeah. I stayed.”
~~
Honestly, Nana had no idea what possessed her to actually listen to her obviously sick, half-delirious, idiot classmate instead of doing the reasonable thing, which would’ve been to dump him at the nearest hospital.
Maybe it was the fact that he’d actually called her by her name for once, instead of some stupid pet name. Maybe it was the fact that she knew firsthand how miserable hospitals could be and could sympathize with his desire to avoid them at all cost. Or maybe it was the fact that she recognized the tone of voice he’d used when he’d told her that there was nothing the doctors could do to help him-- the kind of resigned certainty that could only come from experience, of having your hopes dashed over and over. It was a tone of voice she was well acquainted with.
(“I’m sorry Christina, there’s nothing more we can do.”)
It could have been any one of those reasons, or all three of them. She tried not to think too much about it.
It took another two days before Shamal’s fever started coming down and three before he started sounding halfway coherent again. On the fourth, she found him sitting in bed with his breakfast untouched on the nightstand next to him.
“Is something wrong?” Nana asked, frowning. “Are you feeling nauseous again?” When he shook his head, she continued, “I can make something else if you don’t like--”
“Why?” Shamal interrupted.
“Why what?” Nana asked, puzzled. “Why did I make eggs? I was looking up things that are good to eat when you’re sick and I came across a recipe for Chinese steamed eggs. I wish I knew about this before, I mean like it provides protein but it’s soft like a custard so you don’t have to chew much and--”
“No, why-- why do all this? Why go to this much trouble for me?” Shamal demanded, gesturing wildly with his hands. “The cooking, and the-- the washing, and you even cleaned up my apartment, and I don’t-- I don’t understand why--”
“Well, what was I supposed to do, just leave your unconscious body lying there on Death’s front doorstep?” Nana asked uncomprehendingly.
“I threw up on you!” Shamal snapped, sounding mortified.
“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to throw up on me, and you won’t be the last,” she responded dryly. “I’d be in the wrong line of work if I let a little vomit get to me.”
When he still refused to meet her eyes, she sighed.
“Look Shamal, I may not like you-- actually, I can’t stand you-- but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer like this. You don’t deserve that, no one deserves that.”
No one deserved to feel like their body was failing them. Nana swallowed, forcing her voice to remain steady.
“I was in a position to help, and so I did,” she said quietly. “It’s as simple as that.”
“...as simple as that,” Shamal echoed. “You truly mean that, don’t you? No favors, no debts, just--” He laughed, a little disbelievingly. “You’d go above and beyond the call of duty even for those you hate, just because it was the right thing to do.” He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “You really are something else, Nana Fujiwara.”
Nana glanced away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was just acting weird due to the lingering fever, or-- or dizziness from missing breakfast, but something about the way he was looking at her in that moment--
“I should take your temperature again, it’s been over eight hours since I last checked it,” she said abruptly. “I think I left the thermometer in the other room, wait here.” She marched off and tried to ignore how it felt like running away. “Eat your eggs.”
Anyway yeah the idea of Hisana-in-KHR wasn’t leaving me alone so here you go:
The story starts with Nana, formerly Christina, deciding that she really didn’t get to see enough of the world in her past life. She still wants to be a doctor though, so she decides why not combine those two goals-- basically she puts the names of a bunch of countries into a hat and picks one at random, which brings her to Italy.
And hey, she’s cool with that. Italian food’s awesome and she’s always wanted to learn the language. She gets a job at a nearby cafe and eventually gets really good at making espressos. Life is good.
(She does discover that Italian medical schools are...weirdly intense. Or at least the one she’s attending is. Granted, it’s been a while since she’s been a medical student but she definitely doesn’t remember learning how to treat serious burn injuries and gunshot wounds in her first year. She’s not complaining though, she’d much rather learn from real life experience than from a book.
This is also where she ends up coming across the most annoying guy she’s ever met in either lifetime. Dude hit on more women in a day than she made espressos in a week. Even more irritatingly, Annoying Guy is something of a genius, which really just makes her even more determined to beat him.
He also has the dumbest name she’s ever heard-- seriously, what kind of name is Trident, anyway?)
The first time she meets Iemitsu goes something like this: as she’s taking the trash out behind her apartment, she witnesses a blond man run past her and dive straight into the dumpster. Less than a minute later, three men holding guns run up to her, demanding to know where blond man went. She points them in the wrong direction even as she helps conceal blond man further by very considerately throwing her garbage on top of him. She then brushes her hands off and heads back into her apartment without a second glance back. Blond man shows up at her work the next day with a box of her favorite cake, earnestly thanking her for her assistance in a way that feels sweet but also more than a little stalkerish. Blond guy discovers the cafe serves really good tiramisu in the process. Blond guy keeps coming back for said tiramisu (and the company, but he’s claiming it’s the tiramisu). Somewhere down the line, blond guy becomes Iemitsu and eventually, something approaching a friend.
The smell of fresh espresso caused Iemitsu to look up.
“Bad day?” A familiar voice asked.
“That obvious, huh?” He replied, taking the offered espresso gratefully.
“The fact that you’re currently on your third tiramisu clued me in, yes,” Nana said dryly. “What’s wrong?”
“My family wants to meet my girlfriend,” Iemitsu said gloomily.
“...and?” Nana asked after a pause, when it became clear he wasn’t going to elaborate. Sure, she understood that the initial taking-girlfriend-to-meet-family meeting could be a bit awkward and nerve-wracking, but it wasn’t three tiramisus level of nerve-wracking.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Ah.” Nana paused, then very carefully kept her voice neutral. “That...is a problem, yes.”
“I got so tired of them hounding me to ‘pick a nice girl and settle down’ that I just made one up,” Iemitsu wailed, covering his face with his hands. “And now they want to meet her and obviously I can’t introduce them to an imaginary girlfriend and--”
“Can’t you just tell them you broke up?” Nana pointed out reasonably. “People break up all the time, it happens. And if you pretend to be heartbroken about it, you can probably buy yourself some time before your family starts pushing you to date again.”
“....right, there’s just one problem with that. I kind of got carried away with the whole thing and, well, when I said ‘fictional girlfriend’, I really meant ‘fictional wife’.” Iemitsu sighed dreamily. “We fell madly in love six months ago and eloped last month. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, you know? Very romantic. She’s the love of my life, the sweetest, kindest civilian girl, and she laughs at all my jokes, and she thinks of me as her hero, and--”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nana interrupted. “On a completely unrelated note, have you ever considered therapy? I’m saying this as a friend, Iemitsu. A very concerned friend.”
“That’s right, we are friends, aren’t we?” Iemitsu asked, suddenly perking up. He reached out to grasp her hands, looking at her with shining, hopeful eyes. “And friends help each other out.”
“...did I say we were friends? I take it back,” Nana muttered, looking at him warily. He ignored her.
“If you pretended to be my wife, it would solve all my issues! Or at least, buy me time to figure things out. And I can arrange all the paperwork and stuff, hell I can make up an entire separate identity for you, I just need you to play along for one night to prove that I actually have a wife and I wasn’t just making things up.”
“Which you were.”
“No one has to know that,” Iemitsu waved her off. “Please Nana, you’re the only civilian girl I know, it has to be you! And like I said, it’s just for one night. After this, I can tell everyone I don’t want you involved in Family business, and you’ll never have to do it again.”
“You can’t just hire an actress or something?” She asked.
“No, I already tried that. Twice. They scared too easily, didn’t even make it to the mansion,” Iemitsu dismissed casually, like that was normal.
Nana swallowed. She wasn’t stupid, she knew Iemitsu was involved in some shady shit, even if she didn’t know the exact nature of his work.
“If you pretended to be my wife, I would have an excuse to pay off your student loans,” Iemitsu added.
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it, she couldn’t believe she was even considering this.
“...fine,” she said grudgingly. “One night. And I get to help in making up my own fake identity.” She was definitely going with the fake identity option. There was no way in hell she was having her actual name tied to Iemitsu’s.
~Many years later~
“You are Sawada Tsunayoshi, yes?” Reborn asked through gritted teeth after finally tracking down his target, three wild goose chases later and in a completely separate country than the one he should’ve been in, according to the report he was given.
Tsuna blinked.
“Yes?” He asked hesitantly.
“Son of Sawada Iemitsu and Sawada Noriko?” He confirmed.
“Uh, no,” Tsunayoshi said, looking at him oddly. “My mom’s name is Nana. And her last name isn’t Sawada, it’s Fujiwara.”
He pointed across the farmer’s market at a petite brunette woman who was currently engaging in a tug-of-war with a man nearly twice her size, over what appeared to be the last daikon radish.
Reborn looked at her for a long moment. Then he looked back down at the file he was given on Iemitsu’s wife.
Sawada Noriko
Age: 36
Hair color: Neon pink
Eye color: Black
- nearsighted, wears purple glasses
Country: United States
Occupation: Aspiring actress
Description:
- kindhearted but naive, mild-mannered, avoids confrontation
- has no knowledge of Vongola or the mafia
- The delicate flower of my heart, the love of my life, the sweet nectar that quenches my thirst-- Sawada Iemitsu
Reborn considered the information that was in front of him for a long moment. Then, slowly, deliberately, he ripped the report in half.
“I,” he stated calmly, “am going to kill Iemitsu.”
(So like I said, I couldn’t really imagine Hisana/Christina/Nana getting together with Iemitsu for real. A fake marriage AU, on the other hand….)
i dont know if i already sent a prompt if so sorry bc memory is in shambles, anyway, i'd like to see 4th division assumes preggers!hisana is dying au of wtl/sidewalks
hisana&byakuya with their newborn/toddler just. fluff, crack, new parents shenaningans, soft, pls? byakuya changing a messy poopy diaper for the first time?
(Merry Christmas to everyone that celebrates it, and please enjoy this holiday snippet!)
"You do realize that for every cat plushie you throw out, Yoruichi will replace it with two more," Hisana said, mouth twitching.
"Then I'll just keep throwing them out. She'll have to give up eventually," Byakuya replied, shoving two more stuffed black cats into an already bulging garbage bag with slightly more vigor than necessary.
"When have you ever known Yoruichi to give up?" Hisana asked rhetorically. "I'm sorry dear, but this is one battle I don't think you can win. Our daughter may be doomed to be a cat person."
"Please don't say that," Byakuya said, sounding slightly pained. Laughing, Hisana strode up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Well on the bright side, we're saving tons of money on baby equipment," she mused, thinking of the cat-themed diapers, cat-shaped onesies, cat-patterned blankets, etc. etc. that Yoruichi had 'gifted.' "I wonder if she did the same thing when you were born."
"She tried, but I always preferred the Admiral Seaweed toys given to me by my father. Even as a child, I had superior taste," Byakuya stated haughtily. "But then, I've always been able to appreciate the finer things in life."
"Confident in that, aren't you?" Hisana asked, amused.
"Of course." He leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. "I chose you to be my wife, didn't I?"
